The Last Mrs. Parrish

by Liv Constantine

  “Of course. No problem.” She picked up the pile and the checkbook but hesitated before leaving his office. “You know, I’m feeling like Telemachos.”

  Jackson’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “What?”

  “You know, from The Odyssey.”

  “I know who Telamachos is. You’ve read The Odyssey?”

  Amber nodded. “A few times. I love it. I love the way he takes on more and more responsibility. So . . . don’t ever feel like you’re giving me too much.”

  The way he looked at her felt to Amber as if he was appraising her, and it seemed to her that she had definitely scored a lot of points. She smiled sweetly and left him still studying her as she walked out the door.

  She dropped everything onto her desk and began going through the folders. It turned out to be a very interesting exercise. Amber was astounded at the enormous sums of money Daphne spent each month. There were charges at Barney’s, Bergdorf Goodman, Neiman Marcus, Henri Bendel, and independent boutiques, not to mention the couture houses and jewelers. In one month alone she’d bought over $200,000 worth of merchandise. Then came the nanny salaries, and the housekeeper and the driver. Daphne’s gym membership and private yoga and Pilates classes. The girls’ riding and tennis lessons. The country-club dues. The yacht-club fees. The shows and dinners. The trips. It went on and on, like a freaking fairy tale.

  Amber’s new salary was a pittance compared to the money Daphne could access. One bill in particular stopped her in her tracks—it was for a red crocodile Hermès Birkin. She did a double take when she saw the price: $69,000. For a purse! That was more than half her annual salary. And Daphne would probably use it a couple of times, then throw it in her closet. Amber’s outrage was so palpable, she thought she would choke. It was obscene. If Daphne really wanted to help families living with CF, why didn’t she donate more of her own money to them and be satisfied with the dozen designer purses she already had? What a little hypocrite. At least Amber was honest with herself about her motives. When she was married to Jackson, she wouldn’t waste her time pretending to care about charity work.

  Daphne didn’t have to lift a finger at home, could buy anything she wanted, and had a husband who loved her, and she couldn’t even pay her own bills? How spoiled could you get? Amber would never be lazy enough to give someone else an inside view into her lifestyle. Now that she had seen even more deeply into the pampered life Daphne led, she realized how limitless Jackson’s wealth was and became even more determined to carry out her plan.

  It took her over an hour and a half to wade through all the bills and receipts, and by the time she was finished, she was positively steaming. She got up from her desk and went to the coffee bar down the hall. On the way back, she stopped in the ladies’ room and looked at herself in the mirror. She liked what she saw, but it was time to up the ante, make herself just a bit sexier, but in a subtle way—have him wonder what was different about her. When she got back to her desk, she saw that Jackson had already left for the day. She put the bills and checkbook in her drawer, locked it, and drank her coffee. When she finally closed her office door and walked out of the building, plans were forming in her mind. She had the whole weekend to perfect them.

  Twenty-Six

  On Saturday she met Daphne at Barnes & Noble, and then they went to lunch at the small café across the street. They sat at a small booth near the back of the restaurant, and Amber ordered a green salad with chicken. She was surprised when Daphne ordered a cheeseburger and fries, but said nothing.

  “So, Jackson tells me you’re doing an amazing job. Do you like it?”

  “I do. It is a lot of work, but I really love it. I can’t thank you enough for recommending me.”

  “I’m so glad. I knew you’d be great.”

  Amber looked at the package on the seat next to Daphne, which she’d been carrying all morning. “What’s in the bag, Daph?”

  “Oh, that. It’s a bottle of perfume I have to return. It’s the one I used to wear when Jackson and I met, and he loved it. I haven’t worn it in a long time, so I decided to try it again, but I must be allergic now. Broke out in hives.”

  “That’s terrible. What’s it called?”

  “Incomparable. Ha. That’s how I felt when I wore it.”

  Their food arrived, and Daphne dug into the cheeseburger as if she hadn’t eaten in days. “Mm. Delicious,” she said.

