The Last Mrs. Parrish

One

Amber Patterson was tired of being invisible. She’d been coming to this gym every day for three months — three long months of watching these women of leisure working at the only thing they cared about. They were so self-absorbed; she would have bet her last dollar that not one of them would recognize her on the street even though she was five feet away from them every single day. She was a fixture to them — unimportant, not worthy of being noticed. But she didn’t care — not about any of them. There was one reason and one reason alone that she dragged herself here every day, to this machine, at the precise stroke of eight.

She was sick to death of the routine — day after day, working her ass off, waiting for the moment to make her move. From the corner of her eye, she saw the signature gold Nikes step onto the machine next to her. Amber straightened her shoulders and pretended to be immersed in the magazine strategically placed on the rack of her own machine. She turned and gave the exquisite blond woman a shy smile, which garnered a polite nod in her direction. Amber reached for her water bottle, deliberately moving her foot to the edge of the machine, and slipped, knocking the magazine to the floor, where it landed beneath the pedal of her neighbor’s equipment.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she said, reddening.

Before she could step off, the woman stopped her pedaling and retrieved it for her. Amber watched the woman’s brow knit together.

“You’re reading is magazine?” the woman said, handing it back to her.

“Yes, it’s the Cystic Fibrosis Trust’s magazine. Comes out twice a year. Do you know it?”

“I do, yes. Are you in the medical field?” the woman asked.

Amber cast her eyes to the floor, then back at the woman. “No, I’m not. My younger sister had CF.” She let the words sit in the space between them.

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me. It’s none of my business,” the woman said, and stepped back onto the elliptical.

Amber shook her head. “No, it’s okay. Do you know someone with cystic fibrosis?”

There was pain in the woman’s eyes as she stared back at Amber. “My sister. I lost her twenty years ago.”

“I’m so sorry. How old was she?”

“Only sixteen. We were two years apart.”

“Charlene was just fourteen.” Slowing her pace, Amber wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. It took a lot of acting skills to cry about a sister who never existed. The three sisters she did have were alive and well, although she hadn’t spoken to them for two years.

The woman’s machine ground to a halt. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Amber sniffed and shrugged. “It’s still so hard, even after all these years.”

The woman gave her a long look, as if trying to make a decision, then extended her hand.

“I’m Daphne Parrish. What do you say we get out of here and have a nice chat over a cup of coffee?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt your workout.”

Daphne nodded. “Yes, I’d really like to talk with you.”

Amber gave her what she hoped looked like a grateful smile and stepped down. “That sounds great.” Taking her hand, she said, “I’m Amber Patterson. Pleasure to meet you.”

Later that evening Amber lay in a bubble bath, sipping a glass of merlot and staring at the photo in Entrepreneur magazine. Smiling, she put it down, closed her eyes, and rested her head on the edge of the tub. She was feeling very satisfied about how well things had gone that day. She’d been prepared for it to drag out even longer, but Daphne made it easy for her. After they dispensed with the small talk over coffee, they’d gotten down to the real reason she’d elicited Daphne’s interest.

“It’s impossible for someone who hasn’t experienced CF to understand,” Daphne said, her blue eyes alive with passion. “Julie was never a burden to me, but in high school my friends were always pushing me to leave her behind, not let her tag along. They didn’t understand that I never knew when she’d be hospitalized or if she’d even make it out again. Every moment was precious.”

Amber leaned forward and did her best to look interested while she calculated the total worth of the diamonds on Daphne’s ears, the tennis bracelet on her wrist, and the huge diamond on her tanned and perfectly manicured finger. She must have had at least a hundred grand walking around on her size-four body, and all she could do was whine about her sad childhood. Amber suppressed a yawn and gave Daphne a tight smile.

“I know. I used to stay home from school to be with my sister so that my mom could go to work. She almost lost her job from taking so much time off, and the last thing we could afford was for her to lose our health insurance.” She was pleased with how easily the lie came to her lips.

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Daphne clucked. “That’s another reason my foundation is so important to me. We provide financial assistance to families who aren’t able to afford the care they need. It’s been a big part of the mission of Julie’s Smile for as long as I can remember.”

Amber feigned shock. “Julie’s Smile is your foundation? It’s the same Julie? I know all about Julie’s Smile, been reading about all you do for years. I’m so in awe.”

Daphne nodded. “I started it right after grad school. In fact, my husband was my first benefactor.” Here she’d smiled, perhaps a bit embarrassed. “That’s how we met.”

“Aren’t you preparing for a big fund-raiser right now?”

“As a matter of fact we are. It’s a few months away, but still lots to do. Say… oh, never mind.”

“No, what?” Amber pressed.

“Well, I was just going to see if maybe you’d like to help. It would be nice to have someone who understands—”

“I’d love to help in any way,” Amber interrupted. “I don’t make a lot of money, but I definitely have time to donate. What you’re doing is so important. When I think of the difference it makes—” She bit her lip and blinked back tears.

Daphne smiled. “Wonderful.” She pulled out a card engraved with her name and address. “Here you are. Committee is meeting at my house Thursday morning at ten. Can you make it?”

Amber had given her a wide smile, still trying to look as though the disease was first in her mind. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Two

The rocking rhythm of the Saturday train from Bishops Harbor to New York lulled Amber into a soothing reverie far removed from the rigid discipline of her workday week. She sat by the window, resting her head against the seat back, occasionally opening her eyes to glance at the passing scenery. She thought back to the first time she’d ridden on a train, when she was seven years old. It was July in Missouri — the hottest, muggiest month of the summer — and the train’s air-conditioning had been on the blink. She could still picture her mother sitting across from her in a long-sleeved black dress, unsmiling, back erect, her knees squeezed together primly. Her light brown hair had been pulled back in its customary bun, but she had worn a pair of earrings — small pearl studs that she saved for special occasions. And Amber supposed the funeral of her mother’s mother counted as a special occasion.

When they’d gotten off the train at the grubby station in Warrensburg, the air outside was even more suffocating than the inside of the train had been. Uncle Frank, her mother’s brother, had been there to meet them, and they piled uncomfortably into his battered blue pickup truck. The smell is what she remembered most — a mixture of sweat and dirt and damp — and the cracked leather of the seat digging into her skin. They rode past endless fields of corn and small farmsteads with tired-looking wooden houses and yards filled with rusted machinery, old cars on cinder blocks, tires with no rims, and broken metal crates. It was even more depressing than where they lived, and Amber wished she’d been left at home, like her sisters. Her mother said they were too young for a funeral, but Amber was old enough to pay her respects. She’d blocked out most of that horrendous weekend, but the one thing she would never forget was the appalling shabbiness surrounding her — the drab living room of her grandparents’ home, all browns and rusty yellows; her grandfather’s stubby growth of beard as he sat in his overstuffed recliner, stern and dour in a worn undershirt and stained khaki pants. She saw the origin of her mother’s cheerless demeanor and poverty of imagination. It was then, at that tender age, that the dream of something different and better was born in Amber.

Opening her eyes now as the man opposite her rose, jostling her with his briefcase, she realized they’d arrived at Grand Central Terminal. She quickly gathered her handbag and jacket and stepped into the streaming mass of disembarking passengers. She never tired of the walk from the tracks into the magnificent main concourse — what a contrast to the dingy train depot of all those years ago. She took her time strolling past the shiny storefronts of the station, a perfect precursor to the sights and sounds of the city waiting outside, then exited the building and walked the few short blocks along Forty-Second Street to Fifth Avenue. This monthly pilgrimage had become so familiar that she could have done it blindfolded.

