Breathing Room (14 page)

He just turned three, but he still won't use the potty, will you, big guy?" She smacked the toddler's fat diaper, then patted her own swollen belly. "Connor was supposed to be our caboose. Surprise, surprise."

"Five kids, Trace?" Ren said.

"Stuff happens." Once again she bit her lip.

"Didn't you only have three when we talked a month ago?"

"It was two months ago, and I had four. You never pay attention when I talk about them."

Steffie, the eight-year-old, let out a piercing shriek. "Spider!There's a spider!"

"’Snot a spider."Brittanycrouched down in the gravel.

"Jeremy! Get out of that—"

ButTracy's command came too late. The Maserati, with her son inside, had already begun to roll.

Ren started to run. He made it to the bottom of the hill just in time to watch his expensive sports car crunch into the side of the farmhouse, where the front end folded like an origami bird.

Isabel had to give him credit. He dragged Jeremy out of the car and checked to make sure the eleven-year-old wasn't hurt before he inspected the damage.Tracy, in the meantime, was waddling down the hill – pregnant belly, toddler, and all. Isabel hurried to grab her arm before she fell, and they managed to reach Ren and Jeremy without mishap.

"Jeremy Briggs!How many times have I told you to leave other people's cars alone! You just wait till your father hears about this."Tracytook a couple of gulps of air, then seemed to run out of steam. Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Spider!"Steffie howled from the hill behind them.

The toddler noticed his mother's distress and started to cry.

"Spider! Spider!"Steffie yowled.

Ren looked over at Isabel, his expression comically helpless.

"Hey, Mr. Ren!"Brittanycalled down from the top of the hill. "Look at me!" She waved her panties like a flag. "I got seahorses, too."

Tracylet out a noisy sob, then reached out and whacked Ren in the chest. "Nowdo you see why we're moving in?"

*

"She can't do this!" Ren stopped pacing long enough to spin on Isabel as if this were all her fault. They were in the rear salon at the villa with the doors open to the garden and children running everywhere. Only Anna seemed happy. She laughed over the girls, rubbed Jeremy's head, picked up the toddler, and set off to the kitchen with him to prepare dinner for everyone.

"Go upstairs and tellTracyto leave!"

"Somehow I don't think she'll listen." Isabel wondered when he'd figure out that he was fighting a losing battle. The characters he played on-screen might be able to evict a pregnant woman and her four children, but in real life Ren seemed like a softer touch.

That didn't mean, however, that he intended to be gracious about it.

"We haven't been married for fourteen years. She can't just move in here with all these kids."

"She seems to have done it."

"You heard me try to book a hotel for her, but she grabbed the receiver out of my hand and hung up."

Isabel patted Steffie's shoulder. "That's enough bug spray, honey. Let me have the can before you give us all cancer."

Steffie reluctantly handed it over, then looked apprehensively around her feet for more spiders.

Ren growled down at the eight-year-old girl. "It's September. Shouldn't all of you be in school?"

"Mom's homeschooling us till we get back home toConnecticut."

"Your mother can barely add."

"She adds okay, but she has trouble with long division, so Jeremy and I have to help her."

Steffie walked over to the couch and gingerly lifted the pillow to look beneath it before she sat down. "Could I have my bug spray back, please?"

Isabel's heart turned over for the little girl. She stealthily passed the can to Ren, then sat beside her and drew her into a hug. "You know, Steffie, the things we think we're afraid of aren't always what's really bothering us. Like spiders. Most of them are pretty friendly insects, but a lot has happened in your family lately, and that might be what's really worrying you. We all feel afraid sometimes. It's okay."

Ren muttered something that was definitely not okay. As Isabel continued talking softly with Steffie, she spied Jeremy through the French doors grimly slamming a tennis ball against the side of the villa. It was only a matter of time before he broke a widow.

"Everybody, watch me!"Brittanyshot into the room and threw herself into a series of cartwheels, heading straight for a cabinet filled withMeissenporcelain.

"Watch out!" Ren rushed forward and caught her just before she crashed.

