Page 14 of The Next Mrs. Parrish

“Oh pooh.” Bunny held up her glass and looked at March. “I’m all empty. Honey, would you be a dear and get me a little drink?”

The moment he walked away, she took Amber’s arm in hers. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all day,” she said breathlessly.

“What is it?”

“Well, I was at the club yesterday and I ran into Lesley Fielding. I’d just finished a game of tennis and she was playing doubles on the court next to me. She’s a good friend of Melinda Monahan’s. I was going to head right to the locker room, but then I decided to wait until—”

Amber suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “Get to the point, Bunny.”

“Right. The Monahans are in Europe for the summer and they’re renting out their fabulous house on the Sound. You know the one.”

“So what?”

“So, a friend of Meredith’s is renting it for the entire summer. It’s someone from California. And the way Lesley spoke, it sounded like it’s a woman. Without a husband. And with children.” Bunny stopped speaking and gave Amber a long look. “I think it’s Daphne.”

“Daphne? Why on earth would she rent a house in Bishops Harbor?” Amber feigned ignorance.

Bunny shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask Jackson.”

Amber simply nodded. She was well aware of Daphne’s return to Bishops Harbor. Sweet Daphne was going to be very sorry that she’d decided to come back. But Amber couldn’t have cared less about what awaited Daphne. Once Amber helped Jackson execute his plan against Daphne, Amber would be long gone.

– 8 –

DAISY ANN

Daisy Ann checked her watch and saw that they were ten minutes early as their car passed through the open gates and around the circular driveway to her in-laws’ home. A valet stood waiting to take their keys and park the Suburban while another one opened her door.

“Thank you,” she said to him and stepped out of the vehicle.

She looked up at the enormous house as she, Mason, and the boys walked up the steps to the columned portico and front doors. The Briscoes’ home was twice as large and twice as formal as Mason’s and hers. It boasted three stories of cream-colored walls, furniture, and terrazzo tile, and Daisy Ann had often wondered how Birdie had raised three rambunctious boys in the elegant and pristine surroundings. She had to admit, though, that her own sons always loved coming here. With its game room, screening room, outdoor playhouseandtreehouse, and plenty of toys and games to keep them busy, Tucker and Greyson were in heaven, and Birdie was guaranteed that children would spend little time on silk-covered furnishings. The boys each had their own bedroom for when they visited, which was not a problem in a house with nine of them to go around. The property was situated on three acres that accommodated tennis courts and the oversize in-ground pool and cabanas.

“Ah, my sweethearts,” Birdie said, giving each of them a hug and kiss.

When Birdie leaned close to her, Daisy Ann breathed in the heady scent of her mother-in-law’s signature perfume, Grand Soir. Birdie’s blond hair was teased and set to a perfect bob—she had it done at the “beauty shop” twice a week. Her makeup was understated and perfectly applied and on her lips her signature Dior Rouge. Her slim figure, kept that way by a strict diet protocol from which she rarely wavered, was clad in a multicolored pastel Chanel halter dress of flowing silk. In fact, Birdie wore almost nothing but Chanel and had for as long as Daisy Ann had known her.

“You’re the first ones here.” Birdie took Daisy Ann’s hand. “You look just beautiful,” she said, and turned to Tucker and Greyson. “And you boys look mighty handsome.” Her brow furrowed, and she took one of Tucker’s hands in her own.

“Tucker, honey, your nails! They need a good scrubbing. Go into the kitchen and find Freida. She’ll help you.”

He groaned. “Aw, come on, Mimi, I wanna go see the carnival rides you got.”

She gave him a stern look. “Now mind your manners, there’s plenty of time for that. “You know what they say, cleanliness is next to godliness. Now scoot.”

He gave Daisy Ann a beseeching look, but even though she found Birdie over the top at times, she shook her head and said, “Mind your mimi and do what she told you.”

Greyson held his hands up for inspection. “How are my hands, Mimi?”

Birdie smiled. “Like a real gentleman’s.”

He beamed and gave his brother a slight snicker.

Mason took his mother in his arms, kissing her. “Happy birthday, Mother.”

“Thank you, dear.” Birdie smiled and patted his cheek, then fluffed her hair on the side he’d pressed against. “Now come, all of you, and see what my fabulous caterer has done.”

It was the perfect house for entertaining, with lots of intimate seating areas and large rooms that flowed easily into one another.Tonight, the entire first floor was decorated with white and gold balloons, hundreds of gold candles flickering luminously, and opulent bunches of gold and white flowers. A large, curved projection screen played a loop of photographs of Birdie with family and friends through the years.

Birdie Briscoe was something of an icon in Dallas society. Her family went way back. Her great-great-grandfather had arrived in Texas in the early 1800s and begun buying up land—she still had the original Spanish land grant from 1825. By the time Birdie came along, the family had already made millions from the extensive stands of timber that grew on the vast amount of acreage. Her husband, Chandler, Mason’s father, had family roots that were not quite as deep as Birdie’s. Chandler’s great-grandfather founded the land development firm of Briscoe, Dixon, and Hart, and all the ensuing progeny had worked for the firm. Until Mason that is. He became a lawyer and left the company.

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