  “What was it like? You know, when you and Jackson were dating?”

  “I was so young and inexperienced, but in some crazy way, I think that appealed to him. He’d been with so many glamour girls who knew their way around, I think he liked that he could take me to places I’d never been and show me things I’d never seen.” She paused and had a faraway look in her eyes. “I hung on his every word.” She looked back at Amber. “He likes to be adored, you know.” She laughed. “And it’s pretty easy to adore him. He’s one of a kind.”

  “Yes, he is,” Amber agreed.

  “Anyway, I guess nothing stays the same. Of course, now things are different.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, you know. Children come along. Things become routine. Lovemaking isn’t as passionate. Sometimes you’re just too tired, and sometimes you just don’t feel like it.”

  “Must be especially hard when you have a new baby. It must be so exhausting. You read all the time about new moms having postpartum depression.”

  Daphne was quiet and looked down for a moment. With her eyes still fixed on the floor, she said, “I’m sure it’s a terrible thing.”

  After a few awkward minutes, Amber tried again. “Well, anyway. Having children didn’t seem to put the damper on your romance. Every time I’m with you guys, it’s obvious that he’s crazy about you.”

  Daphne smiled. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

  “I hope I have such a great marriage one day. Like you and Jackson. The perfect couple.”

  Daphne took a sip of her coffee and looked at Amber a long moment. “Marriage is hard work. If you love someone, you don’t let anything destroy it.”

  This is getting interesting, Amber thought. “Like what?”

  “There was a bump in the road. Right after Bella was born.” She paused again, tilting her head. “There was an indiscretion.”

  “He cheated on you?”

  Daphne nodded. “It was just once. I was exhausted. Busy with the baby. We hadn’t made love in months.” She shrugged. “Men have their needs. Plus, it took me a long time to get back in shape.”

  Was Daphne seriously justifying what he did? She was even more gullible than Amber thought.

  “I’m not saying what he did was right. But he was sorry after and swore it would never happen again.” She gave Amber what looked like a forced smile. “And he never has.”

  “Wow. That must have been so hard for you. But at least you bounced back. The two of you seem very happy,” Amber said. She looked at her watch. “Well,” she said. “I guess we should be going. I have a salon appointment to get to.”

  After their lunch, Amber went home and ordered a bottle of Incomparable online. She looked up from the computer and smiled to herself, relishing her new piece of intel. He’d cheated before! If he could do it once, he could surely do it again.

  * * *

  Monday brought with it drowning rain and cold winds, which soaked Amber as she waited for the train. The only thing Amber disliked about her job was the long commute into the city. It was fine to come in for a leisurely day of checking out museums, but rush-hour travel was its own special torture. As she sat, still windblown and wet, wedged between a large man who smelled of cigars and a young boy with a dirty backpack, she read the advertisements above the windows across from her. She could practically recite them by heart now. She wondered what it was like to see your picture on the walls of trains or the side of buses. Did the models get a kick out of it? She fantasized about being the object of desire for thousands of men. Her body was certainly good enough, and with the ri
ght hair and makeup, she bet she’d look every bit as good as those stuck-up models, even though she was just five-seven, a few inches shorter than Daphne. They probably thought they were so special, sticking their fingers down their throats just to stay skinny. She would never do that—but then again, she was lucky to be naturally thin.

  By the time she arrived at Fifty-Seventh Street, the hems of her pants were almost dry. The rain had stopped, but the wind was still whipping furiously. She nodded at the doorman and said good morning to the guard at the front desk.

  “Good morning, Miss Patterson. Filthy weather out there. You still manage to look perfect though. New hairstyle?”