Her first stop was always the main reading room of the New York Public Library. She would sit at one of the long reading tables as the sun poured in through the tall windows and drink in the beauty of the ceiling frescoes. Today she felt especially comforted by the books that climbed the walls. They were a reminder that any knowledge she desired was hers for the asking. Here, she would sit and read and discover all the things that would give shape to her plans. She sat, still and silent, for twenty minutes, until she was ready to return to the street and begin the walk up Fifth Avenue.

She walked slowly but with purpose past the luxury stores that lined the street. Past Versace, Fendi, Armani, Louis Vuitton, Harry Winston, Tiffany & Co., Gucci, Prada, and Cartier — they went on and on, one after another of the world’s most prestigious and expensive boutiques. She had been in each of them, inhaled the aroma of supple leather and the scent of exotic perfumes, rubbed into her skin the velvety balms and costly ointments that sat tantalizingly in ornate testers.

She continued past Dior and Chanel and stopped to admire a slender gown of silver and black that clung to the mannequin in the window. She stared at the dress, picturing herself in it, her hair piled high on her head, her makeup perfect, entering a ballroom on her husband’s arm, the envy of every woman she passed. She continued north until she came to Bergdorf Goodman and the timeless Plaza Hotel. She was tempted to climb the red-carpeted steps to the grand lobby, but it was well past one o’clock, and she was feeling hungry. She’d carried a small lunch from home, since there was no way she could afford to spend her hard-earned money on both the museum and lunch in Manhattan. She crossed Fifty-Eighth Street to Central Park, sat on a bench facing the busy street, and unpacked a small apple and a baggie filled with raisins and nuts from her sack. She ate slowly as she watched people hurrying about and thought for the hundredth time how grateful she was to have escaped the dreary existence of her parents, the mundane conversations, the predictability of it all. Her mother had never understood Amber’s ambitions. She said she was trying to get too far above herself, that her kind of thinking would only land her in trouble. And then Amber had shown her and finally left it all — though maybe not the way she’d planned.

She finished her lunch and walked through the park to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where she would spend the afternoon before catching an early-evening train back to Connecticut. Over the past two years she had walked every inch of the Met, studying the art and sitting in on lectures and films about the works and their creators. At first her vast lack of knowledge had been daunting, but in her methodical way, she took it step-by-step, reading from borrowed books all she could about art, its history, and its masters. Armed with new information each month, she would visit the museum again and see in person what she had read about. She knew now that she could engage in a respectably intelligent conversation with all but the most informed art critic. Since the day she’d left that crowded house in Missouri, she’d been creating a new and improved Amber, one who would move at ease among the very wealthy. And so far, her plan was right on schedule.

After some time, she strolled to the gallery that was usually her last stop. There, she stood for a long time in front of a small study by Tintoretto. She wasn’t sure how many times she had stared at this sketch, but the credit line was engraved on her brain—“A gift from the collection of Jackson and Daphne Parrish.” She reluctantly turned away and headed to the new Aelbert Cuyp exhibition. She’d read through the only book about Cuyp that the Bishops Harbor library had on its shelves. Cuyp was an artist she’d never heard of and she’d been surprised to learn how prolific and famous he was. She strolled through the exhibit and came upon the painting she’d so admired in the book and had hoped would be a part of the exhibit, The Maas at Dordrecht in a Storm. It was even more magnificent than she’d thought it would be.

An older couple stood near her, mesmerized by it as well.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” the woman said to Amber.

“More than I’d even imagined,” she answered.

“This one is very different from his landscapes,” the man offered.

Amber continued to stare at the painting as she said, “It is, but he painted many majestic views of Dutch harbors. Did you know that he also painted biblical scenes and portraits?”

“Really? I had no idea.”

Perhaps you should read before you come to see an exhibit, Amber thought, but simply smiled at them and moved on. She loved it when she could display her superior knowledge. And she believed that a man like Jackson Parrish, a man who prided himself on his cultural aesthetic, would love it too.

Three

A bilious envy stuck in Amber’s throat as the graceful house on Long Island Sound came into view. The open white gates at the entrance to the multimillion-dollar estate gave way to lush greenery and rosebushes that spilled extravagantly over discreet fencing, while the mansion itself was a rambling two-story structure of white and gray. It reminded her of pictures she’d seen of the wealthy summer homes in Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard. The house meandered majestically along the shoreline, superbly at home on the water’s edge.

This was the kind of home that was safely hidden from the eyes of those who could not afford to live this way. That’s what wealth does for you, she thought. It gives you the means and the power to remain concealed from the world if you choose to — or if you need to.

Amber parked her ten-year-old blue Toyota Corolla, which would look ridiculously out of place among the late-model Mercedes and BMWs that she was sure would soon dot the courtyard. She closed her eyes and sat for a moment, taking slow, deep breaths and going over in her head the information she’d memorized over the last few weeks. She’d dressed carefully this morning, her straight brown hair held back from her face with a tortoiseshell headband and her makeup minimal — just the tiniest hint of blush on her cheeks and slightly tinted balm on her lips. She wore a neatly pressed beige twill skirt with a long-sleeved white cotton T-shirt, both of which she’d ordered from an L.L.Bean catalog. Her sandals were sturdy and plain, good no-nonsense walking shoes without any touch of femininity. The ugly large-framed glasses she’d found at the last minute completed the look she was after. When she took one last glimpse in the mirror before leaving her apartment, she’d been pleased. She looked plain, even mousy. Someone who would never in a million years be a threat to anyone — especially not someone like Daphne Parrish.

Though she knew she ran a slight risk of appearing rude, Amber had shown up just a little early. She’d be able to have some time alone with Daphne and would also be there before any of the other women arrived, always an edge when introductions were made. They would see her as young and nondescript, simply a worker bee Daphne had deigned to reach down and anoint as a helper in her charity efforts.

She opened the car door and stepped onto the crushed stone driveway. It looked as if each piece of gravel cushioning her steps had been measured for uniformity and purity, and perfectly raked and polished. As she neared the house, she took her time studying the grounds and dwelling. She realized she would be entering through the back — the front would, of course, face the water — but it was, nevertheless, a most gracious facade. To her left stood a white arbor bedecked with the summer’s last wisteria, and two long benches sat just beyond it. Amber had read about this kind of wealth, had seen countless pictures in magazines and online tours of the homes of movie stars and the superrich. But this was the first time she’d actually seen it up close.

She climbed the wide stone steps to the landing and rang the bell. The door was oversize, with large panes of beveled glass, allowing Amber a view down the long corridor that ran to the front of the house. She could see the dazzling blue of the water from where she stood, and then, suddenly, Daphne was there, holding the door open and smiling at her.

“How lovely to see you. I’m so glad you could come,” she said, taking Amber’s hand in hers and leading her inside.

Amber gave her the timid smile she’d practiced in front of her bathroom mirror. “Thank you for inviting me, Daphne. I’m really excited to help.”

