The Last Mrs. Parrish

by Liv Constantine

  The next morning, after she’d showered and dressed, she phoned Daphne to let her know she’d spent the night. She didn’t want to give Daphne any reason to distrust her. Everything aboveboard—as far as Daphne was concerned, anyway. And Daphne, in her usual sweet manner, assured Amber that it was perfectly fine.

  Twenty-Seven

  Now that Amber had a front-row seat to the finances underpinning Daphne’s world, she understood why Daphne always looked fantastic—who wouldn’t, with that kind of money? From the top of her head to the bottom of her loofahed feet, people ministered to her on a daily basis. Amber got a taste of it when Daphne invited her to a small dinner party at the Parrish home. That’s where Amber met Gregg, the perfect antidote to her paltry wallet.

  They were seated next to each other at the dinner for fourteen. Gregg was young, and although he was good-looking, Amber thought his chin weak and the reddish tint to his hair not to her liking. But the more she examined him, the more she saw that other women would probably find him very attractive. It was just next to Jackson that he didn’t measure up.

  With so many individual conversations going on around the table, it was easy for Gregg to monopolize her for almost the entire evening. Amber found the conversation banal and Gregg boring beyond belief. He talked on and on about his work at the family’s hugely successful accounting firm.

  “It’s so fascinating to see how it all balances out, how perfectly it comes out in the end.” He was talking about the profit-and-loss statements, and Amber thought she’d rather have been having a root canal than listening to him talk about these stupid numbers.

  “I’m sure it’s incredible. But tell me, what do you do outside of work? You know, what kinds of hobbies do you have?” Amber had asked, hoping he might get the message.

  “Ah, hobbies. Well, let’s see. I golf, of course, and I home-brew my own beer. I play bridge. Really enjoy that.”

  Was he for real? Amber examined his face to see if he was putting her on, but no, he’d been perfectly serious.

  “How about you?” Gregg asked.

  “I love art, so I visit museums whenever I can. I love to swim, and I’ve come to enjoy kayaking. I read a lot.”

  “I don’t read much. I feel like, why read about someone else’s life when you should be out living your own?”

  Amber kept herself from spitting out her food in astonishment and simply nodded. “That’s an interesting take on books. Never heard that one before.”

  Gregg smiled as if she’d handed him a blue ribbon or something.

  She’d decided he would be useful, if tough to endure. He’d serve her purposes for the time being. He’d be her temporary ticket to dinners out, plays, and posh events. She figured she could easily get him to buy her expensive presents. She’d keep him by her side and hope that Jackson would look at him as a rival. She’d already seen his watchful eye on them tonight at dinner. And she’d seen too that Daphne looked pleased at Amber’s apparent attentiveness to Gregg. But Amber wasn’t interested in someone with a rich daddy. She wanted the rich daddy himself.

  In the meantime, she strung Gregg along, letting him take her out to nice restaurants and buy her presents. He’d already sent her flowers to the office twice since the dinner, and she was delighted that Jackson looked none too pleased when he picked up the card and read it. She supposed Gregg was nice enough and good-looking in his way, but he was such a dolt. Boring as an old shoe. He was a good cover, though, and as she moved her plan into overdrive, he would serve her well in making sure Daphne didn’t get suspicious or suddenly jealous of her.

  * * *

  A month had gone by since she and Gregg met at Daphne’s dinner party, and tonight they were all having dinner at the country club. She’d manipulated Daphne into it the other night on the phone.

  “I really want the four of us to get together,” she said on the phone. “But I don’t think Jackson wants to socialize with me, since I work for him.”

  Daphne hadn’t answered right away. “What do you mean?” she finally asked.

  “Well, you and I are so close. Best friends. And I want Gregg to get to know you, since I always tell him how we’re like sisters. He’s tried to arrange it with Jackson, but he always makes an excuse. Can you get him to do it?”

  Of course Daphne had. She would pretty much do anything Amber wanted; Amber’d play the little-sister card, and Daphne would fold.

