The Last Mrs. Parrish

by Liv Constantine

  A mixture of feelings washed over me. I untangled myself from his arms and gave him a sincere smile. “I need to go. I’ll be late.”

  He pulled me back to him. “You’re the boss, remember? You don’t answer to anyone but the board.” He was on top of me then, his eyes holding mine again in that hypnotizing stare. “And the board doesn’t mind if you’re late. Please stay. I just want to hold you a little longer.”

  Everything had begun with such promise. And then, like a windshield chipped by a tiny pebble, the chip turned into deep cracks that spread until there was nothing left to repair.

  Thirty-Seven

  Dating as a means to getting to know someone is highly overrated. When your hormones are raging and the attraction is magnetic, your brain takes a vacation. He was everything I never knew I needed.

  At work, I was back in my comfort zone, though I kept flashing back to our night together with a smile. Hours later, a commotion outside my small office made me look up. A young man was pushing a cart with vase after vase of red roses. Fiona, my secretary, was behind him, her face flushed and hands waving.

  “Someone sent you flowers. Lots of flowers.”

  I stood up and signed for them. I counted a dozen vases. I put one bunch on my desk and looked around, wondering what to do with the rest. We placed them along the floor of my small office, since we had nowhere else to set them.

  Fiona shut the door when the deliveryman left and plopped down in the chair across from me. “Okay, spill.”

  I hadn’t wanted to discuss Jackson with anyone yet. I didn’t even know what we were. I reached over and pulled out the card.

  Your skin is softer than these petals. Missing you already.

  J

  They were everywhere. It was too much. The cloying smell of the flowers overwhelmed me and made my stomach roil.

  Fiona was staring at me with an exasperated expression. “Well?”

  “Jackson Parrish.”

  “I knew it!” She gave me a triumphant look. “The way he was looking at you when he stopped by to see the offices the other day, I knew it was just a matter of time.” She leaned forward, her chin in her hands. “Is it serious?”

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I like him—but I don’t know.” I gestured toward the flowers. “He comes on awfully strong.”

  “Yeah, what a jerk, sending you all these beautiful roses.” She got up and opened door.

  “Fiona?”

  “Yes?”

  “Take a couple for your desk. I don’t know what to do with the rest.”

  She shook her head. “Sure thing, Boss. But I gotta tell you, he’s not going to be so easy to cast off.”

  I needed to get back to work. I’d figure out Jackson later. I was about to make a phone call when Fiona opened the door again. Her face was ashen.

  “It’s your mother.”

  I grabbed the phone and held it to my ear. “Mom?”

  “Daphne, you need to come home. Your father’s had a heart attack.”

  “How bad is it?” I choked out.

  “Just come. As soon as you can.”

  Thirty-Eight

  The next phone call I made was to Jackson. As soon as I managed to get the words out, he took over.

  “Daphne, it’s going to be okay. Deep breaths. Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

  “But I have to get to the airport. I need to find a flight. I—”

  “I’ll take you. Don’t worry.”

  I’d forgotten he owned a plane. “Can you do that?”

  “Listen to me. Stay there. I’m leaving now to get you. We’ll go by your place and get some clothes and be in the air in about an hour. Just breathe.”

  The rest was a blur. I did what he told me, threw things in a suitcase, followed directions until I was seated on his plane, grasping his hand tightly while I looked out the window and prayed. My father was only fifty-nine—surely he couldn’t die.

  When we landed in New Hampshire at a private airport, Marvin, a waiter at the inn, was waiting for us. I guess I made the introductions, or maybe Jackson just took over. I don’t remember. All I remember is the feeling in the pit of my stomach that I might never get to talk to my father again.