  She loved that they all knew who she was. “Yes, thanks.” She swiped her ID badge and walked to the elevator. Her first stop when she got upstairs was the ladies’ room. She pulled out her cordless flat iron and smoothed her hair, now shoulder length and a light-champagne blond. After she dabbed a drop of Incomparable on her wrists, the tennis shoes came off, and on went the nude Louboutins. She wore a black turtleneck sweater dress and a black lace push-up bra that beautifully enhanced her ample assets. On her wrist was a wide silver cuff bracelet. The only other jewelry were her earrings, hammered silver and stylishly simple. She smiled in the mirror, confident that she looked like she had just completed a Ralph Lauren photo shoot.

  When she entered her office, she saw that Jackson’s door was closed and the windows still dark. She made it her business to be there early every day, but Jackson still managed to beat her. Today was a rare exception. She started answering e-mails, and the next time she looked up, it was eight thirty. Jackson sauntered in after ten.

  “Good morning, Jackson. Everything okay?”

  “Morning. Yeah, fine. Had a conference at Bella’s school.” He unlocked his office door and then stopped. “By the way, we have a show tonight. Would you make a six o’clock dinner reservation for two at Gabriel’s?”

  “Certainly.”

  He started to go inside but stopped again. “You look very nice today.”

  Amber felt the heat rise on her neck. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

  “Nothing kind about it. Just the truth.” He walked into his office and closed the door.

  The thought of Daphne and Jackson having a romantic dinner and then sitting side by side in a Broadway theater pissed her off. She wanted to be the one sitting next to him in those primo seats, everyone looking at her with envy. But she knew that she had to keep her head about her. It wouldn’t serve her to lose her cool and do something stupid.

  Later that afternoon, she and Jackson were going over his itinerary for next week’s trip to China when Daphne called his cell. Amber heard only his side of the conversation, but it was apparent he wasn’t pleased. He clicked off and threw the phone onto the desk. “Shit. Totally screws up the plans for tonight.”

  “Is Daphne all right?”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “She’s fine. So to speak. Says Bella’s not well. Doesn’t want to come in for the play.”

  “I’m sorry,” Amber said. “Shall I cancel the reservation?”

  Jackson thought about this a few seconds and then gave Amber an appraising look. “Any chance you’d be interested in dinner and a show?”

  Amber felt her stomach drop. This was too easy, falling into her lap like a gift from the heavens. “I’d love to. I’ve never been to a Broadway show.” She hadn’t forgotten that he liked innocence and first-timers.

  “Good. These tickets for Hamlet are a hot item, limited run, and I don’t want to miss it. Let’s finish up by five thirty or so and we’ll grab a cab to the restaurant. Reservation’s at six?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Let’s get back to work.”

  Amber went back to her desk and phoned Daphne, who answered after one ring.

  “Daphne, it’s Amber. Jackson told me Bella’s not well. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  “No, I don’t think so. Just some sniffles and a low-grade fever. You know, she just wants Mommy. I didn’t want to leave her.”

  “Yes, I can understand why you wouldn’t.” She paused. “Jackson asked me to fill in for you tonight. I just wanted to let you know. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Of course I don’t mind. I think it’s a great idea. Enjoy yourself.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Daphne. I hope Bella’s feeling better soon.”

  For once, Amber was filled with gratitude for the little nuisance.

  They left the office at five thirty on the dot. She felt a rush sitting next to him in the taxi. It was better than the best high she’d ever experienced. When they walked into the restaurant, she was pleased by the admiring glances of those around her. Amber knew she looked good, and the man with his hand on her back was one of the richest men in the room. They were seated at a table in a quiet corner of the posh restaurant, bathed in candlelight.

  “Wow, I’ve never been in a restaurant like this.”

  “This was one of the first places I brought Daphne when we started dating.”

  Daphne was the last thing Amber wanted to talk about, but if he insisted, maybe she could spin it to her advantage. “Daphne’s talked a lot about your dating days, how different it was then.”

  He sat back in his chair and smiled. “Different? Yes, it was different then. There’s nothing like the rush that comes with falling in love. And I fell hard, that’s for sure. I’d never met anyone like her.” He took a sip of wine, and once again, Amber admired his fine hands.