"Look on the bright side," Isabel said. "She's wearing her panties."

"But she's taken off everything else!"

"I'm the champ!" The five-year-old leaped to her feet and extended her arms in a victory V. Isabel smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. Just then the air was filled with the unmistakable sound of breaking glass, followed byTracy's shriek from upstairs:"Jeremy Briggs!"

Ren turned the can of bug spray to his head and pressed the valve.

*

It was a long evening. Ren threatened to cut off Isabel's electricity forever if she abandoned him, so she stayed at the villa whileTracyremained locked in her room.

Jeremy entertained himself by torturing Steffie with phantom spiders,Brittanyhid her clothes, and Ren complained the entire time. Everywhere he went, he left clutter behind him – sunglasses, discarded shoes, a sweatshirt – the debris of a man accustomed to having servants pick up after him.

With the appearance of the children, Anna underwent a personality transformation, laughing and plying everyone with food, even Isabel. She and Massimo lived in a house about a mile away with their two grown sons and a daughter-in-law. Since she'd be going home after dinner, she asked Marta to come up from the farmhouse to spend the night.

Marta, too, seemed like a different woman in the presence of the children.

Anna quickly adopted Connor as her special pet, and he stayed at her side except when he disappeared into a corner to load his diaper. The three-year-old, Isabel had learned, already had an excellent vocabulary. His favorite expression was "Potty is very, very bad."

Even though Ren gave the girls no encouragement, they badgered him for attention. He ignored them as much as he could but finally gave in to Jeremy's pleas to teach him some martial-arts moves. It was well after dark before they were all tucked into bed.

Isabel managed to slip away to the farmhouse while Ren was on the phone. She tumbled into bed and fell instantly asleep, only to be awakened at one in the morning by a crash followed by a curse. She bolted upright in bed.

The light snapped on in the hall, and Ren poked his head in. "Sorry. I banged my duffel against the chest and knocked over a lamp."

She blinked and pulled the sheet to her shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"You don't seriously believe I'm staying up there, do you?" He bristled with indignation.

"Well, you can't move in here."

"Watch me." He disappeared.

She shot out of bed, her silk gown fluttering behind her as she went after him.

He'd thrown his duffel on the bed in the next room, which was smaller than her own room but just as plain. The gregarious Italians didn't believe in wasting their decorating money on solitary spaces like bedrooms when they could spend it on the kitchens and gardens that were their gathering places. As she rushed in, he stopped unpacking long enough to take in the ivory lace bodice that clung to her breasts and the delicate, ankle-length skirt. "You got any dolphins under that?"

"None of your business. Ren, the villa's huge, and this house is small. You can't—"

"Not huge enough. If you think I'm staying under the same roof with a nutty pregnant woman and her four psycho kids, you're crazier than they are."

"Then go somewhere else."

"Exactly what I'm doing." Once again his eyes went on an exploratory mission. She waited for him to say something provocative, but he surprised her. "I appreciate the way you stuck around tonight, although I could have done without those lists you kept shoving at me."

"You threatened to turn off my electricity if I left."

"You can't fool me, Doc. You'd have stayed anyway, because you're a sucker for cleaning up other people's messes." He pulled out a messy stack of T-shirts. "That's probably why you like hanging around with me, except in my case you're fighting a losing battle."

"Idon't like hanging around with you. I'mforced to hang around with you. Okay, maybe I like it a little bit." Her fingers itched to pick up the T-shirt he'd just dropped to the floor, but she resisted. "You can sleep here tonight, but tomorrow you're moving back into the villa. I have work to do, and you'll only get in the way."

He propped a shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his ankles, his gaze traveling from her ankles to her breasts. "Too big a distraction for you, right?"

Her skin grew warm. He was the devil incarnate. This was the way he lured women to their deaths. "Let's just say I need to concentrate on the spiritual at the moment."

"You do that." He gave her his most sinister smile. "And don't even think about what happened to Jennifer Lopez when she slept in the room next to mine."

