“Then I wouldn’t have been born,” Casey muttered. “Or Tate would be my brother. Not good!”
She went back to her house and began making out a menu for the big lunch the next day. It was going to take a lot of work, and she needed to go to the grocery. When she got to the door, she saw Nina and Emmie coming toward her.
“How did the rehearsal go?” Nina asked.
Casey rolled her eyes. “I don’t know if my lack of concentration or Kit’s bad temper was worse. Whichever, today was a bad experience.” She held up her list. “I have to do lunch tomorrow, so I’m off to the grocery. Tell me what you need.”
“Fruit, sandwich makings, milk. The regular stuff.”
“I want to go with you,” Emmie said.
“To the grocery? That’s pretty boring,” Casey replied.
“You have enchanted her. Would you mind?” Nina asked.
“No, of course not,” Casey said honestly. “Ready?”
Emmie, wearing a very cute pink dress with a matching shrug, was already on the way to the car.
Shopping with a child was new to Casey. She was used to concentrating and giving her mind over to what she needed to buy. But Emmie wanted to learn, so Casey answered a lot of questions.
Emmie was intrigued when Casey said she did nearly all her shopping against the walls, not on the inside aisles.
“But my mom buys everything from the middle.”
Casey didn’t reply to that; she just talked about produce ripeness and cheeses and meats. When they finished shopping, the car was so full that she said it might be too heavy to drive.
“We should have brought Uncle Tate’s truck. Do you still like my uncle?”
“Very much.”
“Good,” Emmie said. “Mom is talking to him.”
“What does that mean?”
Emmie shrugged. “Mom says that sometimes Uncle Tate acts like the men in his movies.”
“I’ve never seen one, so I’m not sure what that means.”
“Me neither. Mom says I can only see them when I’m thirty-five and have three kids.”
They looked at each other and laughed.
“So, uh, what’s he been doing?” Casey wanted to sound like
she wasn’t deeply interested.
“Kicking things and fighting and reading scripts.”
“Fighting?” Casey sounded alarmed.
“With swords.”
“Oh, I see. Working out. Did you know the trainer is in the play?”
“Yeah. Uncle Tate said he’s perfect for the role.”
Casey tried to hide her laughter; the trainer was so good at playing the slimy Mr. Collins that when he’d asked her to marry him, Casey hadn’t had to act. She really had been repulsed.