The Last Mrs. Parrish Page 4

  “Well, enjoy,” he said, and got into the car.

  “He’s such a nice young man,” Daphne said as she and Amber walked up the wide stairs into the building. “His mother used to work for Jackson, but she’s been very ill the last few years. Danny takes care of her and is also working to put himself through college.”

  Amber wondered what he thought about all the money he saw thrown around at this club while he nursed a sick mother and worked to make ends meet, but she bit her tongue.

  Daphne suggested they eat on the deck, and so the maître d’ led them outside, where Amber breathed in the bracing sea air she loved so much. They were seated at a table overlooking the marina, its three long piers filled with boats of all shapes and sizes bobbing up and down in the choppy waters.

  “Wow, this is just beautiful,” Amber said.

  “Yes, it is. A nice setting to remember all the wonderful things about Charlene and Julie.”

  “My sister would have loved it here,” Amber said, and meant it. None of her perfectly healthy sisters would have even been able to imagine a place like this. She tore her gaze away from the water and turned to Daphne. “You must come here a lot with your family.”

  “We do. Jackson, of course, heads right for the golf course whenever he can. Tallulah and Bella take all kinds of lessons—sailing, swimming, tennis. They’re quite the little athletes.”

  Amber wondered what it would be like to grow up in this kind of world, where you were groomed from infancy to have and enjoy all the good things in life. Where you made friends almost from birth with the right people and were educated in the best schools, and the blinds were tightly drawn against outsiders. She was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness and envy.

  The waiter brought two tall glasses of iced tea and took their lunch order—a small salad for Daphne and ahi tuna for Amber.

  “Now,” Daphne said, as they waited. “Tell me a good memory about your sister.”

  “Hmm. Well, I remember when she was just a few months old, my mom and I took her for a walk. I would have been six. It was a beautiful, sunny day and Mom let me push the carriage. Of course she was right next to me, just in case.” Amber warmed to her subject, embellishing the story as she continued. “But I remember feeling so grown-up and so happy to have this new little sister. She was so pretty, with her blue eyes and yellow curls. Just like a picture. And I think from that day on, I sort of felt like she was my little girl too.”

  “That’s really lovely, Amber.”

  “What about you? What do you remember?”

  “Julie and I were only two years apart, so I don’t remember much about when she was a baby. But later, she was so brave. She always had a smile on her beautiful face. Never complained. She always said if someone had to have cystic fibrosis, she was glad it was her because she wouldn’t have wanted another child to suffer.” Daphne stopped and looked out at the water. “There was not one ounce of unkindness in her. She was the best person I’ve ever known.”

  Amber shifted in her chair and felt a discomfort she didn’t quite understand.

  Daphne went on. “The part that’s hard to think about is all she went through. Every day. All the medications she had to take.” She shook her head. “We used to get up early together, and I would talk to her while she had her vest on.”

  “Yes, the vibrating contraption.” Amber remembered reading about the vest that helped dislodge mucus from the lungs.

  “It became routine—the vest, the nebulizer, the inhaler. She spent more than two hours a day trying to stave off the effects of the disease. She truly believed she would go to college, marry, have children. She said she worked so hard at all her therapies and exercised because that’s what would give her a future. She believed to the very end,” Daphne said, as a single tear ran down her cheek. “I would give anything to have her back.”

  “I know,” Amber whispered. “Maybe our sisters’ spirits have somehow brought us together. It sort of makes it like they’re here with us.”

  Daphne blinked back more tears. “I like that idea.”

  Daphne’s memories and Amber’s stories continued through the lunch, and as the waiter took their plates away, Amber felt a flash of brilliance and turned to him. “We’re celebrating two birthdays today. Would you bring us a piece of chocolate cake to share?”

  The smile that Daphne bestowed on Amber was filled with warmth and gratitude.

  He brought them the cake with two lighted candles, and with a flourish said, “A very happy birthday to you.”