She shot him a look that told him exactly how infantile she thought he was, and swept past him. Just as she got to the hallway, she noticed the small lamp sitting on the chest directly in front of her. Even before she heard his evil chuckle, she knew he could see right through her nightgown.

"Definitely no dolphins. You're killing me, Fifi."

"A distinct possibility."

*

The next morning Isabel made a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice for herself and carried it out to one of the blue metal chairs that satin a sunny spot near the house. Dew still clung to the leaves of the olive trees, and a few stray ribbons of mist drifted in the valley below. She uttered a little prayer of gratitude – the least she could do – and began to take her first sip of juice just as Ren emerged from the house in all his rumpled glory.

"Had to get up early today so I could run before it gets too hot." He yawned.

"It's nearly nine."

"That's what I mean."

She set down the orange juice and watched the hem of his gray sleeveless T-shirt rise as he began to stretch. His stomach rippled with hard muscle, and a thin line of dark hair disappeared into a pair of black running shorts. She drank in every inch of him –

cheekbones, pirate's stubble, athlete's chest, and all.

He caught her watching him. As he crossed his arms over his chest, she could see that he was already enjoying himself. "Do you want me to turn around so you can get the back view?"

She retaliated with her shrink voice. "Do you think I want you to turn around?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Being so dazzling must be difficult. You never know whether people want to be with you because of your character or only because of your appearance."

"Definitely appearance. I have no character."

She couldn't let that pass. "You have a very strong character. Most of it is twisted, true, but not all of it."

"Thanks for nothing."

And wasn't it a miracle how a good night's sleep could increase a woman's capacity to annoy? She imitated his oily smile. "Would you mind turning to the side so I can enjoy your profile?"

"Stop being a wise-ass." He collapsed in the chair next to her, where he drained the glass of juice she'd taken ten minutes to squeeze.

She frowned. "I thought you were going for a run."

"Don't rush me. Tell me none ofTracy's little monsters have shown up here."

"Not yet."

"They're smart little buggers. They'll find us. And you're going up there with me after I get cleaned up, so you can be there while I have it out with her. I've decided to tell her you're recovering from a nervous breakdown, and you need peace and quiet. Then I'm loading everybody up in that Volvo she's driving, and sending them on their way to a great hotel, all expenses paid."

Somehow Isabel didn't think it would be that easy. "How did she find you?"

"She knows my agent."

"She's an interesting woman. How long did you say you were married?"

"One miserable year. Our mothers were friends, so we grew up together, got into trouble together, and also managed to flunk out of college at the same time. Since we didn't want to get kicked off the parental gravy train and actually have to work for a living, we decided to get married to divert their attention." He set down the empty glass. "Do you have any idea what happens when two spoiled brats get married?"

"Nothing pleasant, I'm sure."

"Door slamming, temper tantrums, hair pulling. And she was even worse."

Isabel laughed.

"She got remarried two years after our divorce. I've seen her a couple of times when she's come out toL.A., and we talk every few months."

"An unusual relationship for a divorced couple."

"For a few years afterward we didn't talk at all, but neither of us has any brothers or sisters. Her father died, and her mother's a nutcase. I guess nostalgia for our dysfunctional childhoods keeps us in contact more than anything else."

"You'd never seen her children or her husband?"

"I saw the two older ones when they were little. Never met her husband. One of those corporate types. He sounds like a real stiff." He moved his weight to one hip, withdrew a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his shorts, and flipped it open. "I found this in the kitchen. You want to explain?"

She must possess a subconscious desire to be tortured, or she'd never have left that lying around. "Give it to me."

Naturally he held it just out of her reach. "You need me even worse than I thought." He began to read from the schedule she'd drawn up her first day here. "'Get up atsix o'clock.'

Why the hell would you want to do that?"

"I don't, apparently, because I've only been up since eight."

"'Prayer, meditation, gratitude, and daily affirmations,'" he went on. "What's a daily affirmation? No, don't tell me."

"Affirmations are positive statements. A benevolent kind of thought control. For example, here's one:'No matter how much Lorenzo Gage annoys me, I'll remember that he, too, is one of God's creatures.' Not God's best work perhaps, but..."