  She suspected that Jackson was a snob at heart and didn’t consider her worthy of him socially. She didn’t hold it against him; she’d feel the same in his position. But she also noticed the way his body stayed a little closer to her when they were reviewing a document, the way his eyes held hers just a moment longer than necessary. And when he saw her with Gregg, she hoped the seeds of jealousy would take root and hasten the seduction.

  She took her time getting dressed and dabbed on the perfume that Daphne was now allergic to. Maybe it would make her eyes water, Amber thought spitefully. The dress was just low-cut enough to show off her cleavage, but not so low as to be slutty. She wore five-inch heels, wanting to be taller than Daphne for a change since Daphne had hurt her ankle playing tennis and was stuck in sensible shoes until it healed.

  Gregg picked her up right on time, and she ran down the stairs to his waiting Mercedes convertible. She loved slipping into the luxurious car and being seen in it as they drove around. Sometimes he let Amber drive it, and she loved the feel of this singularly superior vehicle. Gregg loved pampering her, and she milked it for all it was worth.

  She got in, admiring the saddle leather, and leaned in close to kiss him. He was a good kisser at least, and when she closed her eyes, she could pretend it was Jackson’s tongue in her mouth.

  “Mmm, you’re delicious,” she said, sliding back over. “But we’d better get going. Don’t want to keep Daphne and Jackson waiting.”

  Gregg took a deep breath and nodded. “I’d much rather sit here kissing you.”

  Even his lines were dull. She feigned desire. “Me too, but you promised you’d take it slow. I told you how hurt I was in my last relationship. I’m not ready yet.” She gave him a pretty pout.

  He took off, and they made small talk on the way to the club. They pulled through the gates right behind Jackson’s Porsche Spyder.

  “Park next to them, and we can walk in together.”

  She wanted Jackson to see her walking next to Daphne.

  Daphne and she got out of their cars at the same time, and Amber walked over to give her a kiss, noticing that Daphne was carrying the new Hermès purse.

  “Good timing!” Daphne smiled and gave her arm a squeeze.

  “Love your bag,” Amber said, trying to make herself sound sincere.

  “Oh, thanks.” She shrugged. “Just a little gift from Jackson.” She looked over at him and smiled. “He’s so good to me.”

  “Lucky lady,” Amber said, wanting to spit.

  The four of them walked in together, and Amber had to struggle to keep her eyes off Jackson and on Gregg.

  After they’d been seated and gotten their drinks, Gregg lifted his glass. “Cheers. So glad we were finally able to get together.” He put his arm around Amber. “I can’t thank you enough for introducing me to this gem.”

  Amber leaned over next to Gregg and kissed him. When she sat back up, she tried to gauge Jackson’s reaction, but his expression was unchanged.

  “We’re glad it worked out. I had a feeling you two would be perfect for each other,” Daphne answered.

  Amber snuck a glance at Jackson. He was frowning. Good. Licking her lips, she raised her glass of wine and took a long swallow, then looked at Gregg.

  “You were right; this is a better choice than the house cabernet. I wish I knew as much about wines as you.”

  “I’ll teach you,” he answered with a smile.

  “Actually,” Jackson said, “the 1987 vintage was better.” He gave Gregg an apologetic look. “Sorry, old chap, but I’m something of a sommelier. I’ll order a
bottle, and you’ll taste the difference.”

  “No worries. That’s the year I was born, so it was a good year,” Gregg answered, perfectly seriously.

  Amber had to struggle to keep from laughing. Gregg had put Jackson in his place even though he was too thick to realize it. But of course Jackson picked up on it right away. No matter how much more money or smarts Jackson had, he couldn’t make himself fifteen years younger.

  “Obviously age is what makes a wine so much more desirable. The older the better,” Amber said, slowly moving her tongue along her lips and looking at Jackson.

  Twenty-Eight

  Amber was about to get a new glimpse into the Parrishes’ life. When she did the bills, she had seen that they rented a house on Lake Winnipesaukee from Memorial Day to Labor Day, although they probably used it less than an accumulated four weeks. Amber was curious to see what kind of place warranted such an exorbitant rental fee, and today she would. She was waiting for Daphne to pick her up for a weekend at the lake house in New Hampshire. Jackson was on another of his many business trips abroad.