  “Sounds like you were made for each other.” She practically had to choke the words out.

  He put the glass down and nodded. “Daphne has grown into such an amazing woman over the years. I look at all she’s accomplished and am so proud of her. I have the perfect wife.”

  Amber almost gagged on her salad. Just when she thought he might be noticing the changes in her, the new, stylish, and attractive Amber, he was going on about his golden wife.

  They talked mostly about business after that, and he treated her as any colleague he might have been dining with. When they got to the theater and took their seats—in a box—she let herself imagine again what it would be like to be married to him. If only he were interested in her as a woman and not just an assistant, the night would have been perfect.

  When the curtain fell at eleven, Amber was not ready to end the evening. There were still plenty of bustling crowds on the street, and it looked as if all the restaurants and cafés were filled with patrons.

  As they strolled toward Times Square, Jackson looked at his watch. “It’s getting late, and we have an early day tomorrow—the meeting with Whitcomb Properties.”

  “I’m wide awake. Not tired at all,” she said.

  “You might feel different when your alarm—” He stopped midsentence. “You’re going to be exhausted in the morning. Daphne and I were going to stay at the apartment tonight, and when she couldn’t make it, I told her I was going to go ahead and stay by myself. You could stay in the guest room. It seems foolish for you to take a train at this late hour, and you’ve stayed with us in the city before. I suppose the only problem is clothing.”

  “I’m sure Daphne wouldn’t mind if I borrow something. After all, she lent me a designer gown for the fund-raiser. I’m only one size smaller than she is.” Amber hoped he didn’t miss the comparison.

  “Okay, then.” Jackson hailed a cab, and Amber sank back into the seat, happy with this turn of events.

  The taxi let them off in front of an uptown building, and they walked under the long canopy to the entrance. “Good evening, Mr. Parrish.” The doorman’s face showed no reaction to Amber, whether because of discretion or lack of interest, she didn’t know.

  The private elevator opened directly into the foyer of the large space. It was unlike their house, a more modern and minimalist design, all in shades of white and gray. The focal points were the paintings on the walls, abstract art with bursts of color that fused it all together. She took
it all in, overwhelmed.

  “I’m going to grab a nightcap,” Jackson said. “The guest bedroom is the third door on the right. Fresh towels and toothbrushes, everything you might need. But before that, why don’t you take a look in Daphne’s closet and pick something out for the morning?” He went to the glass cart that held bottles and decanters and poured himself a scotch.

  “Okay. I won’t be long.” She walked into the sumptuous bedroom, wanting nothing more than for Jackson to swoop in and throw her onto the king-size bed. Instead, she searched the bureau for Daphne’s lingerie. She pondered again the evidence of an uptight Daphne whose drawers were in such order as to be almost laughable. Pulling out black lace panties, she held them up and nodded. They would do. Next, she went to the closet, where each garment was evenly spaced, just as it was at home. She took out a delicious red Armani suit and white camisole. Perfect. Now the stockings. She opened several drawers before finding them and chose a pair of sheer and silky thigh-highs in beige. She’d look like a million bucks tomorrow.

  Amber grabbed her items and reluctantly left the bedroom.

  Jackson looked up from his drink. “All set?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Jackson. It’s been a wonderful evening.”

  “Glad you enjoyed it. Good night,” he said and gave a little nod as he headed toward his bedroom.

  The guest room was supplied to fulfill every possible need, just as Jackson had said. Amber stripped out of the day’s clothes, showered, brushed her teeth, and got into bed. She relaxed into the soft feather mattress that seemed to hug her and pulled the down comforter up to her chin. It felt like she was resting on a cloud, but she was having a difficult time falling asleep, knowing that Jackson was lying in bed just a few rooms away. She hoped he would feel how much she lusted for him, and find his way into her bed, where he’d forget all about his perfect wife. After what seemed like an eternity, she realized it wasn’t going to happen and fell into a fitful sleep.