The Last Mrs Parrish: An addictive psychological thriller with a shocking twist!

“What about you? What do you remember?”

“Julie and I were only two years apart, so I don’t remember much about when she was a baby. But later, she was so brave. She always had a smile on her beautiful face. Never complained. She always said if someone had to have cystic fibrosis, she was glad it was her because she wouldn’t have wanted another child to suffer.” Daphne stopped and looked out at the water. “There was not one ounce of unkindness in her. She was the best person I’ve ever known.”

Amber shifted in her chair and felt a discomfort she didn’t quite understand.

Daphne went on. “The part that’s hard to think about is all she went through. Every day. All the medications she had to take.” She shook her head. “We used to get up early together, and I would talk to her while she had her vest on.”

“Yes, the vibrating contraption.” Amber remembered reading about the vest that helped dislodge mucus from the lungs.

“It became routine—the vest, the nebulizer, the inhaler. She spent more than two hours a day trying to stave off the effects of the disease. She truly believed she would go to college, marry, have children. She said she worked so hard at all her therapies and exercised because that’s what would give her a future. She believed to the very end,” Daphne said, as a single tear ran down her cheek. “I would give anything to have her back.”

“I know,” Amber whispered. “Maybe our sisters’ spirits have somehow brought us together. It sort of makes it like they’re here with us.”

Daphne blinked back more tears. “I like that idea.”

Daphne’s memories and Amber’s stories continued through the lunch, and as the waiter took their plates away, Amber felt a flash of brilliance and turned to him. “We’re celebrating two birthdays today. Would you bring us a piece of chocolate cake to share?”

The smile that Daphne bestowed on Amber was filled with warmth and gratitude.

He brought them the cake with two lighted candles, and with a flourish said, “A very happy birthday to you.”

Their lunch lasted a little over an hour, but Amber didn’t have to hurry back since Mark wasn’t due back in the office until at least three o’clock, and she had told Jenna she might be a little late.

“Well,” Daphne said when they’d finished their coffee. “I suppose I should get you back to the office. Don’t want to get you in trouble with your boss.”

Amber looked around for their waiter. “Shouldn’t we wait for the check?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Daphne said, waving her hand. “They’ll just put it on our account.”

But of course, Amber thought. It seemed the more money you had, the less you had to actually come into contact with the filthy stuff.

When they pulled up to the realty office, Daphne put the car in park and looked at Amber. “I really enjoyed today. I’ve forgotten how good it is to talk to someone who really understands.”

“I enjoyed it too, Daphne. It helped a lot.”

“I was wondering if you might be free on Friday night to have dinner with us. What do you say?”

“Gosh, I’d love to.” She was thrilled at how quickly Daphne was opening up to her.

“Good,” Daphne said. “See you on Friday. Around six o’clock?”

“Perfect. See you then. And thank you.” As Amber watched her drive away, she felt like she had just won the lottery.

EIGHT

The day after her lunch with Daphne, Amber stood behind Bunny in the Zumba class at the gym. She laughed to herself, watching Bunny trip over her feet trying to keep up with the instructor. What a klutz, she thought. After class, Amber took her time dressing behind the row of lockers next to Bunny’s in the locker room, listening to the trophy wife and her sycophants discuss her plans.

“When are you meeting him?” one asked.

“Happy hour at the Blue Pheasant. But remember, I’m with you girls tonight, if your husbands ask.”

“The Blue Pheasant? Everyone goes there. What if someone sees you?”

“I’ll say he’s a client. I do have my real estate license, after all.”

Amber heard snickering.

“What, Lydia?” Bunny snapped.

“Well, it’s not exactly like you’ve been doing much with it since you married March.”

March Nichols’s net worth of $100 million stuck in Amber’s head—that and the fact that he resembled Methuselah. Amber could understand why Bunny looked elsewhere for sex.

“We won’t be there long, anyway. I reserved a room at the Piedmont across the street.”

“Naughty, naughty. Did you book it under Mrs. Robinson?”

They were all laughing now.

Old husband, young lover—there was a certain poetry to it. Amber had what she needed, so she jumped into the shower, then rushed back to the office, excuse at the ready to explain her long absence.