“Well, I’m thrilled you’ll be working with us. Come this way. We’ll be meeting in the conservatory,” Daphne said as they came into a large octagonal room with floor-to-ceiling windows and summery chintzes that exploded with vibrant color. The French doors stood open, and Amber breathed in the intoxicating smell of salty sea air.

“Please, have a seat. We have a few minutes before the others arrive,” Daphne said.

Amber sank into the plush sofa, and Daphne sat down across from her in one of the yellow armchairs that perfectly complemented the other furnishings in this room of nonchalant elegance. It irked her, this ease with wealth and privilege that Daphne exuded, as though it were her birthright. She could have stepped out of Town & Country in her perfectly tailored gray slacks and silk blouse, her only jewelry the large pearl studs she wore in her ears. Her lustrous blond hair fell in loose waves that framed her aristocratic face. Amber guessed the clothes and earrings alone were worth over three grand, forget the rock on her finger or the Cartier Tank. She probably had a dozen more in a jewelry box upstairs. Amber checked the time on her own watch — an inexpensive department-store model — and saw that they still had about ten minutes alone.

“Thanks again for letting me help, Daphne.”

“I’m the one who’s grateful. There are never too many hands. I mean, all of the women are terrific and they work hard, but you understand because you’ve been there.” Daphne shifted in her chair. “We talked a lot about our sisters the other morning, but not much about ourselves. I know you’re not from around here, but do I remember you telling me you were born in Nebraska?”

Amber had rehearsed her story carefully. “Yes, that’s right. I’m originally from Nebraska, but I left after my sister died. My good high school friend went to college here. When she came home for my sister’s funeral, she said maybe it would be good for me to have a change, make a fresh start, and we’d have each other, of course. She was right. It’s helped me so much. I’ve been in Bishops Harbor for almost a year, but I think about Charlene every day.”

Daphne was looking at her intently. “I’m sorry for your loss. No one who hasn’t experienced it can know how painful it is to lose a sibling. I think about Julie every day. Sometimes it’s overwhelming. That’s why my work with cystic fibrosis is so important to me. I’m blessed to have two healthy daughters, but there are still so many families afflicted by this terrible disease.”

Amber picked up a silver frame with a photograph of two little girls. Both blond and tanned, they wore matching bathing suits and sat cross-legged on a pier, their arms around each other. “Are these your daughters?”

Daphne glanced at the picture and smiled with delight, pointing. “Yes, that’s Tallulah and this is Bella. That was taken last summer, at the lake.”

“They’re adorable. How old are they?”

“Tallulah’s ten, and Bella’s seven. I’m glad they have each other,” Daphne said, her eyes growing misty. “I pray they always will.”

Amber remembered reading that actors think of the saddest thing they can to help them cry on cue. She was trying to summon a memory to make her cry, but the saddest thing she could come up with was that she wasn’t the one sitting in Daphne’s chair, the mistress of this incredible house. Still, she did her best to look downcast as she put the photograph back on the table.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Daphne rose to answer it. As she left the room, she said, “Help yourself to coffee or tea. And there are some goodies too. Everything’s on the sideboard.”

Amber got up but put her handbag on the chair next to Daphne’s, marking it as hers. As she was pouring a cup of coffee, the others began filing in amid excited hellos and hugs. She hated the clucking sounds groups of women made, like a bunch of cackling hens.

“Hey, everyone.” Daphne’s voice rose above the chatter, and they quieted down. She went to Amber and put her arm around her. “I want to introduce a new committee member, Amber Patterson. Amber will be a wonderful addition to our group. Sadly, she’s a bit of an expert — her sister died of cystic fibrosis.”

Amber cast her eyes to the floor, and there was a collective murmur of sympathy from the women.

“Why don’t we all have a seat, and we’ll go around the room so that you can introduce yourselves to Amber,” Daphne said. Cup and saucer in hand, she sat down, looked at the photo of her daughters, and, Amber noticed, moved it just slightly. Amber looked around the circle as, one after another, each woman smiled and said her name — Lois, Bunny, Faith, Meredith, Irene, and Neve. All of them were shined and polished, but two in particular caught Amber’s attention. No more than a size two, Bunny had long, straight blond hair and large green eyes made up to show their maximum gorgeousness. She was perfect in every way, and she knew it. Amber had seen her at the gym in her tiny shorts and sports bra, working out like mad, but Bunny looked at her blankly, as if she’d never laid eyes on her before. Amber wanted to remind her, Oh, yes. I know you. You’re the one who brags about screwing around on your husband to your girl posse.

And then there was Meredith, who didn’t at all fit in with the rest of them. Her clothing was expensive but subdued, not like the flashy garb of the other women. She wore small gold earrings and a single strand of yellowed pearls against her brown sweater. The length of her tweed skirt was awkward, neither long nor short enough to be fashionable. As the meeting progressed, it became apparent that she was different in more ways than appearance. She sat erect in her chair, shoulders back and head held high, with an imposing bearing of wealth and breeding. And when she spoke, there was just the hint of a boarding-school accent, enough to make her words sound so much more insightful than the others’ as they discussed the silent auction and the prizes secured so far. Exotic vacations, diamond jewelry, vintage wines — the list went on and on, each item more expensive than the last.

As the meeting came to a close, Meredith walked over and sat beside Amber. “Welcome to Julie’s Smile, Amber. I’m very sorry about your sister.”

“Thank you,” Amber said simply.

“Have you and Daphne known each other a long time?”

“Oh, no. We just met, actually. At the gym.”

“How serendipitous,” Meredith said, her tone hard to read. She was staring at Amber, and it felt as if she could see right through her.

“It was a lucky day for both of us.”

“Yes, I should say.” Meredith paused and looked Amber up and down. Her lips spread into a thin smile, and she rose from the chair. “It was lovely to meet you. I look forward to getting to know you better.”

Amber sensed danger, not in the words Meredith had spoken but from something in her manner. Maybe she was just imagining it. She put her empty coffee cup back on the sideboard and walked through the French doors that seemed to invite her onto the deck. Outside she stood looking at the vast expanse of Long Island Sound. In the distance she spotted a sailboat, its sails billowing in the wind, a magnificent spectacle. She walked to the other end of the deck, where she had a better view of the sandy beach below. When she turned to go back inside, she heard Meredith’s unmistakable voice coming from the conservatory.

“Honestly, Daphne, how well do you know this girl? You met her at the gym? Do you know anything about her background?”

Amber stood silently at the edge of the door.

“Meredith, really. All I needed to know was that her sister died of CF. What more do you want? She has a vested interest in raising money for the foundation.”

“Have you checked her out?” Meredith asked, her tone still skeptical. “You know, her family, education, all those things?”

“This is volunteer work, not a Supreme Court nomination. I want her on the committee. You’ll see. She’ll be a wonderful asset.”

Amber could hear the irritation in Daphne’s voice.

“All right, it’s your committee. I won’t bring it up again.”

Amber could hear footsteps on the tile floor as they left the room, and she stepped in and quickly pushed her portfolio under a pillow on the sofa, so it would look like she’d forgotten it. In it were her notes from the meeting and a photograph, tucked into one of the pockets. The lack of any other identifying information would ensure that Daphne would have to root around to find the photo. Amber was thirteen in the picture. That had been a good day, one of the few her mother had been able to leave the cleaner’s and take them to the park. She was pushing her little sister on the swings. On the back, Amber had written “Amber and Charlene,” even though it was a picture of her with her sister Trudy.