  As soon as we arrived at the hospital, Jackson took charge. He found out who Dad’s doctor was, assessed the facility, and immediately had him moved to St. Gregory’s, the large hospital an hour from our small town. There is no doubt in my mind that he would have died had Jackson not seen the ineptitude of his treating doctor at County General and the lack of sophisticated equipment. Jackson arranged for a top cardio doctor from New York to meet us at the hospital. The doctor arrived shortly after we did, and upon examining my dad, declared that he hadn’t had a heart attack after all, but an aortic dissection. He explained that the lining of his heart had torn, and if he didn’t operate immediately, my father would die. Apparently his high blood pressure had been the cause. He warned us that the delay in the diagnosis had diminished his chance of survival to fifty percent.

  Jackson canceled all his meetings and never left my side. After a week, I was prepared for him to go back to Connecticut, but he had something else in mind.

  “You girls go on ahead,” he told me and my mom. “I’ve talked to your dad about it already. I’m going back to the B&B to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

  “What about your company? Don’t you need to get back?”

  “I can handle things from here for now. I’ve rearranged things a bit. A few weeks away isn’t going to kill me.”

  “Are you sure? There’s staff that can fill in for now.”

  He shook his head. “I can conduct my business from anywhere, but the B&B is a hands-on operation, and when the boss isn’t around, things slide. I intend to protect your dad’s interests until he’s moved back to the inn and your mother can keep an eye on things.”

  My mother gave me one of those looks then that said, Don’t let go of this one. She put her hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “Thank you, dear. I know Ezra will breathe easier knowing that you’re there.”

  With typical Jackson efficiency and flair, he threw himself into making sure everything ran smoothly—even better than when my father was at the helm. The kitchen was stocked, he oversaw the staff, he even made sure the bird feeders were never empty. One evening when we were short-staffed, I came back to the inn to see him waiting tables. I think that’s when I really fell for him. It was a huge load off my mother, and when she saw how easily he stepped in, she was free to spend all her time at the hospital without worrying what was going on back at the B&B.

  By the end of the month, my mother was as bewitched as I was.

  “I think you’ve found the one, sweetheart,” my mother whispered one night after Jackson had left the room.

  How had he managed to do that? I wondered. It was as though he’d been around forever, already a part of the family. All my earlier reservations about him evaporated. He wasn’t some self-indulgent playboy. He was a man of substance and character. In the space of a few short weeks, he had become indispensable to all of us.

  Thirty-Nine

  Dad was home from the hospital, still weak, but doing better, and Jackson and I were flying to New Hampshire to spend Christmas with my family. My cousin, Barry, and his wife, Erin, were coming with their daughter, and we were all excited about spending Christmas together.

  We arrived Christmas Eve to falling snow and the perfect New England setting. The inn was decked out in holiday cheer. Standing in the small church where I’d gone every Sunday from the time I was a little girl, I felt at peace, my heart overflowing. My father had survived, and I was in love. It was like a fairy tale—I’d won the prince I never even knew existed in real life. He caught me looking at him and smiled that dazzling smile at me, his cobalt-blue eyes shining with adoration, and I could hardly believe that he was mine.

  When we got back to the inn, my father opened a bottle of champagne and poured a glass for each of us. He put his arm
around my mother. “I want you all to know how much it means to have you here. A few months ago, I wasn’t so sure I’d live to see another Christmas.” He brushed a tear from his cheek and lifted his glass. “To family. Those of us here, and to our darling Julie, in heaven. Merry Christmas.”

  I took a sip, closed my eyes, and said my own silent Merry Christmas to my sister. I still missed her so much.

  We sat down on the sofas by the tree to exchange gifts. My parents had started a family tradition of giving us three gifts, symbolic of the ones the wise men gave to Jesus. Jackson had a pile of three to open as well, and I was grateful that my mother had thought to include him. The gifts were modest but special—a sweater she’d knitted him, a Beethoven CD, and a hand-painted sailboat ornament for his Christmas tree. Jackson held the fisherman’s sweater up to his chest.