Later that day, she got to the bar early and sat with her book and a glass of wine at a table near the back. As it began to fill up, she tried to guess which one he was. She’d settled on the cute blond in jeans when McDreamy walked in. With jet-black hair and bright blue eyes, he was a dead ringer for Patrick Dempsey. His camel-colored cashmere jacket and black silk scarf were meticulously sloppy. He ordered a beer and took a swig from the bottle. Bunny came in, eyes laser-focused on him, and, rushing to the bar, she flung her arms around him. Standing so close a matchbook wouldn’t have fit between them, they were obviously besotted with each other. They finished their drinks and ordered another round. McDreamy put his arm around Bunny’s waist, pulling her even closer. Bunny turned up that adorable little face to him and locked her lips against his. At that precise moment, Amber turned her iPhone to silent, raised it, and snapped several photos of their enraptured display. They finally pulled apart long enough to gulp down the second drink they’d ordered and then leave the bar arm in arm. No doubt they were not going to waste any more time at the bar when the hotel across the street beckoned.

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.

She followed Daphne until they reached a cheerful room decorated in yellows and blues. White bookcases lined the walls, and Amber lingered in front of one set, curious to see what Daphne liked to read. The shelves were lined with all the classics, in alphabetical order by author. Starting with Albee all the way to Woolf. She would bet there was no way Daphne had read them all.

“Do you like to read, Amber?”

“Very much. I’m afraid I haven’t read most of these, though. I’m more into contemporary authors. Have you read all of these?”

“Yes, many of them. Jackson likes to discuss great books. We’re only to the H’s. We’re tackling Homer’s The Odyssey. Not quite light reading.” She laughed.

A lovely porcelain turtle, as blue as the Caribbean, caught Amber’s attention and she reached out to touch it. She’d seen a few others throughout the house, each one unique and more exquisite than the last. She could tell they were all expensive, and she wanted to smash them to the floor. Here she was, struggling to make rent every month, and Daphne could throw money away collecting stupid turtles. It was so unfair. She turned away and took a seat on the silk love seat next to Daphne.

“This has been so much fun. Thanks again for having me.”

“It’s been wonderful. I enjoyed having another adult to talk to.”

“Does your husband work late a lot?” Amber asked.

Daphne shrugged. “It depends. He’s usually home for dinner. He likes the family to eat together. But he’s working on a new land deal in California, and with the time difference sometimes it can’t be helped.”

Amber went to pick up the coffee cup from the table in front of her, and her grip slipped. The cup went crashing to the floor.

“I’m so sorry—” The horrified look on Daphne’s face stopped Amber midsentence.

Daphne flew from her chair and out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a white towel and a bowl with some sort of mixture in it. She started blotting the stain with the towel, and then rubbing it with whatever concoction she had mixed up.

“Can I help?” Amber asked.

Daphne didn’t look up. “No, no. I have it. Just wanted to make sure I got to it before the stain set.”

Amber felt helpless, watching Daphne attack the stain as if her life depended on it. Wasn’t that what the help was for? She sat there, feeling like an idiot, while Daphne scrubbed furiously. Amber began to feel less bad and more annoyed. So she’d spilled something. Big deal. At least she hadn’t called anyone ugly.

Daphne stood, took a last look at the now-clean rug, and gave Amber a sheepish shrug. “Goodness. Well, can I get you a new cup?”

Was she for real? “No, that’s okay. I really should be going anyway. It’s getting late.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to go so soon.”

Normally Amber would have stayed, played things out a little longer, but she didn’t trust herself not to give her annoyance away. Besides, she could see that Daphne was still on edge. What a clean freak she was. She’d probably examine the rug with a magnifying glass once Amber left.

“Absolutely. This has been such a great evening. I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with you. I’ll see you next week at the committee meeting.”

“Drive safely,” Daphne said as she closed the door.

Amber glanced at the time on her phone. If she hurried, she could get to the library before it closed and check out a copy of The Odyssey.