Meredith was going to be tricky. She’d said she was looking forward to getting to know Amber better. Well, Amber was going to make sure she knew as little as possible. She wasn’t going to let some society snob screw with her. She’d made sure that the last person who tried that got what was coming to her.

Four

Amber opened the bottle of Josh she’d been saving. It was pathetic that she had to ration a twelve-dollar cabernet, but her measly salary at the real estate office barely covered the rent here. Before moving to Connecticut, she’d done her research and chosen her target, Jackson Parrish, and that’s how she ended up in Bishops Harbor. Sure, she could have rented in a neighboring town for much less, but living here meant she had many opportunities to accidentally run into Daphne Parrish, plus access to all the fabulous town amenities. And she loved being so close to New York.

A smile spread across Amber’s face. She thought back to the time she’d researched Jackson Parrish, googling his name for hours after she read an article on the international development company he’d founded. Her breath had caught when his picture filled the screen. With thick black hair, full lips, and cobalt-blue eyes, he could have easily been on the big screen. She’d clicked on an interview in Forbes magazine that featured him and how he built his Fortune 500 company. The next link — an article in Vanity Fair—wrote about his marriage to the beautiful Daphne, ten years younger than he. Amber had gazed at the picture of their two adorable children, taken on the beach in front of a gray-and-white clapboard mansion. She’d looked up everything she could about the Parrishes, and when she read about Julie’s Smile, the foundation founded by Daphne and dedicated to raising money for cystic fibrosis, the idea came to her. The first step in the plan that developed in her mind was to move to Bishops Harbor.

When she thought back to the small-time marriage she’d tried to engineer back in Missouri, it made her want to laugh. That had ended very badly, but she wouldn’t make the same mistakes this time.

Now she picked up her wineglass and lifted it in salute to her reflection in the microwave oven. “To Amber.” Taking a long sip, she rested the glass on the counter.

Opening her laptop, she typed “Meredith Stanton Connecticut” into the search bar and the page filled up with link after link about Meredith’s personal and philanthropic efforts. Meredith Bell Stanton was a daughter of the Bell family, who raised Thoroughbred racehorses. According to the articles, riding was her passion. She rode horses, showed horses, hunted, jumped, and did anything else you could do with horses. Amber wasn’t surprised. Meredith had “horsewoman” written all over her.

Amber stared at a photograph of Meredith and her husband, Randolph H. Stanton III, at a charity event in New York. She decided old Randolph looked like he had a yardstick up his ass. But she guessed banking was a pretty dry business. The only good thing about it was the money, and it looked like the Stantons had piles of it.

Next, she searched for Bunny Nichols, but didn’t find as much. The fourth wife of March Nichols, a prominent New York attorney with a reputation for ruthlessness, Bunny looked eerily similar to the second and third wives. Amber guessed that blond party girls were interchangeable to him. One article described Bunny as a “former model.” That was a laugh. She looked more like a former stripper.

She took a last sip from her glass, corked the bottle, and logged onto Facebook under one of her fake profiles. She pulled up the one profile that she checked every night, scanning for new photos and any status updates. Her eyes narrowed at a picture of a little boy holding a lunch box in one hand and that rich bitch’s hand in the other—“First day at St. Andrew’s Academy” and the insipid comment “Mommy’s not ready,” with a sad-face emoji. St. Andrew’s, the school back home she had yearned to attend. She wanted to type her own comment: Mommy and Daddy are lying skanks. But instead she slammed the laptop shut.

Five

Amber looked at the ringing phone and smiled. Seeing “private” on the caller ID, she figured it was Daphne. She let it go to voice mail. Daphne left a message. The next day, Daphne called again, and again Amber ignored it. Obviously, Daphne had found the portfolio. When the phone rang again that night, Amber finally answered.

“Hello?” she whispered.

“Amber?”

A sigh, and then a quiet “Yes?”

“It’s Daphne. Are you okay? I’ve been trying to reach you.”

She made a choking sound, then spoke, louder this time. “Hi, Daphne. Yeah, sorry. It’s been a rough day.”

“What is it? Has something happened?” Amber could hear the concern in Daphne’s voice.

“It’s the anniversary.”

“Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry. Would you like to come over? Jackson’s out of town. We could open a bottle of wine.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. The children are sleeping, and I’ve got one of the nannies if they should need anything.”

Of course one of the nannies is there. God forbid she should have to do anything for herself. “Oh, Daphne, that would be so great. Can I bring anything?”

“No, just yourself. See you soon.”

When Amber pulled up to the house, she got out her phone and texted Daphne: I’m here. Didn’t want to ring and wake the girls.

The door opened, and Daphne motioned her in. “How thoughtful of you to text first.”

“Thanks for having me over.” Amber handed her a bottle of red wine.

Daphne hugged her. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t have.”

Amber shrugged. It was a cheap merlot, eight bucks at the liquor store. She knew Daphne would never drink it.

“Come on.” Daphne led her into the sunroom, where there was already a bottle of wine open and two half-filled glasses on the coffee table.

“Have you had dinner?”

Amber shook her head. “No, but I’m not really hungry.” She sat, picked up a wineglass, and took a small sip. “This is very nice.”

Daphne sat down, picked up her own glass, and held it up.

“Here’s to our sisters who live on in our hearts.”

Amber touched her glass to Daphne’s and took another swallow. She brushed a nonexistent tear from her eye.

“I’m so sorry. You must think I’m a basket case.”

Daphne shook her head. “Of course not. It’s okay. You can talk about it to me. Tell me about her.”

Amber paused. “Charlene was my best friend. We shared a room, and we’d talk late into the night about what we were going to do when we grew up and got out of that house.” She frowned and took another long sip of her wine. “Our mother used to throw a shoe at the door if she thought we were up too late. We’d whisper so she wouldn’t hear us. We’d tell each other everything. All our dreams, our hopes…”

Daphne kept quiet while Amber continued, but her beautiful blue eyes filled with compassion.

“She was golden. Everybody loved her, but it didn’t go to her head, you know? Some kids, they would have become bratty, but not Char. She was beautiful, on the inside and out. People would just stare at her when we were out, that’s how gorgeous she was.” Amber hesitated and cocked her head. “Sort of like you.”

A nervous laugh escaped from Daphne’s lips. “I would hardly say that about myself.”

Yeah, right, Amber thought. “Beautiful women take it for granted. They can’t see what everyone else does. My parents used to joke that she got the beauty, and I got the brains.”

“How cruel. That’s terrible, Amber. You are a beautiful person — inside and out.”

It was almost too easy, Amber thought — get a bad haircut, leave off the makeup, don a pair of eyeglasses, slouch your shoulders, and voilà! Poor homely girl was born. Daphne needed to save someone, and Amber was happy to oblige. She smiled at Daphne.

“You’re just saying that. It’s okay. Not everyone has to be beautiful.” She picked up a photo of Tallulah and Bella, this one in a cloth frame. “Your daughters are gorgeous too.”

Daphne’s face lit up. “They’re great kids. I’m extremely blessed.”