  “I love it. This will keep me nice and warm.” He stood up and walked over to the tree. “My turn.” He took great delight in handing out the gifts he had selected for everyone. I had no idea what he had bought; he wanted to keep it all a surprise. I had mentioned to him that the gifts would be modest, and asked him not to go overboard. He started with my little niece, who was eight at the time. He had gotten her a lovely silver charm bracelet with Disney characters, and she was thrilled. For Barry and Erin, a Bose Bluetooth speaker, top-of-the-line. I was starting to get a little nervous thinking of the book on classic cars they had given to him and how they must feel. He took no apparent notice, but I could see from the expression on Barry’s face that he was uncomfortable.

  Jackson took something from his pocket and, kneeling in front of me, handed me a small foil-wrapped box.

  My heart began to pound. Was this really happening? My hands shook as I tore the paper. I removed the black velvet box and popped the top open.

  It was a ring. I didn’t realize how much I’d hoped it would be until just then. “Oh, Jackson. It’s beautiful.”

  “Daphne, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  My mother gasped and clapped her hands together.

  I threw my arms around him. “Yes! Yes!”

  He slipped the ring on my finger.

  “It’s gorgeous, Jackson. And so big.”

  “Nothing but the best for you. It’s a six-carat round cut. Flawless. Like you.”

  It fit perfectly. I held my hand out and turned it this way and that. My mother and Erin rushed to my side, oohing and aahing.

  My father stood apart, strangely quiet, an inscrutable expression on his face. “It’s a little fast, isn’t it?”

  The room went silent. An angry look passed quickly over Jackson’s face. Then he smiled and walked over to my father.

  “Sir, I understand your reservations. But I have loved your daughter from the moment I set eyes on her. I promise you, I will treat her like a queen. I hope you’ll give us your blessing.” He held his hand out to my father.

  Everyone was watching them. My father reached out and clasped Jackson’s hand in his.

  “Welcome to the family, son,” he said, and smiled, but I think I was the only one who noticed that the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Jackson pumped his hand and looked him straight in the eye. “Thank you.” Then, with a cat-that-swallowed-the-canary look, he pulled something from his pant pocket. “I wanted to save this until last.” He handed an envelope to my father.

  My father opened it, a frown pulling at his mouth. There was a look of confusion in his eyes as he gave it back to Jackson. He shook his head. “This is too extravagant.”

  My mother walked over. “What is it, Ezra?”

  Jackson answered. “A new roof. I know you’ve been having problems with leaks with this old one. They’ll do it in the spring.”

  “Well, that’s so thoughtful, but Ezra’s right, Jackson, it’s way too much.”

  He put his arm around me and smiled at them both. “Nonsense. I’m a part of the family now. And family takes care of each other. I absolutely won’t take no for an answer.”

  I didn’t know why they were being so stubborn. I thought it was a wonderful gesture and knew it wouldn’t put a dent in Jackson’s finances.

  “Mom, Dad, let go of that Yankee pride of yours,” I tried to tease. “It’s a wonderful gift.”

  My father looked directly at Jackson. “I appreciate it, son, but it’s not the way I do things. It’s my business, and I’ll put a new roof on when I’m good and ready. Now I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

  Jackson’s jaw clenched, and he dropped the hand from my shoulder. He deflated before my eyes, put the envelope back in his pocket, and spoke again, this time barely a whisper.

  “Now I’ve offended you when I just wanted to do something nice. Please forgive me.” His head was bent, and he raised his eyes to look at my mother, like a boy in trouble looking for reprieve. “I wanted to be a part of your family. It’s been so hard since my mother died.”

  My mother swooped over and put her arms around him. “Jackson, of course you’re part of the family.” She gave my father a disapproving look. “Family does help family. We’ll be happy to accept your gift.”

  That was the first time I saw it—that little smile that played at his lips, and the look in his eyes that read Victory.