TEN

By the third committee meeting, Amber was ready to execute the final stage of Operation Bye-Bye Bunny. Today she was wearing a thin wraparound sweater from the Loft over her best pair of black slacks. She dreaded seeing the other women and enduring their condescending glances and too-polite conversation. She knew she wasn’t one of them, and it infuriated her that she let it get to her. Taking a cleansing breath, she reminded herself that the only one she needed to worry about was Daphne.

Forcing a smile, she rang the bell and waited to be escorted inside.

The housekeeper opened the door in uniform.

“Missus will be down shortly. She left a paper in the conservatory for you to look at while you wait.”

Amber smiled at her. “Thanks, Margarita. By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you. The guacamole you made the other evening was divine—never had any as good. What’s your secret ingredient?”

Margarita looked pleased. “Thank you, Miss Amber. You promise not to tell?”

Amber nodded.

She leaned in and whispered, “Cumin.”

Amber hadn’t actually tasted the green goo—she hated avocados—but every woman thinks her own recipes are so special, and it was an easy way to get on someone’s good side.

The room was set up with a breakfast buffet: muffins, fruit, coffee, and tea. Grabbing a mug, Amber filled it to the brim with coffee. She had already reviewed the agenda when Daphne walked into the room, perfectly turned out as usual. Amber rose and gave her a hug. Holding up the piece of paper, she frowned and pointed at the first item. “New cochair needed? What happened to Bunny?”

Daphne sighed and shook her head. “She called me a few days ago and said she had a family emergency to deal with. Something about having to leave town to care for a sick uncle.”

Amber affected a perplexed expression. “That’s a shame. Wasn’t she supposed to have finished organizing the silent auction by today?” It was a huge job, requiring good organizational skills and attention to detail. All of the items had been secured, but Amber was quite sure that Bunny had left plenty of work that still needed to be completed, given that her world had collapsed a week ago.

“Yes, she was. Unfortunately, she just let me know yesterday that she hadn’t finished organizing all of it. Now we’re really behind the eight ball. I feel so bad asking someone to step in and take over. They’ll have to work nonstop to have everything ready in time.”

“I know I’m the newbie here, but I’ve done this sort of thing before. I would love to do it.” Amber looked down at her fingernails, then back up at Daphne. “But the other women probably wouldn’t like it.”

Daphne’s eyebrows shot up. “It doesn’t matter that you’re new. I know you’re here because your heart’s truly in it. But it’s an awful lot of work,” she said. “All the item write-ups still need to be done, the bid forms have to be matched, and the bid numbers need to be set up.”

Amber tried to keep her voice casual. “I managed one for my old boss. The best thing is to have the bid form in triplicate, three different colors, and to leave the bottom copy with the item after the auction closes and take the other two to the cashier. It eliminates confusion.”

She’d hit her mark from her Google research from the night before. Daphne looked duly impressed.

“It would make me feel like I was doing something for Charlene,” Amber continued. “I mean, I don’t have the money to make big donations, but I can offer my time.” She gave Daphne what she hoped was a pitiful look.

“Of course. Absolutely. I would be honored to have you as my cochair.”

“What about the other women? Will they be okay with it? I wouldn’t want to ruffle any feathers.”

“You let me worry about them,” Daphne said and lifted her coffee mug in salute to Amber. “Partners. For Julie and Charlene.”

Amber picked up her mug and touched it to Daphne’s.

A half hour later, after eating Daphne’s food and catching each other up on their scintillating lives, the women all finally got down to the business of the meeting. It must be nice to have all morning to fritter away like this. Once again, Amber’d had to take a vacation day to be there.

Amber held her breath as Daphne cleared her throat and addressed the room. “Unfortunately, Bunny had to resign from the committee. She’s been called out of town to care for an ailing uncle.”

“Oh, what a shame. I hope it’s not too serious,” Meredith said.

“I don’t have any other details,” Daphne said, then paused. “I was going to ask one of you to step in as cochair, but Amber has graciously offered to do it.”

Meredith looked at her, then at Daphne. “Um, that’s very generous, but do you think that’s really wise? No offense intended, but Amber just joined us. It’s a lot to get up to speed on. I’d be happy to do it.”