Amber continued to study the photograph. Tallulah looked like a little adult with her serious expression and hideous glasses, while Bella, with her blond curls and blue eyes, looked like a little princess. There was going to be a lot of rivalry in their future, Amber thought. She wondered how many boyfriends Bella would steal from her plain older sister when they were teenagers.

“Do you have a picture of Julie?”

“Of course.” Daphne got up and retrieved a photograph from the console table. “Here she is,” she said, handing the frame to Amber.

Amber stared at the young woman, who must have been around fifteen when the picture was taken. She was beautiful in an almost otherworldly way, her big brown eyes bright and shining.

“She’s lovely,” Amber said, looking up at Daphne. “It doesn’t get any easier, does it?”

“No, not really. Some days it’s even harder.”

They finished the bottle of wine and opened another while Amber listened to more stories of Daphne’s tragic fairy-tale relationship with her perfect dead sister. Amber threw a full glass down the sink when she went to the bathroom. As she returned to the living room, she added a little wobble to her walk, and said to Daphne, “I should get going.”

Daphne shook her head. “You shouldn’t drive. You should stay here tonight.”

“No, no. I don’t want to put you out.”

“No arguments. Come on. I’ll take you to a guest room.”

Daphne put an arm around Amber’s waist and led her through the obscenely large house and up the long staircase to the second floor.

“I think I’m going to need the bathroom.” Amber made the words sound urgent.

“Of course.” Daphne helped her in, and Amber shut the door and sat down on the toilet. The bathroom was enormous and elaborate, with a Jacuzzi tub and shower big enough to accommodate the entire royal family. Her studio apartment would have practically fit inside it. When she opened the door, Daphne was waiting.

“Are you feeling any better?” Daphne’s voice was filled with concern.

“Still a bit dizzy. Would it be all right if I did lie down for a minute?”

“Of course,” Daphne said, guiding her down the long hallway to a guest room.

Amber’s keen eye took it all in — the fresh white tulips that looked beautiful against the mint-green walls. Who had fresh flowers in a guest room when they weren’t even expecting guests? The shiny wood floor was partially covered with a thick white flokati rug that added another touch of elegance and luxury. Billowy gauze curtains seemed to float down from the tall windows.

Daphne helped her to the bed, where Amber sat and ran her hand over the embroidered duvet cover. She could get used to this. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she didn’t need to pretend that she felt the dizzying sensation of impending slumber. She saw movement and opened her eyes to see Daphne standing over her.

“You’re going to sleep here. I insist,” Daphne said, and, walking to the closet, opened the door and took out a nightgown and robe. “Here, take your things off and put on this nightgown. I’ll wait out in the hallway while you change.”

Amber peeled off her sweater and threw it on the bed, and stepped out of her jeans. She slipped into the silky white nightgown and crawled under the covers. “All set,” she called out.

Daphne came back in and put a hand on her forehead. “You poor dear. Rest.”

Amber felt a cover being tucked around her.

“I’ll be in my room, just down the hall.”

Amber opened her eyes and reached out to grab Daphne’s arm. “Please don’t go. Can you stay with me like my sister used to?”

She saw the briefest hesitation in Daphne’s eyes before she went over to the other side of the bed and lay next to Amber.

“Sure, sweetie. I’ll stay until you fall asleep. Just rest. I’m right here if you need anything.”

Amber smiled. All she needed from Daphne was everything.

Six

Amber flipped through the pages of Vogue as she sat listening to the whiny client on the other end of the phone continuing to bitch about the $5 million house that had been sold out from under her. She hated Mondays, the day she was asked to sit in for the receptionist at lunchtime. Her boss had promised her she’d be free of it as soon as the new hire began in another month.

She’d started as a secretary in the residential division of Rollins Realty when she first moved to Bishops Harbor, and she’d hated every minute of it. Almost all of the clients were spoiled women and arrogant men, all with a hugely elevated sense of entitlement. The kind of people who never slowed their expensive cars at a four-way stop because they believed they always had the right-of-way. She’d set appointments, call them with updates, set up appraisal and inspection appointments, and still they barely acknowledged her. She did notice that they were only a little more courteous to the agents, but their lack of manners still infuriated her.

She used that first year to take evening classes in commercial real estate. She checked books out of the library on the subject and read voraciously on weekends, sometimes forgetting to eat lunch or dinner. When she felt ready, she went to the head of the commercial side of Rollins, Mark Jansen, to discuss her thoughts on a potential opportunity regarding a zoning change vote she’d read about in the paper and what a successful vote could mean for one of their clients. He was blown away by her knowledge and understanding of the market, and started stopping by her desk occasionally to chat about his side of the business. Within a few months she was sitting right outside his office, working closely with him. Between her reading and his tutelage, her knowledge and expertise increased. And to Amber’s good fortune, Mark was a great boss, a devoted family man who treated her with respect and kindness. She was right where she had planned to be from the start. It had just taken time and determination, but determination was one thing Amber had in spades.

She looked up as Jenna, the receptionist, walked in with a crumpled McDonald’s bag and a soda in her hands. No wonder she was so fat, Amber thought in disgust. How could people have so little self-control?

“Hey, girlie, thanks so much for covering. Did everything go okay?” Jenna’s smile made her face even more moonlike than normal.

Amber bristled. Girlie? “Just some moron who’s upset because someone else bought her house.”

“Oh, that was probably Mrs. Worth. She’s so disappointed. I feel bad for her.”

“Don’t waste your tears. Now she can cry on her husband’s shoulder and get the eight-million-dollar house instead.”

“Oh, Amber. You’re so funny.”

Amber shook her head in puzzlement at Jenna and walked away.

Later that night, as she sat soaking in the tub, she thought about the last two years. She’d been ready to leave it all far behind — the dry-cleaning chemicals that burned her eyes and nose, the filth from soiled clothing that clung to her hands, and the big plan that had gone awry. Just when she thought she’d finally grabbed the brass ring, everything had come crashing down. There was no question of her hanging around. When she left Missouri, she’d made sure that anyone looking for her wouldn’t find even a trace to follow.

The water was turning cooler now. Amber rose and wrapped herself in a thin terry-cloth robe as she stepped out of the bath. There’d been no old school friend to invite her to Connecticut. She’d rented the tiny furnished apartment just days after she arrived in Bishops Harbor. The dingy white walls were bare, and the floor was covered with an old-fashioned pea-green shag that had probably been there since the 1980s. The only seating was an upholstered love seat with worn arms and sagging pillows. A plastic table sat at the end of the small sofa. There was nothing on the table, not even a lamp, the single lightbulb with its fringed shade hanging from the low ceiling being the only illumination in the room. It was hardly more than a place to sleep and hang her hat, but it was only a placeholder until her plan was complete. In the end, it would all be worth it.

She quickly dried off, threw on pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt, and then sat at the small desk in front of the only window in the apartment. She pulled out her file on Nebraska and read over it once again. Daphne hadn’t asked her any more questions about her childhood, but still, it never hurt to refresh. Nebraska had been her first stop after leaving her hometown in Missouri, and it was where her luck had begun to change. She bet she knew more about Eustis, Nebraska, and its Wurst Tag sausage festival than even the oldest living resident. She scanned the pages, then put the folder back and picked up the book on international real estate she’d gotten from the library on her way home that night. It was heavy enough to make a good doorstop, and she knew it was going to take some very long nights and lots of concentration to get through it.