  Forty

  Though he’d recovered from the surgery, Dad wasn’t doing well, and I didn’t know how long he really had. Part of the reason we rushed to get married was so that I could be sure he would be around to walk me down the aisle. The wedding was a small affair. My father insisted on paying for it, and despite entreaties, would not be persuaded to allow Jackson to contribute. Jackson had wanted to have a huge wedding back in Bishops Harbor and invite all his business associates. I promised Jackson that when we returned from our honeymoon, we could have a party to celebrate, and that appeased him.

  We got married in February at my family’s Presbyterian church and held the reception at the B&B. Jackson’s father flew in for the wedding, and I was a nervous wreck before meeting him. His father was bringing a date, and Jackson wasn’t happy about it. Jackson had sent his private plane for them and had a driver waiting at the airport to bring them to the inn.

  “I can’t believe he’s bringing that simpering idiot. He shouldn’t even be dating yet.”

  “Jackson, that’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

  “She’s a nothing. It’s an insult to my mother. She’s a waitress.”

  I thought of the lovely women who worked at the restaurant at the inn and felt my defenses go up. “What’s wrong with being a waitress?”

  He sighed. “Nothing, if you’re in college. She’s in her sixties. And my father has a lot of money. She’s probably latching on to him as her next meal ticket.”

  I felt a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. “How well do you know her?

  He shrugged. “I’ve only met her once. A couple of months ago when I flew to Chicago on business, we had dinner together. She was loud and not particularly bright. But she hung on his every word. My mother had a mind of her own.”

  “Are you sure you’re not just having a hard time seeing him with someone other than your mother? You’ve told me how close you were to her. I’m sure it’s not easy seeing her replaced.”

  His face turned red. “My mother is irreplaceable. That woman will never be able to hold a candle to her.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” He hadn’t shared much about his parents, beyond that his father was a workaholic who never had time for him when he was growing up. I suppose, being an only child, he had an even closer relationship with his mother. Her death the year before had hit him hard, and from what I could see, his grief was still raw. I didn’t want to dwell on the unwelcome thought racing through my head—that he was a snob. I chalked it up to angst over his mother and pushed it to the back of my mind.

  When I met Flora, I thought she was nice enough, and his father seemed happy. They were cordial to my parents, and everyone got along fine. The n
ext day, when my father walked me down the aisle, all I could think about was how lucky I was to have found the love of my life and to be starting a new life with Jackson.

  * * *

  “Don’t you think it’s time you let me in on the big secret?” I asked as we boarded his plane for our honeymoon. “I don’t even know if I packed the right clothes.”

  He leaned in and kissed me. “Silly girl. There are suitcases upon suitcases full of clothes I’ve bought for you already on board. Just leave everything to me.”

  He’d bought new clothes for me? “When did you have time to do that?”

  “Don’t you worry about it, my darling. You’ll find that I’m very good at planning ahead.”

  Once we got settled in our seats and I took a sip of my champagne, I tried again. “So when do I find out?”

  He pulled the shade to my window down. “When we land. Now lie back and relax. Maybe even get some sleep. And when you wake up, we’ll have a little fun in the clouds.” His hand moved up and down my inner thigh as he spoke, and desire spread through me like hot liquid.

  “Why don’t we have that fun right now?” I whispered as I pressed my lips against his ear.

  Jackson smiled, and when I looked into his eyes, I saw the same craving I felt. He rose and took me into his muscular arms, carrying me to the bedroom where we fell to the bed, bodies entwined. We slept afterward—I’m not sure how long, but soon after we awakened and made love again, the captain phoned Jackson to let him know we would be making our descent in a few minutes. He was careful not to name a destination, but when I peered out the window, I saw miles and miles of blue water beneath us. Wherever we were, it looked like paradise. Jackson threw off the bedcovers and came to my side by the window, putting his arm around my naked waist. “See that?” He pointed to a glorious mountain that seemed to emerge like a noble monolith out of the sea. “That’s Mount Otemanu, one of the most beautiful sights in the world. And soon I’ll show you the magnificence of Bora Bora.”