The Last Mrs. Parrish(12)

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.