She smiled. Even if her place was small and cramped, she had spent so many nights longing for a room of her own when she and her three sisters were packed in the attic her father had turned into a bunkhouse of sorts. No matter how hard she’d tried, the room was always a mess, with her sisters’ clothes, shoes, and books strewn all over. It made her crazy. Amber needed order — disciplined, structured order. And now, finally, she was the master of her world. And of her fate.

Seven

Amber dressed carefully that Monday morning. She had quite accidentally run into Daphne and her daughters at the town library late yesterday afternoon. They’d stopped to chat, and Daphne had introduced her to Tallulah and Bella. She had been struck by their differences. Tallulah, tall and thin with glasses and a plain face, appeared quiet and withdrawn. Bella, on the other hand, was an adorable little sprite, her golden curls bouncing as she cavorted around the shelves. Both girls had been polite but uninterested, and had leafed through their books as the two women spoke. Amber had noticed that Daphne didn’t seem her usual cheery self. “Is everything all right?” she said, putting her hand gently on Daphne’s arm. Daphne’s eyes had filled. “Just some memories I can’t shake today. That’s all.”

Amber had gone on full alert. “Memories?”

“Tomorrow is Julie’s birthday. I can’t stop thinking about her.” She ran her fingers through Bella’s curly hair, and the child looked up at her and smiled.

“Tomorrow? The twenty-first?” Amber said.

“Yes, tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe it. It’s Charlene’s birthday, too!” Amber silently berated herself, hoping she hadn’t overplayed her hand, but as soon as she saw the look on Daphne’s face, she knew she’d struck just the right chord.

“Oh my gosh, Amber. That’s unbelievable. I’m beginning to feel like the heavens have brought us together.”

“It does seem like it’s meant to be,” Amber had said, then paused for a few seconds. “We should do something tomorrow to celebrate our sisters, to remember the good things and not dwell on the sadness. How about if I pack us some sandwiches, and we can have lunch at my office? There’s a small picnic bench on the side of the building near the stream.”

“What a good idea,” Daphne had said, more animated then. “But why should you go to the trouble of packing a lunch? I’ll pick you up at your office, and we’ll go to the country club. Would you like that?”

That was precisely what Amber had been hoping Daphne would suggest, but she hadn’t wanted to seem too eager. “Are you sure? It really isn’t any trouble. I pack lunch every day.”

“Of course I’m sure. What time shall I pick you up?”

“I can usually duck out around twelve thirty.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then,” Daphne had said, and shifted the pile of books in her arms. “We’ll make it a happy celebration.”

Now Amber studied herself in the mirror one last time — white boat-neck T-shirt and her one nice pair of navy slacks. She’d tried on the sturdy sandals but exchanged them for white ones. She wore faux pearl studs in her ears and, on her right hand, a ring with a small sapphire set in gold. Her hair was pulled back with the usual headband, and her only makeup was a very light pink lip balm. Satisfied that she looked subdued but not too frumpy, she grabbed her keys and left for work.

By ten, Amber had checked the clock at least fifty times. The minutes dragged unbearably as she tried to concentrate on the new shopping center contract in front of her. She reread the final four pages, making notes as she went along. Ever since she’d found an error that could have cost the company a bundle, her boss, Mark, didn’t sign anything until Amber had reviewed it.

Today was Amber’s day to cover the phones for Jenna, but Jenna had agreed to stay so that Amber could go out for lunch.

“Who are you having lunch with?” Jenna asked.

“You don’t know her. Daphne Parrish,” she answered, feeling important.

“Oh, Mrs. Parrish. I’ve met her. A couple years ago, with her mother. They came in together ’cause her mom was going to move here to be closer to the family. She looked at tons of places, but she ended up staying in New Hampshire. She was a real nice lady.”

Amber’s ears perked up. “Really? What was her name? Do you remember?”

Jenna looked up at the ceiling. “Lemme see.” She was quiet a moment and then nodded her head and looked back at Amber. “I remember. Her name was Ruth Bennett. She’s a widow.”

“She lives alone?” Amber said.

“Well, sort of, I guess. She owns a B&B in New Hampshire, so she’s not really alone. Right? But on the other hand, they’re all pretty much strangers, so she kind of does live alone. Maybe you could say she lives semi-alone, or only alone at night when she goes to bed,” Jenna prattled on. “Before she left, she brought a real nice basket of goodies to the office to thank me for being so nice. It was really sweet. But kinda sad too. It seemed like she really wanted to move here.”

“Why didn’t she?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Mrs. Parrish didn’t want her that close.”

“Did she say that?” Amber probed.

“Not really. It just seemed like she wasn’t too excited about her mom being so close by. I guess she didn’t really need her around. You know, she had her nannies and stuff. One of my friends was her nanny when her first daughter was a baby.”

Amber felt like she’d struck gold. “Really? How long did she work there?”

“A couple years, I think.”

“Is she a good friend of yours?”

“Sally? Yeah, me and her go way back.”

“I bet she has some stories to tell,” Amber said.

“What do you mean?”

Is this girl for real? “You know, things about the family, what they’re like, what they do at home — that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, I guess. But I wasn’t really interested. We had other stuff to talk about.”

“Maybe the three of us could have dinner next week.”

“Hey, that would be great.”

“Why don’t you call her tomorrow and set it up? What’s her name again?” Amber asked.

“Sally. Sally MacAteer.”

“And she lives here in Bishops Harbor?”

“She lives right next door to me, so I see her all the time. We grew up together. I’ll ask her about dinner. This’ll be really fun. Like the three musketeers.” Jenna skipped back to her desk, and Amber went back to work.

She picked up the contract and put it on the desk in Mark’s empty office so they could discuss it that afternoon when he got back from his appointment in Norwalk. She looked at her watch and saw that she had twenty minutes to finish and freshen up before Daphne’s arrival. She returned two phone calls, filed a few loose papers, and then went to the bathroom to check her hair. Satisfied, she went to the front lobby to watch for Daphne’s Range Rover.

It pulled up at exactly twelve thirty, Amber noticed, appreciating Daphne’s promptness. As Amber pushed open the glass door of the building, Daphne rolled the car window down and called out a cheerful hello. Amber walked to the passenger side, opened the door, and hoisted herself into the cool interior.

“It’s great to see you,” Amber said with what she hoped sounded like enthusiasm.

Daphne looked over at her and smiled before putting the car into gear. “I’ve been looking forward to this all morning. I couldn’t wait for my garden club meeting to be over. I know it’s going to make the day so much easier to get through.”

“I hope so,” Amber said, her voice subdued.

They were both quiet for the next few blocks, and Amber leaned back against the soft leather seat. She turned her head slightly in Daphne’s direction and took in her white linen pants and sleeveless white linen top, which had a wide navy stripe at the bottom. She wore small gold hoops and a simple gold bangle bracelet next to her watch. And her ring, of course, the rock that could have sunk the Titanic. Her slender arms were nicely tanned. She looked fit, healthy, and rich.

As they pulled into the driveway of the Tidewater Country Club, Amber drank it all in — the gently winding road with precision-cut grass on either side, not a weed in sight; tennis courts with players in sparkling whites; the swimming pools in the distance; and the impressive building looming before them. It was even grander than she had imagined. They drove around the circle to the main entrance, and were met by a young guy in a casual uniform of dark khakis and a green polo shirt. On his head was a white visor with the Tidewater logo embroidered in green.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Parrish,” he said as he opened her door.

