His Other Woman: A Renny and Rachel Christmas Romance (2 page)

3.

To say I was nervous on the hour drive to the Taylor house would be like saying dogs kinda like to smell asses. I don’t know if I have ever had a bigger knot in my stomach, except maybe the first shelling I went through in Iraq. That time I actually shit myself in fear (don’t judge me, it was intense) and this time I was shit free. I didn’t want to be an old,
incontinent
war whore.

Renny kept looking at me and patting me on the knee. I know he was trying to encourage me but it felt like I was on my way to the firing squad. Any minute I was sure he would ask me what I would like for my last meal.

Why was I so worried? We were adults after all.  Who cared what they thought of me or our relationship?

Renny cared. He wanted me to like them and vice versa. It was clear to me that for our relationship to have a chance in hell of continuing past the fuck buddy stage I would need their seal of approval. So that’s why I was nervous. You know what I said about people not giving up power and fame once they got it; yeah, well, they don’t give up love any easier. Especially me. Fame and fortune could go fuck themselves, love was my opium and Renny was a great little pusher. (Pun totally intended.)

In my mind their home would be a ramshackle, older ranch style house with a few pigs in front and a couple of hound dogs roaming in the dirt yard.  I had no idea where I got that idea? Little House on the Prairie?

I couldn’t have been more wrong. My first glimpse of the Taylor compound was a pair of gorgeous polished wood gates inset with what I assumed was the Taylor crest. I couldn’t see anything of the actual house from the gates, just rolling fields of grass. Even in December it was green and lush.

Renny punched in some code in a small box off to the side and the gates magically opened. We pulled onto a cobbled driveway that took us up the side of a hill. At the top of the hill Renny stopped so I could take in the whole picture. What a picture!

A gorgeous Arts and Crafts style bungalow (but HUGE) nestled in the valley between the hill we were on and another some distance away. I gasped when I saw it because it was like someone had rummaged through my secret file. I had kept a file of house ideas for years and everything in it was here, the copper lanterns, the wide, covered porch that wrapped around the house, the gleaming wood. I was sure that inside I would see embroidered tapestries, mica lamps, floral rugs and a gigantic stone fireplace. It was a dream come true. I wasn’t going to have to fake enthusiasm for the house, that was for sure.

It seemed to be laid out in wings, three to be exact. I had no doubt that the boys had a wing to themselves and this calmed me down a bit. I had nightmares about trying to quietly bonk their son while Ruth and Jonathan listened with a glass pressed against the wall. Uh, no. That wouldn’t be happening. In fact, I bet I could scream as loud as… well, as loud as Renny sometimes made me scream and no one would even notice. Good to know. I hadn’t been much of a screamer before Renny came along. I am now an avid member of the Scream-a-day club.

I had to get out of the car to see the rest. I did feel like I was in some kind of hallucination. To one side was a huge stable with the requisite dogs lazing in the sun. No chickens though. I bet the chickens had a cottage in back. Complete with Jacuzzi.

I saw some kind of backyard deck space but it wasn’t clear. What was clear was the gorgeous water in the gigantic pool, complete with giant slide.  I turned to Renny. “In December? You have a pool filled in December?”

“What? It’s heated. You’ve never been skinny-dipping at Christmas?”

“Not since I left L.A.”

“Prepare yourself,” he said, nuzzling my neck, “’cause I love a swim at midnight.” Something told me he didn’t mean swim in the strict meaning of swim.

I was a little weak. Pathetic or wonderful? Who gives a shit, I’m gonna have hot sex in a cool pool with a steamy man on a moonlit night.

On the hill behind the house was a small, log cabiny looking building.

“What’s that?” I asked pointing to it.

“That’s where I grew up.”

“Oh.”

“Wasn’t born with the silver spoon. Garret, Reade and I built this spread a couple of years ago for our folks and ourselves. We each get a wing and it works pretty well, especially since we’re not here a lot.”

“I only see three wings, do you and Reade only count as one?”

“No, he has a small house a few yards away. He built that when he got married.  My Mom and Claire aren’t as chummy as everyone had hoped so it seemed like a good idea to give them some space.”