  Their lunch lasted a little over an hour, but Amber didn’t have to hurry back since Mark wasn’t due back in the office until at least three o’clock, and she had told Jenna she might be a little late.

  “Well,” Daphne said when they’d finished their coffee. “I suppose I should get you back to the office. Don’t want to get you in trouble with your boss.”

  Amber looked around for their waiter. “Shouldn’t we wait for the check?”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Daphne said, waving her hand. “They’ll just put it on our account.”

  But of course, Amber thought. It seemed the more money you had, the less you had to actually come into contact with the filthy stuff.

  When they pulled up to the realty office, Daphne put the car in park and looked at Amber. “I really enjoyed today. I’ve forgotten how good it is to talk to someone who really understands.”

  “I enjoyed it too, Daphne. It helped a lot.”

  “I was wondering if you might be free on Friday night to have dinner with us. What do you say?”

  “Gosh, I’d love to.” She was thrilled at how quickly Daphne was opening up to her.

  “Good,” Daphne said. “See you on Friday. Around six o’clock?”

  “Perfect. See you then. And thank you.” As Amber watched her drive away, she felt like she had just won the lottery.

  Eight

  The day after her lunch with Daphne, Amber stood behind Bunny in the Zumba class at the gym. She laughed to herself, watching Bunny trip over her feet trying to keep up with the instructor. What a klutz, she thought. After class, Amber took her time dressing behind the row of lockers next to Bunny’s in the locker room, listening to the trophy wife and her sycophants discuss her plans.

  “When are you meeting him?” one asked.

  “Happy hour at the Blue Pheasant. But remember, I’m with you girls tonight, if your husbands ask.”

  “The Blue Pheasant? Everyone goes there. What if someone sees you?”

  “I’ll say he’s a client. I do have my real estate license, after all.”

  Amber heard snickering.

  “What, Lydia?” Bunny snapped.

  “Well, it’s not exactly like you’ve been doing much with it since you married March.”

  March Nichols’s net worth of $100 million stuck in Amber’s head—that and the fact that he resembled Methuselah. Amber could understand why Bunny looked elsewhere for sex.

  “We won’t be there long, anyway. I reserved a room at the Piedmont across the street.”

  “Naughty, naughty. Did you book it under Mrs. Robinson?”

  They were all laughing now.

  Old husband, young lover—there was a certain poetry to it. Amber had what she needed, so she jumped into the shower, then rushed back to the office, excuse at the ready to explain her long absence.

  Later that day, she got to the bar early and sat with her book and a glass of wine at a table near the back. As it began to fill up, she tried to guess which one he was. She’d settled on the cute blond in jeans when McDreamy walked in. With jet-black hair and bright blue eyes, he was a dead ringer for Patrick Dempsey. His camel-colored cashmere jacket and black silk scarf were meticulously sloppy. He ordered a beer and took a swig from the bottle. Bunny came in, eyes laser-focused on him, and, rushing to the bar, she flung her arms around him. Standing so close a matchbook wouldn’t have fit between them, they were obviously besotted with each other. They finished their drinks and ordered a
nother round. McDreamy put his arm around Bunny’s waist, pulling her even closer. Bunny turned up that adorable little face to him and locked her lips against his. At that precise moment, Amber turned her iPhone to silent, raised it, and snapped several photos of their enraptured display. They finally pulled apart long enough to gulp down the second drink they’d ordered and then leave the bar arm in arm. No doubt they were not going to waste any more time at the bar when the hotel across the street beckoned.

  Amber finished her drink and scrolled through the pictures. She was still laughing as she walked to her car. Poor old March would be getting some very enlightening photographs tomorrow. And Bunny—well, Bunny would be too distraught to continue with her duties as Daphne’s cochair.

  Nine

  Amber had been counting the days until Friday. She would finally get to meet Jackson at dinner, and she was giddy with anticipation. By the time she rang the doorbell, she felt ready to burst.

  Daphne greeted her with a dazzling smile, taking her by the hand. “Welcome, Amber. So good to see you. Please, come in.”