“Hello, Danny,” Daphne said and handed him the keys. “We’re just here for lunch.”

He walked around to open Amber’s door, but she had already stepped out.

“Well, enjoy,” he said, and got into the car.

“He’s such a nice young man,” Daphne said as she and Amber walked up the wide stairs into the building. “His mother used to work for Jackson, but she’s been very ill the last few years. Danny takes care of her and is also working to put himself through college.”

Amber wondered what he thought about all the money he saw thrown around at this club while he nursed a sick mother and worked to make ends meet, but she bit her tongue.

Daphne suggested they eat on the deck, and so the maître d’ led them outside, where Amber breathed in the bracing sea air she loved so much. They were seated at a table overlooking the marina, its three long piers filled with boats of all shapes and sizes bobbing up and down in the choppy waters.

“Wow, this is just beautiful,” Amber said.

“Yes, it is. A nice setting to remember all the wonderful things about Charlene and Julie.”

“My sister would have loved it here,” Amber said, and meant it. None of her perfectly healthy sisters would have even been able to imagine a place like this. She tore her gaze away from the water and turned to Daphne. “You must come here a lot with your family.”

“We do. Jackson, of course, heads right for the golf course whenever he can. Tallulah and Bella take all kinds of lessons — sailing, swimming, tennis. They’re quite the little athletes.”

Amber wondered what it would be like to grow up in this kind of world, where you were groomed from infancy to have and enjoy all the good things in life. Where you made friends almost from birth with the right people and were educated in the best schools, and the blinds were tightly drawn against outsiders. She was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness and envy.

The waiter brought two tall glasses of iced tea and took their lunch order — a small salad for Daphne and ahi tuna for Amber.

“Now,” Daphne said, as they waited. “Tell me a good memory about your sister.”

“Hmm. Well, I remember when she was just a few months old, my mom and I took her for a walk. I would have been six. It was a beautiful, sunny day and Mom let me push the carriage. Of course she was right next to me, just in case.” Amber warmed to her subject, embellishing the story as she continued. “But I remember feeling so grown-up and so happy to have this new little sister. She was so pretty, with her blue eyes and yellow curls. Just like a picture. And I think from that day on, I sort of felt like she was my little girl too.”

“That’s really lovely, Amber.”

“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.

Eleven

The next morning Jenna came dancing into Amber’s office, her smile so wide that her cheeks practically obscured her squinty little eyes. “Guess what?” she demanded breathlessly.

“No clue,” Amber said flatly, not even bothering to look up from the commission reports she was working on.

“I talked to Sally last night.”

Amber’s head shot up, and she put her pen down.

“She said she’d like to come to dinner with us. Tonight.”

“That’s great, Jenna.” For the first time, Amber was thankful for Jenna’s doggedness. She had pestered Amber from her first day on the job, and every time Amber refused her invitations, she had bounced back up like a Punchinello toy and asked her again, until finally Amber relented. Jenna had gotten what she wanted, and now it was all about to pay off for Amber too.

“What time, and do we have a place in mind?”

“Well, we could do Friendly’s. Or Red Lobster. Tonight they’re having all the shrimp you can eat.”

Amber pictured Jenna sitting across from her, cocktail sauce dripping down her chin as she devoured all those little pink shrimp. She didn’t think she could stomach that. “Let’s go to the Main Street Grille,” she said. “I’m free right after work.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Sally to meet us around five thirty. This is going to be so much fun,” Jenna squealed, clapping her hands together and prancing out of the office.

When Amber and Jenna arrived at the Grille, they were seated in a booth near the back of the restaurant, with Jenna facing the door so she would see Sally when she arrived. Jenna began yammering away about a new client who had come in today looking for properties in the $5 million range and how nice and friendly she was, then suddenly stopped and waved her hand. “Here’s Sally,” she said and stood up.

As Sally approached the table, Amber knew her surprise registered on her face. This woman was not at all what she’d expected.

“Hi, Jenna.” The newcomer gave Jenna a hug and then turned to Amber. “You must be Amber, the one Jenna is always talking about.” She smiled, reached a slender arm across the table, and shook Amber’s hand. Sally wore fitted jeans and a long-sleeved white T-shirt that showed off her trim figure, tanned skin, and luxuriant brown hair. As she took the seat next to Jenna, Amber was struck by her eyes, so dark they were almost black, with thick, long eyelashes.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sally,” Amber said. “I’m glad you could make it tonight.”

“Jenna and I have been promising to get together for ages, but we’ve been so busy with work that we haven’t had time. I’m glad we finally made it happen.” Amber wondered what these two could possibly have in common besides living on the same street.

“I’m starving. Do you two know what you want?” Jenna said.

Sally picked up her menu and quickly scanned it.

“The grilled salmon with spinach sounds good,” Amber said, and Jenna wrinkled her nose.

“Yes, I think I’ll have the same.” Sally put down the menu.

“Yuck. How can you choose salmon instead of a hot turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes and gravy? That’s what I’m getting. And no spinach.”

The waitress took their orders, and Amber ordered a bottle of the house red. She wanted everyone relaxed and loose-tongued tonight.

“Here,” she said, and poured the wine into their glasses. “Let’s sit back and enjoy. So tell me, Sally, where do you work?”

“I’m a special education teacher at a private school, St. Gregory’s in Greenwich.”

“That’s great. Jenna told me that you had been a nanny. You must love kids.”

“Oh, I do.”

“How many years did you nanny?”

“Six years. I only worked for two families. The last one was here in town.”

“Who was that?” Amber asked.

“Geez, Amber, did you forget? The day you had lunch with Mrs. Parrish, I told you Sally used to work for her,” Jenna said.

Amber gave her a hate-filled look. “Yes, I did forget.” She turned back to Sally. “What was it like — working there, I mean?”

“I loved it. And Mr. and Mrs. Parrish were great to work for.”

Amber wasn’t interested in a fairy tale of how perfect the Parrish family was. She decided to take another tack. “Nannying must be a tough job at times. What were the hardest parts, do you think?”

“Hmm. When Tallulah was born, it was sort of tiring. She was small — only weighed five pounds at birth — so she had to eat every two hours. Of course the nurse took the night feedings, but I would get there at seven in the morning and stay till she came back at night.”

“So the nurse fed her through the night? Mrs. Parrish didn’t nurse the baby?”

“No, it was sad, really. Mr. Parrish told me she tried at first, but her milk wouldn’t come in. He asked me not to say anything because it made her cry, so we never talked about it.” Sally took a forkful of salmon. “I sometimes wondered about it.”

“What do you mean?”

Amber detected discomfort in Sally, who seemed to be trying for nonchalance. “Oh, nothing, really.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” Amber pressed.

“Well, I guess I’m not telling you something everybody doesn’t already know.”

Amber leaned in closer and waited.

“A while after Tallulah was born, Mrs. Parrish went away. To a sort of hospital where you rest and get help.”

“You mean a sanitarium?”

“Something like that.”

“Did she have postpartum depression?”

“I’m really not sure. There was a lot of gossip at the time, but I tried not to listen to it. I don’t know. There were police involved somehow. I remember that. There were rumors that she was a danger to the baby, that she shouldn’t be alone with her.”

