Page 20 of The Next Mrs. Parrish

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve waited until tomorrow. It won’t happen again. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m warning you, one misstep, and I’ll tell them everything. I’ve shielded them from how bad things were with you out of concern for their mental well-being. But if you get out of line…”

“I won’t. Just tell me what I need to do.”

“We need to attend family therapy sessions together, and you can’t do anything to undermine me. No matter what you say about changing, you will not have unsupervised visits with the girls.” I watch his face carefully, looking for the telltale vein that always let me know when his temper was flaring. But there’s no change of expression, no evidence of suppressed rage. The old Jackson would never have abided being spoken to this way. But now that he doesn’t have the upper hand, he has to appear to be okay with it. It makes me want to see how far I can push him. “I imagine your calendar is fairly open right now. You’ve not secured employment yet, have you?”

He laughs, a genuine laugh, amusement suffusing his face. “Still the tactful Daphne. Jailbird’s not exactly on any job requirement list right now. I’ll be figuring out how to start over on my own again. I’m completely at your disposal for therapy appointments, supervised visits, whatever.” He turns his hands palms up. “As I said. I’m just grateful for the chance to spend some time with our daughters. All on your terms.”

“Okay, then. I’ll text you the name of the therapist who’s been recommended to me. I’d like for us to meet with her before you have another visit with the girls.”

“Whatever you say.” He opens his car door and gets in then calls out to me. “Oh, by the way, I’d really like little Jax to get to know his sisters this summer. Are you okay with that?”

I immediately think of Amber and what she’ll say about this, but I don’t mention her name. “Of course. I know they’d both like that very much.”

He smiles at me. “Good night, Daph. See you soon.”

I cringe at his use of my nickname. I don’t answer, but simply turn and walk to the front door. I hear a noise and look up. Tallulah’s at the upstairs window and I realize she’s heard the entire exchange. She shakes her head, shooting me a dirty look, and slams the window shut.

– 12 –

AMBER

Amber stood at the front door waiting for Remi. The two of them planned to drive into New York, go to the jewelry presentation, and have dinner afterward. Amber had never attended a trunk show, so she had done a little reading about them beforehand. Apparently, the current trend was to do these events virtually, with goods offered and purchases completed online. The White Orchid Designs show, however, was strictly in person and was being held at the Baccarat Hotel to reveal new creations not yet for sale to the general public. The designers would be there to answer questions and, Amber assumed, proudly parade themselves before the adoring attendees.

When Remi’s Chiron pulled up, Amber threw her shoulders back and, raising her head slightly, strode to the car.

“Hi. Thanks for driving,” she said as she slid into the soft seat of the bright orange and black interior.

“Of course. I’m glad to have company.” Remi put the car in gear, and they sped off. The combination of Bugatti and Remi’s driving always gave Amber the feeling of being launched from a rocket.

As they sped along the Merritt, Remi ricocheted from lane to lane, passing anyone doing less than eighty. “How long have you been training for Le Mans?” Amber asked.

Remi’s silvery laugh filled the small space. “I am impatient, no? Am I frightening you?”

“Not at all. Impatient people don’t wait for things to happen. They make them happen.”

Remi looked briefly at Amber and then back to the road ahead. “Hmm. That is quite a philosophy you have there.”

“Well, obviously impatience must be undergirded with patience. If that makes sense.”

Remi nodded and smiled, her eyes still locked on the road, and Amber admired her profile—the straight nose and high cheekbone. As always, Remi looked perfect. Around her neck she wore a pearl choker, a perfect complement to her white silk wrap dress. Amber had chosen to wear a simple black dress, sleeveless and fitted. At the last minute she’d taken off the diamond studs and replaced them with small gold earrings, then slipped on a wide gold bangle and her wedding rings. She’d admired herself in the mirror, feeling sophisticated and chic, but somehow Amber never felt she quite measured up to Remi’s matchless style.

The hour-and-fifteen-minute drive from Bishops Harbor to Manhattan took Remi fifty-five minutes, and they pulled up to the Baccarat with time to spare. Amber saw the hotel valet’s eyes widen as Remi got out of the car and handed him the keys along with several bills. “We shouldn’t be more than two hours,” she said to him.

The two women walked through the large, crowded lobby and took the elevator to the second-floor Petit Salon. A uniformed man stood at the entrance and looked at Remi’s invitation, nodding and, with a smile, admitting them. It was not at all as Amber had pictured it. The suite looked like it was set up for an art exhibit, with sculpted stands of modern shapes and sizes spread around the space. On top of these obelisks sat one-of-a-kind pieces of jewelry, sparkling under the crisp white lights shining upon them. As they perused the displays, the room began to fill, and an undertow of excitement swelled.

Amber stopped to admire a silver necklace that was made up ofa myriad of what appeared to be tiny branches woven intricately together. “Remi, look at this. Isn’t it magnificent?”

“Mais oui. Très charmant.”

Amber stepped back and shook her head, awed by the artistry. “They’re all so beautiful. I want everything.”

“Have a glass of wine and then decide,” Remi said, as a waiter approached.

Amber took a glass of red from the tray and sipped. She was not in any way a connoisseur, but she knew that what she was tasting was fine wine. As they continued wandering around the room, Amber saw at least five pieces that she’d love to own, but the one with the branches was the one she just had to have.

“I’m going to go take another look at the necklace with the little branches,” she said to Remi.

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