  “Thanks, Daphne. I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” Amber said as she entered the large hallway.

  “I thought we might have a drink in the conservatory before dinner,” Daphne said, and Amber followed her into the room. “What will you have?”

  “Um, I think I’d like a glass of red wine,” Amber said. She looked around the room, but Jackson was nowhere in sight.

  “Pinot noir okay?”

  “Perfect,” Amber said, wondering where the hell Jackson was.

  Daphne handed her the glass and, as if reading her mind, said, “Jackson had to work late, so it’ll just be us girls tonight—you, me, Tallulah, and Bella.”

  Amber’s exhilaration evaporated. Now she’d have to sit and listen to the mind-numbing chatter of those kids all evening.

  Just then Bella came tearing into the room.

  “Mommy, Mommy,” she wailed, thrusting herself forward onto Daphne’s lap. “Tallulah won’t read to me from my Angelina Ballerina book.”

  Tallulah was right behind her. “Mom, I’m trying to help her read it by herself, but she won’t listen,” she said, sounding like a miniature adult. “I was reading way harder books at her age.”

  “Girls. No quarreling tonight,” Daphne said, ruffling Bella’s curls. “Tallulah was just trying to help you, Bella.”

  “But she knows I can’t do it,” Bella said, her face still in Daphne’s lap and her voice muffled.

  Daphne stroked her daughter’s head. “It’s all right, darling. Don’t worry, you will soon.”

  “Come on, ladies,” Daphne addressed them all. “Let’s go out to the deck and have a nice dinner. Margarita made some delicious guacamole we can start with.”

  Summer would be coming to an end soon, and there was a slight breeze that held just a hint of cooler days to come. Even a casual dinner on Daphne’s deck took on an air of style and sophistication, Amber thought. Triangular dishes of bright red sat on navy blue place mats, and napkin rings decorated with silver sailboats held blue-and-white-checked napkins. Amber noticed that each place setting was identically placed. It reminded her of the British films about aristocracy, where the waitstaff actually measured every item placed on the dining table. Couldn’t this woman ever relax?

  “Amber, why don’t you sit there,” Daphne said, pointing to a chair directly facing the water.

  The view, of course, was stunning, with a velvety lawn gently sloping to a sandy beach and the water beyond. She counted five Adirondack chairs clustered on the sand, a few yards back from the water’s edge. How picturesque and inviting it looked.

  Bella was eyeing Amber from across the table. “Are you married?”

  Amber shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

  “How come?” Bella asked.

  “Darling, that’s a rather personal question.” Daphne looked at Amber and laughed. “Sorry about that.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Amber turned her attention to Bella. “I suppose I haven’t met Mr. Right.”

  Bella narrowed her eyes. “Who’s Mr. Right?”

  “It’s just an expression, silly. She means she hasn’t met the right one for her,” Tallulah explained.

  “Hmph. Maybe it’s ’cause she’s kind of ugly.”

  “Bella! You apologize this minute.” Daphne’s face had turned bright pink.

  “Why? It’s true, isn’t it?” Bella insisted.

  “Even if it’s true, it’s still rude,” Tallulah offered.

  Amber cast her eyes downward, trying to appear hurt, and said nothing.

  Daphne stood up. “That’s it. The two of you can eat by yourselves in the kitchen. Sit there and think about the proper way to speak to others.” She rang for Margarita and sent the girls off, amid protests. She came over to Amber and put an arm around her shoulder. “I am so, so sorry. I’m beyond embarrassed and appalled by their behavior.”

  Amber gave her a small smile. “You don’t need to apologize. They’re kids. They don’t mean anything by it.” She smiled again, buoyed by the thought that now they could spend the rest of the evening unfettered by the little brats.

  “Thank you for being so gracious.”

  They chatted about this and that and enjoyed a delicious dinner of shrimp scampi over quinoa and a spinach salad. Amber noticed, though, that Daphne had barely taken two bites of the scampi and not much more of her salad. Amber finished every bit of hers, not about to waste this expensive food.

