Page 45 of The Last Mrs. Parrish

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.

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.

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