  At 8:30 sharp, the white Range Rover pulled up. Daphne jumped out of the car and opened the back hatch for Amber’s luggage.

  “Good morning.” Daphne hugged her and then took the bag from her. “So glad you’re coming with us.”

  “Me too.”

  It was a four-and-a-half-hour drive to Wolfeboro, but it seemed to go quickly with the girls sleepy and quiet in the back as Amber and Daphne chatted up front.

  “How are things at the office? Are you still liking it now with all the responsibilities?”

  “I really love it. Jackson’s a great boss.” She looked at Daphne. “But you must know that.”

  “I’m glad. By the way, I never thanked you for pinch-hitting for me the time you went to see Hamlet with him. Did you enjoy it?”

  “I did. It was so different to see it onstage. I’m sorry you had to miss it.”

  “I’m not a huge Shakespeare fan.” Daphne chuckled. “I know that’s an awful thing to admit, but I’m more suited to Broadway musicals. Jackson, on the other hand, adores Shakespeare.” She took her eyes from the road and glanced briefly at Amber. “He has tickets to The Tempest. I think it’s the week after next. Since you enjoyed Hamlet, if you don’t mind, I’ll ask him to take you instead.”

  “I’m sure he would want you to go.” Amber didn’t want to seem overly anxious.

  “He’ll love the idea of introducing you to more Shakespeare. And besides, you’d be doing me a big favor. I’d much rather be at home with the girls than listening to language I don’t understand half of.”

  This was too delicious. Daphne was practically handing Jackson to her on the proverbial silver platter. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess it would be okay.”

  “Good. That’s settled, then.”

  “Will your mom be coming to stay at all? I imagine she’s not too far from here.”

  She noticed Daphne’s hand tighten on the wheel. “New Hampshire’s bigger than you think. She’s actually a couple of hours away.”

  Amber waited for her to go on, but there was an awkward silence. She decided not to press it. A few minutes later, Daphne looked in the rearview mirror and spoke to the girls.

  “We’ve got about an hour left. Everyone okay, or do we need a bathroom break?”

  The girls said they were fine, and Amber and Daphne chatted about their plans for the rest of the day once they got to the house.

  They arrived at the charming little town of Wolfeboro around lunchtime and continued to the lake house, passing mile after mile of sparkling water and verdant hillsides. The homes along the banks were an exciting combination of old and new, some imposingly important and others small and eclectic. Amber was enchanted by the clear call of summer pleasures that seemed to hover over everything. Daphne pulled into the driveway, and the moment they opened the doors, the smell of honeysuckle and pine filled the car. Amber stepped onto the gravel, which was covered in pine needles, and breathed in the fresh air. This was paradise.

  “If everyone grabs something, we can do this in one trip,” Daphne called from the back of the Rover.

  Bags in hand, with even Bella helping out, they walked down the dirt path leading to the house. Amber stopped and stared, openmouthed, at the structure in front of her, an immense three-story cedar house abounding with porches, balconies, and white railings. Beyond it stood a large octagonal gazebo and a small boathouse that overlooked the pristine waters.

  The inside of the house was homey and comfortable, with old pine floors and cushioned furniture that invited relaxation. The front porch spanned the entire front of the house and looked over the lake.

  “Mom, Mom, Mom.” Bella had already gone upstairs and changed into her bathing suit. “Can we go swimming now?”

  “In a bit, sweetheart. Wait till we all get into our swimsuits.”

  Bella plopped herself onto one of the sofas to wait.

  The lake water was cold and clean. It took a while for them all to get used to it, but soon they were squealing and splashing and laughing. Amber and Daphne took a break and sat on the edge of the pier, legs dangling in the water as they watched the girls swim. The afternoon sun warmed their shoulders as the cold lake water dripped from their hair.

  Daphne kicked up a splash of water and turned to Amber. “You know,” she said, “I feel closer to you than anyone I know. It’s almost as if I have my sister back.” She looked out over the lake. “This is exactly what Julie and I would be doing now if she were alive—sitting here watching the girls, just enjoying being together.”