“Why doesn’t your Mom like Claire?” I wondered, already worried about my reception. If they didn’t like Claire, who had spawned them a grandchild, what would they think of me?

“Who says it was my Mom?”

The look he gave me was as cryptic as Renny gets. Still, I knew it meant that we weren’t going to discuss the issue anymore. In fact, I had pumped Renny for details about his parents for weeks and all I would get is “you just have to meet them.” I wondered what the skeleton in the Taylor closet was. Guess I was about to find out.

Renny drove down the hill and into the circular drive before parking in front of the house. Immediately the door flew open and people poured out. I felt like Renny must feel at every concert. I found myself shrinking into my seat and praying for an invisibility cloak. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t me they wanted to hug. Peeking out the window I watched as Renny was covered head to toes in Taylors. Taylors of all shapes, ages, sizes, genders. So that’s why he does so well with the fans, he’s used to being mugged with love.

After a long minute Renny extricated himself and opened my door, taking my hand and “presenting” me to the mob. They stood in a line as though I was there to inspect the household staff.

No one looked old enough to be his folks so I presumed we would have a more formal meeting inside. The mob all began asking me questions, surrounding me and following us as we made very slow progress into the house. As I was being swept along by Taylor madness, I peeked back to see someone lifting our luggage out of the trunk. No, he wasn’t wearing a butler’s uniform, just jeans and some flannel. In fact, there was so much flannel I felt like I was at a lumberjack convention. Suddenly I worried that my Marlene clothes were going to be completely wrong. Ah well, I should have brought the acid-washed jeans and been myself. You live, you learn.

As soon as I was inside the house proper and the minions had skittered off Renny led me through a two-story open-beamed grand hall to a room off to the right. It was enormous but cozy at the same time. The centerpiece of the room was the giant stone fireplace that dominated the far wall from top to bottom. On each side were a set of French doors leading to the pool had seen from above. Although I could see people outside, splashing, talking and drinking; we couldn’t hear a thing.

Three giant corduroy couches in stunning dark blood red were set in a U formation in front of the fireplace. Inside the U stood a simply gorgeous wood table which appeared to be an original Stickley. Copper and Mica lamps filled the space with light, the floors covered with simple, floral wool rugs in earth colors with a touch of red running through them. I’m not a designer but I know what I like and this was it.

“Oh my God,” I couldn’t help exclaiming, “this is gorgeous!”

“I’m glad you like it,” said a small woman sitting on one edge of the middle sofa. She had turned slightly to us but hadn’t risen or even made eye contact. A little rude, but what the heck.

Renny grabbed my hand and pulled me with him as he leaned over the back of the couch kissing the woman on the head and then steered me around to stand in front of her. Now, I knew why she didn’t stand; there was a walker perched beside her. She appeared frail and very small.

“Mother, this is Rachel, Rachel, Ruth Taylor.”

I bent down to shake her hand which she limply offered. Her soft drawl was very genteel indeed.

“A pleasure,” she managed.

Ah, no, it wasn’t. She looked as though someone had offered her dog piss to drink. Maybe she always looked like that? She was infirm or something, right?

“It is, I mean, to meet you, Mrs. Taylor.”

“Why don’t you call me Ruth, dear.”

“All right. Ruth.”

“Sit, sit,” she insisted and almost instantly a real live servant, complete with uniform, came in with tea, and cakes, the whole nine yards. She set it on the “maybe Stickley” and I cringed but this was apparently where it went. A cup of something was already mixed and was handed to Ruth. She nodded, ever the gracious mistress of the house. She may not have had money until recently but she sure took to it with a vengeance.

“Where’s Pop?’ Renny asked as he shoveled a small cake into his mouth, offering the plate to me. I didn’t think I could possibly eat anything. I wasn’t sure my jaw would even open much less chew. I waved them away and Renny looked puzzled. He knew I was a sugar freak and these were seriously awesome. I think it was the first time he realized just how uncomfortable I was.

“Your father is out with his damn alpacas.”

