The director’s mouth dropped open, but snapped shut as his face clouded. “You have no right—”
“But I do. And you know it.”
The director’s eye twitched, and he clamped his teeth together. “She is nothing like Ellen. Ellen brought a much more feminine—”
“Ellen’s not here.” Eric glanced at Becca, who’d made a small whimpering sound. “Ellen was…wonderful. We all know that. But this role doesn’t have to be so…so womanly. It can actually use an…earthier feel.” He glanced at Casey, probably hoping she wouldn’t take that wrong. He put an arm around Becca’s shoulders. “Becca doesn’t want to do this. She’s said so. And here—” He swept a hand toward Casey. “She would be different, but come on, Thomas. How could you not see what she just did? She’s perfect.”
Casey cleared her throat. “Didn’t she—Ellen, I mean—last week…”
“Yes,” Eric said. “She died.”
Silence again covered the theater, and Casey looked from face to face. Eric’s sadness, Becca’s discomfort, the two young guys without a clear expression.
And the director’s stubbornly held jaw. “She’s not what we want.”
Eric glanced at the rest of the cast, then back at the director. “Says who?”
The director pushed himself from his seat, held a finger out toward Eric, then let it drop. Stiffly he gathered his belongings—briefcase, coat, umbrella—and put them over his arm. “Fine.” He looked at Casey, his chin held high. “Rehearsal tomorrow evening. Seven-o’clock. Don’t be late. And try to…” He waved a hand at her clothes. “Clean yourself up a little.”
Without another look he swept out the double doors, allowing them to slap shut behind him.
Chapter Six
“I’m sorry,” Eric said. “If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve warned you.”
“Yeah.” Casey shook her head. “I wish you could’ve.”
They sat on a bench outside the theater, the night air still promising rain.
“Thomas is a head case,” Eric said. “He really is.”
Thomas. The director. “And you’re in his play…why, exactly?”
A smile flitted across his face, and he ducked his head toward the street. “Let’s just say it’s penance, and leave it at that.”
“It better.”
They sat quietly, and Casey eased her head back, her face toward the sky. “What happened? With Ellen? The notice at the bus stop said she died suddenly.”
“Yeah. She did.”
Casey brought her head down at the pain in his voice. “You knew her well?”
He shrugged. “We were in the play together. She would…she and her kids came to eat supper at the hall.”
Casey studied his profile. “There was no husband in the picture?”
He looked away. “It was just her and the kids.”
“Were her children there tonight? At dinner?”
“No.” He leaned forward, his hands in prayer position between his knees. “They’ve gone to stay with their grandparents. Ellen’s folks. They don’t live in Clymer.”
Casey nodded, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she had to force herself not to jump at the sight of Death, who sat on the other side of Eric, picking fluffy buttered kernels of popcorn from a paper bag and chewing them with gusto.
“How did she die?” Casey asked.
Death shrugged, looking at Eric with interest.
Eric’s face remained averted. “They say she killed herself.”
Casey sucked in her breath.
Death made a face.
“Was she…did she have an illness?”
Eric gave a sad laugh. “Not unless you call unemployment being sick.”
“Oh. She got laid off from HomeMaker.”
“Right before Christmas. In the first wave.”
“And since then?”
He sat up again, still looking at his hands. “She was doing odd jobs, where she could find them. But there aren’t a lot here. No one else in Clymer is in the position to hire a cleaning lady or an extra hand at a store. The Burger Palace at the edge of town was about it. Not that she could support herself and her kids with that.”
Casey shook her head slowly. A sad story. A painful story.
Death stared at Casey with wide eyes, obviously wanting her to ask Eric more questions. But about what?
Eric’s face was pale, his lower lip sucked in, like he was trying not to cry.
Casey nodded. “You…cared about her.”
“What? Of course I did. I care about all—”
“But she was special.”
Eric closed his eyes. “I thought maybe…even with the kids…maybe partly because of the kids…we might…” He stopped. “She was such a strong person. I never would’ve thought she… But I guess all that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”
“Of course it does.” She looked at Death. “Just because someone dies doesn’t mean she isn’t still important to you.”
Death tossed a popcorn kernel in the air and deftly caught it and ate it.
Eric turned his face toward Casey. “You sound like you’ve had some experience.”
Casey grimaced. “Exactly what Thomas said.”
Eric gave a small laugh. “Please, don’t compare me to him.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you nauseated.”
He smiled, and glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s getting late. Want to go somewhere for something to eat? Or get a drink?”
The two full meals Casey had eaten had more than filled her up. As for the drink…
It had been just before her last birthday. The party with Reuben’s colleagues. They’d closed a huge deal and were celebrating. Reuben’s boss was happy, standing rounds for the whole crew. Casey had stuck pretty much to the champagne. Reuben to his usual Corona, with lime. Not too much. Nothing excessive.
She’d caught her husband’s eye across the room, where he was held captive by one of his team, a loud- talking IT expert, who believed the world would be a better place run entirely by computers. Reuben had tolerated the ideas because the kid knew his stuff. And because Reuben was just that kind of guy.
Reuben had given her that smile. The one that said he was just biding his time before they’d stayed long enough and he could take her home to their bed. She’d worn the red dress, the one he especially liked. She’d raised her glass to her lips, holding his gaze, and had blushed at the thought of what would happen later.
“Thanks,” she said now, to Eric. “But I really don’t…drink. And I’m not hungry.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, then, can I take you to your hotel? Or wherever you’re staying?”
She looked at Death. “I don’t actually have a place to stay.”
Eric sat up, blocking Death from her view. “Really? You want to stay at my place? I’ve got an extra room, with a futon. But if you don’t like futons you can have my bed and I can sleep on the futon.”
Casey looked at Eric’s face, alive again with helpfulness. “Thanks, Eric, but I think… Is there a hotel or