“The main thing left is to handle the silent auction, and Amber has experience with it,” Daphne replied in a nonchalant tone. “Plus, Amber has a very personal stake; she wants to honor her sister as well. I’m sure she would welcome your help and that of everyone on the committee.”

Amber turned her gaze from Daphne to Meredith. “I would be so appreciative of any advice you’re willing to give. Once I’ve assessed where we are, I can divvy up some assignments.” The thought of having that rich bitch reporting to her made her flush with pleasure. She didn’t miss the look of irritation on Meredith’s face and struggled to hide a smirk.

Meredith cocked an eyebrow. “Of course. We’re all happy to do our part. Bunny had planned on laying out all the items in her house and having a few of us come and help with the bid sheets and descriptions. Should we plan on coming to your house, Amber?”

Before Amber could respond, Daphne dove in to rescue her. “The items are already here. I sent for them yesterday afternoon. No sense in moving them again.”

Amber fixed her eyes on Meredith as she spoke. “I’m planning on automating the forms anyhow. It will be much more efficient for me to e-mail them to each of you with a picture of the item, and you can fill out the descriptions and send them back. Then I can have them printed and set them with the items. I’ll send everyone an e-mail tonight with the groupings, and you can let me know which you’ll write up. No need to waste time all sitting around together.”

“That’s a great idea, Amber. See, ladies? Nice to have some new blood.”

Amber leaned back into her armchair and smiled. She felt Meredith’s appraising eyes on her, and noticed once again how everything about her screamed old money, from her double strand of pearls to the slightly worn camel jacket. Minimal makeup, no particular style to her hair, quiet wristwatch and earrings. Her wedding ring, a band of sapphires and diamonds, looked like a family heirloom. Nothing ostentatious about this woman except the distinct aura of Mayflower lineage and trust funds. Her arrogance reminded Amber of Mrs. Lockwood, the richest woman in the town where she grew up, who would bring her cashmere sweaters, wool suits, and formal gowns into the dry cleaner’s every Monday morning, putting them gingerly on the counter as if she couldn’t bear for her sacred garments to touch the clothes of the underclass. She never greeted Amber and never responded to a hello with anything but a forced, sour smile that looked as if she’d smelled something rotten.

The Lockwood family lived in a huge home at the top of a hill overlooking the town. Amber had met Frances, their only daughter, at a county fair, and the two had become fast friends. The first time Frances took Amber to her home, Amber had been awestruck at its size and magnificent furnishings. Frances’s bedroom was a young girl’s dream, all pink and white and frilly. Her dolls—so many!—were lined up neatly on built-in shelves, and on one long wall stood a case filled with books and trophies. Amber remembered feeling like she never wanted to leave that bedroom. But the friendship had been short-lived. After all, Amber was not the sort Mrs. Lockwood wanted as a friend for her precious daughter. As quickly as the two girls had connected, the cord was severed by Frances’s imperious mother. It had stuck in Amber’s craw ever since, but she’d found a way to get even when she met Matthew, Frances’s handsome older brother. Mrs. Lockwood hadn’t known what hit her.

And now, here she was, confronting the same condescension from Meredith Stanton. So far, though, it was Amber one, Meredith nothing.

“Amber.” Daphne’s voice startled her from her reverie. “I’d like to get a picture for a little advance publicity. Let’s have you and the rest of the auction committee with some of the items. I’m sure the Harbor Times will publish it with a blurb about the fundraiser.”

Amber couldn’t move. A picture? For the newspaper? She couldn’t let that happen. She had to think quickly. “Um.” She paused a moment. “Gee, Daphne, I’m so new to the group. I don’t think it’s fair for me to be in the photo. It should include members who have worked on this longer than I have.”

“That’s very gracious of you, but you are the cochair now,” Daphne said.

“I’d really feel more comfortable if other people’s accomplishments were highlighted.” Looking around, Amber realized she’d scored points for humility. It was a win-win. She could maintain the rank of poor but sweet and unassuming little waif to these privileged snobs. And most importantly, no ghosts from the past would come sniffing around. She just needed to keep a low profile for now.