“Alpacas!” I couldn’t help myself. I’d never seen alpacas. Llamas, sure, they’re all over Oregon, and camels – seeing one of those nasty beasts is one too many and I’d actually ridden one. But alpacas are cute!  I seriously wanted to see some alpacas.

“You have alpacas here?’

“We have three alpacas. The others died. Renny’s father thought he could sell their wool like sheep. .. Turns out they missed Peru.”

Renny swiveled to me. “That happened years ago. These three have stayed the course and now they’re just Dad’s pets basically. You wanna see ‘em?”

“I do!”

“Won’t you at least finish your tea?” Ruth asked rather tersely.

Renny flashed me a “oh, oh we’re in trouble” look like as though he had instantly turned into a small boy. Ruth may be small, she may be frail, but like every other matriarch of boys I’ve ever met, she ruled with an iron will. Cliché? Sure. Intimidating? You betcha’.

Renny downed his tea in a rush, grabbed two more cakes and grabbed my hand. I rushed a thank you as we made our way out the French doors and past the pool.

A few yards down the path and I could see a small corral and the most absurdly, fantastical little shed I had ever laid eyes on. In the corral was a tall, thin man looking at the hoof of a gorgeous, fluffy, black and white creature. Two others were close by, munching away on grass and eyeing us with their almost googly eyes as we approached. I couldn’t wait to touch them.

The two loose ones meandered over as soon as we were through the gate, leaning into us for affection. I rubbed the head of the one closest to me while Renny patted the other like a giant dog. Jonathan Taylor let go of the hoof and the third beauty came over to get some of what his brother and sister were getting.

Jonathan looked at us and laughed, “Hey there boy, this the new filly?” You heard me. He spoke out of an old western movie and I was instantly smitten. What a face! Lined and sparkly, his full head of hair receding a bit but slicked back as if going out to dance. If there is kindness visible in facial features, Jonathan Taylor had that in spades.

Although Renny had only been gone one day his father hugged him like it had been weeks. He gave him a stout pat on the back and turned to me.

“Rachel, yes?” I nodded. “It is very nice to meet you. You like my babies?”

“I love them.”

“You know they’re part of the camel family. Hard to believe, eh?”

“Rachel’s ridden camels Dad.”

“Really,” he was fascinated. “Where on earth did you ride a camel little lady?”

Ah, that’s where Renny gets the ‘little lady’. I was sincerely hoping his Dad didn’t call me ‘baby girl’ –that would have been too incestuous for this tame dame.

“She was in Afghanistan for two years,” Ren answered for me. He was showing me off, puffing me up. Wow. He was actually proud of me for riding a camel. What a weird guy.

“What branch?” Jonathan asked me.

“I wasn’t in the service, sir. I’m a reporter. I, uh, was a reporter at the time.”

And then Jonathan seemed to drift away in his mind. I could tell he had left ‘the building.’ So could Ren.

“Dad, Dad, you okay?”

He answered but didn’t fully return to us. “Sure, sure. What you think of Beatrice here? Gotten big, hasn’t she?” He stroked the smallest of the meandering creatures.

“She sure has Dad. She’s a beauty.”

Jonathan turned to me. “They make great wool for coats you know. We’re going to have a whole herd here. Make some money, right son?”

Something told me that Jonathan had gone into the past. Did he have Alzheimer’s? Oh God, I hoped not, he was such a sweet man and Renny seemed to love him so much. Plus, truth be told, he wasn’t much older than me.

So, this was Renny’s family situation; an infirm Mother and a partly senile Father. No wonder they built a house for them all to live close by. It explained the maid as well. I had jumped to unflattering conclusions. Renny had never, even once, hinted that all may not be well with his folks. My expectations had been so totally wrong. Isn’t that always the case?

It turned out that the fantastical little building that looked like a Swiss Ski Chalet was the house of the alpacas. If alpacas are anything like llamas or camels they’re not really into the indoor thing. These didn’t appear any different but we put away the tool Jon had been using in the spotlessly clean alpaca barn and then Renny gently led his Dad into the house.