  Amber tried to think of a sympathetic response and then said, “It’s very sad. I understand.”

  “I know you do. It hurts me to think of all the things I would love to be sharing with her. But now, with you, I can do that. It’s not the same, of course, and I know you understand what I mean. But it makes me a little happier that we can make it hurt less.”

  “Just think, when Bella and Tallulah are grown, they’ll sit together like this. It’s nice that they’ll have each other.”

  “You’re right. But I’ve always felt it was a shame we didn’t have more.”

  “Did Jackson want to stop at two?”

  Daphne leaned back and looked up at the sky. “Quite the opposite. He was desperate for a son.” She squinted and put her hand up to shield her eyes from the light. Turning to Amber, she said, “It never happened though. We tried and tried, but I never got pregnant after Bella.”

  “I’m sorry,” Amber said. “Did you think of trying fertility treatments?”

  Daphne shook her head. “I didn’t want to be greedy. I felt like we’d been blessed with two healthy children, and I should be grateful for that. It was really only because Jackson had always wanted a boy.” She shrugged. “He talked about having a little Jackson Junior.”

  “It could still happen. Right?”

  “I guess anything is possible. But I’ve given up hoping for it.”

  Amber nodded solemnly, though she was dancing inside. So he wanted a boy, and Daphne couldn’t deliver. This was the best news yet.

  They were both quiet, and then Daphne spoke again. “I’ve been thinking; you shouldn’t have to do that commute every day while the apartment is just sitting there, empty. You’re more than welcome to stay at the apartment the nights Jackson isn’t there.”

  Amber was genuinely floored. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Daphne put her hand on top of Amber’s. “Say nothing. That’s what friends are for.”

  Twenty-Nine

  Amber was looking forward to sleeping in Daphne’s bed tonight. She was going to take Daphne up on her offer to use the apartment for the weekend. Since it was the last week in August, and Jackson had been telecommuting from the lake, the apartment was available. Amber had no big plans for the weekend, so she’d spend Saturday roaming around Manhattan. She texted Daphne to let her know and to thank her.

  She hadn’t been t
here in a while and was taken aback again at the sheer elegance and luxury. She imagined that bastard back home and his snotty mother—if they could see her in this palatial apartment! She flung off her heels and stepped barefoot onto the fluffy carpet. Then, sinking into the white, half-moon sofa, she surveyed her surroundings with pleasure. It almost felt as if it were hers. She put her head back and closed her eyes, feeling incredibly indulged. After a few minutes, she went into the master bedroom to search for a robe.

  Amber chose a gorgeous Fleur number in silk and lace. It felt like a warm, sultry breeze gliding over her skin. Next, she opened Daphne’s drawers and picked a white pair of Fox & Rose lace panties that made her feel like a seductress—not that she had anyone to seduce, but it felt good nonetheless. She went into the bathroom and brushed out her long hair, now even blonder from her frequent trips to the salon. It fell loosely around her shoulders, thick and shiny. Maybe not as beautiful as Daphne, but certainly younger.

  She looked over at the bed, which was covered in a downy pale-green comforter. She would sleep here tonight and pretend it was all hers, see how it felt to be Daphne. She sat on the bed and bounced a few times, and then she lay down and spread out. It was like being hugged by a thousand clouds. How lovely it would be to wake up whatever time she chose in this heavenly room and then explore the city. What could be a more perfect Friday and Saturday?

  Amber nestled a little longer. The rumbling in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She reluctantly rose and padded into the kitchen. She’d picked up a salad from the market, and she scraped it out of its container and onto one of Daphne’s china plates. She’d opened a bottle of malbec earlier and now poured herself a glass. After her dinner, she put a few jazz CDs in the player and sat with her second glass of wine, thinking about what she would do tomorrow. Maybe the Guggenheim or the Whitney. The third disc was playing when Amber heard a noise outside the apartment. She bolted to a standing position and listened. Yes. Definitely. It was the elevator. Suddenly, the doors opened and Jackson walked in.