  It was beginning to get cool, and she was relieved when Daphne suggested they go back in the sunroom for coffee.

  She followed Daphne until they reached a cheerful room decorated in yellows and blues. White bookcases lined the walls, and Amber lingered in front of one set, curious to see what Daphne liked to read. The shelves were lined with all the classics, in alphabetical order by author. Starting with Albee all the way to Woolf. She would bet there was no way Daphne had read them all.

  “Do you like to read, Amber?”

  “Very much. I’m afraid I haven’t read most of these, though. I’m more into contemporary authors. Have you read all of these?”

  “Yes, many of them. Jackson likes to discuss great books. We’re only to the H’s. We’re tackling Homer’s The Odyssey. Not quite light reading.” She laughed.

  A lovely porcelain turtle, as blue as the Caribbean, caught Amber’s attention and she reached out to touch it. She’d seen a few others throughout the house, each one unique and more exquisite than the last. She could tell they were all expensive, and she wanted to smash them to the floor. Here she was, struggling to make rent every month, and Daphne could throw money away collecting stupid turtles. It was so unfair. She turned away and took a seat on the silk love seat next to Daphne.

  “This has been so much fun. Thanks again for having me.”

  “It’s been wonderful. I enjoyed having another adult to talk to.”

  “Does your husband work late a lot?” Amber asked.

  Daphne shrugged. “It depends. He’s usually home for dinner. He likes the family to eat together. But he’s working on a new land deal in California, and with the time difference sometimes it can’t be helped.”

  Amber went to pick up the coffee cup from the table in front of her, and her grip slipped. The cup went crashing to the floor.

  “I’m so sorry—” The horrified look on Daphne’s face stopped Amber midsentence.

  Daphne flew from her chair and out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a white towel and a bowl with some sort of mixture in it. She started blotting the stain with the towel, and then rubbing it with whatever concoction she had mixed up.

  “Can I help?” Amber asked.

  Daphne didn’t look up. “No, no. I have it. Just wanted to make sure I got to it before the stain set.”

  Amber felt helpless, watching Daphne attack the stain as if her life depended on it. Wasn’t that what the help was for? She sat there, feeling like an idiot, while Daphn
e scrubbed furiously. Amber began to feel less bad and more annoyed. So she’d spilled something. Big deal. At least she hadn’t called anyone ugly.

  Daphne stood, took a last look at the now-clean rug, and gave Amber a sheepish shrug. “Goodness. Well, can I get you a new cup?”

  Was she for real? “No, that’s okay. I really should be going anyway. It’s getting late.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t have to go so soon.”

  Normally Amber would have stayed, played things out a little longer, but she didn’t trust herself not to give her annoyance away. Besides, she could see that Daphne was still on edge. What a clean freak she was. She’d probably examine the rug with a magnifying glass once Amber left.

  “Absolutely. This has been such a great evening. I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with you. I’ll see you next week at the committee meeting.”

  “Drive safely,” Daphne said as she closed the door.

  Amber glanced at the time on her phone. If she hurried, she could get to the library before it closed and check out a copy of The Odyssey.

  Ten

  By the third committee meeting, Amber was ready to execute the final stage of Operation Bye-Bye Bunny. Today she was wearing a thin wraparound sweater from the Loft over her best pair of black slacks. She dreaded seeing the other women and enduring their condescending glances and too-polite conversation. She knew she wasn’t one of them, and it infuriated her that she let it get to her. Taking a cleansing breath, she reminded herself that the only one she needed to worry about was Daphne.

  Forcing a smile, she rang the bell and waited to be escorted inside.

  The housekeeper opened the door in uniform.

  “Missus will be down shortly. She left a paper in the conservatory for you to look at while you wait.”

  Amber smiled at her. “Thanks, Margarita. By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you. The guacamole you made the other evening was divine—never had any as good. What’s your secret ingredient?”

  Margarita looked pleased. “Thank you, Miss Amber. You promise not to tell?”