Amber tried to hide her fascination. “Was she? A danger?”

Sally shook her head. “I had a hard time believing that. But I never really saw her again. Mr. Parrish let me go right before she came home. He said they wanted someone to speak French to Tallulah, and I had been thinking about going back to school full-time anyhow. Later, they did end up hiring my friend Surrey for the weekends. She never mentioned anything strange.”

Amber was wondering what had happened to make Daphne require hospitalization. Her mind was miles away when she realized Sally was still talking.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?” Amber asked her.

“It was Mrs. Parrish who encouraged me to continue and get my master’s degree. She said the most important thing was for a woman to be independent and know what she wanted. Especially before she considers marriage.” Sally took a sip of her wine. “Good advice, I think.”

“I suppose. But she was pretty young when she married Mr. Parrish, wasn’t she?”

Sally smiled. “In her twenties. It seems like they have a perfect marriage, so I guess it was a good decision.”

What a load of crap, Amber thought as she divided the last of the wine between their glasses. “Jenna told me that Mrs. Parrish’s mother was thinking about moving here at one time. Did you ever meet her?”

“I met her a few times. She didn’t visit that often. She mentioned that she ran a B&B up north, but it still seemed odd that she wasn’t there more, you know, to see the baby and all.”

“Do you know why she decided not to move to Bishops Harbor?”

“I’m not sure exactly, but she seemed put off by all the help the Parrishes had. Maybe she thought she’d be in the way,” Sally said, then sipped her wine. “You know, Mrs. Parrish has an extremely well ordered and tightly scheduled life. Precision is a hallmark in her house — nothing out of place, every room spotless, and every item perfectly placed. Maybe it was a little too regimented for Mrs. Bennett.”

“Wow, it sure sounds like it.” Amber had not failed to notice the very same thing every time she visited Daphne, which was more and more often lately. The house looked as if no one lived in it. The moment you finished drinking from a glass or emptied your plate, it was whisked away and disappeared. There was never a misplaced thing, which was hard to achieve with two young kids around. Even the girls’ bedrooms were immaculate. Amber had looked into the rooms the morning after she’d spent the night and was astounded at the meticulous placement of books and toys. Nothing was out of order.

As she drank more wine, Sally seemed to be warming to her subject. “I heard from Surrey that Tallulah and Bella never get to watch cartoons or kid shows. They have to watch documentaries or educational DVDs.” She waved her hand. “I mean, not that that’s bad, but it is sad that they can’t watch anything just for fun or entertainment.”

“I guess Mrs. Parrish values education,” Amber said.

Sally looked at her watch. “Speaking of which, I really should get going. School in the morning.” She turned to Jenna. “If you’re ready to go, I can give you a ride home.”

“That’d be good.” Jenna clapped her hands together. “What a fun night it’s been. We should do this again.”

They settled the check, and Jenna and Sally left. Amber finished her wine and sat back in her seat, reviewing the nuggets of information she’d gathered.

When she got home, the first thing she did was look up Daphne’s mother. After a bit of searching, she found that Ruth Bennett owned and ran a B&B in New Hampshire. It was a quaint inn with lovely grounds. Nothing extravagant, but very nice nonetheless. The picture of her on the website showed her to be an older, not quite as beautiful version of her daughter. Amber wondered what it was between them, why Daphne’d been reluctant to have her mother move near her.

She bookmarked the page and then logged onto Facebook. There he was, looking older and fatter. Guess the last few years hadn’t been so good for him. She laughed and shut the lid of her laptop.

Twelve

Waiting on the platform, Amber sipped the hot coffee in her gloved hand, trying to stay warm. White vapor escaped from her mouth every time she opened it, and she marched in place to generate some heat. She was meeting Daphne, Tallulah, and Bella for a day of shopping and sightseeing in New York, the primary attraction being the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. She had purposely dressed like a tourist: sensible shoes, warm down jacket, and a tote bag to hold her treasures. Just what a gal from Nebraska would wear. The only makeup she had on was a cheap frosted lipstick she’d picked up at Walgreens.

“Amber, hi,” Daphne called as she came running toward her, a little girl attached to each hand. “Sorry we’re late. This one couldn’t decide what to wear.” She tilted her head toward Bella with a smile.

Amber smiled. “Hi, girls. Nice to see you again.”

Bella eyed her suspiciously. “That’s an ugly coat.”

“Bella!” Daphne and Tallulah exclaimed in unison. Daphne looked mortified. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“I’m so sorry, Amber,” Daphne said.

“It’s okay.” Amber squatted down until she was eye level with Bella. “You’re right. It is an ugly coat. I’ve had it forever. Maybe you can help me pick a new one out today.” She wanted to smack the little brat. She was all of six or seven, and she was wearing a pair of silver sneakers that Amber recognized from a package that had been sitting open on the kitchen table when she’d dropped off gift certificates for the auction at the house the other day. She’d gone home and looked up the shoes to discover that they cost almost $300. The spoiled kid was already a fashion snob.

Bella turned to her mother and whined, “When is the train coming? I’m cold.”

Daphne wrapped her arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “Soon, darling.”

After another five minutes of Bella’s complaints, the train pulled in and they scrambled aboard, luckily finding a vacant spot in the front of the car — two rows facing each other. Amber sat down, and Bella stood in front of her, little arms crossed over her chest.

“You took my seat. I can’t sit backward.”

“No problem.” Amber moved to the other side and Tallulah took the seat next to Bella.

“I want Mommy to sit next to me.”

Were they really going to let this little monster bark orders all day?

Daphne gave her a stern look. “Bella, I’m right across from you. Stop this nonsense now. I’m going to sit next to Amber.”

Bella gave her a dark look and kicked her little foot against the seat across from her. “Why’d she have to come, anyway? This is supposed to be a family trip.”

Daphne stood up. “Excuse us for a moment.” She grabbed Bella by the hand and walked her to the end of the aisle. Amber could see her gesturing with her hands as she talked. After a few minutes, Bella nodded and the two returned.

Bella took her seat and looked up at Amber. “I’m sorry, Amber.”

She didn’t look one bit sorry, but Amber gave her what she hoped was a kind look.

“Thank you, Bella. I accept your apology.” She turned her attention to Tallulah. “Your mom tells me that you’re a Nancy Drew fan.”

Tallulah’s eyes lit up, and she unzipped the small backpack she carried and brought out The Secret of the Wooden Lady. “I have all my mom’s old books. I love them.”

“So do I. I wanted to be just like Nancy Drew,” Amber said.

Tallulah started to soften. “She’s so brave and smart and always on an adventure.”

“Boooooring,” the little furby next to her called out.

“How would you know? You can’t even read,” Tallulah responded.

“Mom! She’s not supposed to say that to me,” Bella said, her voice rising.

“All right, girls, that’s enough,” Daphne said mildly.

Now Amber felt like slapping Daphne. Couldn’t she see that kid needed to be put in her place? A good spank across the rump would probably do wonders.

They finally pulled into Grand Central and poured out of the train into the crowded station. Amber stayed behind Daphne as she and the girls walked up the steps and into the main terminal. Her spirits lifted as she looked around at the magnificent architecture and thought again how much she loved New York.

Daphne stopped and gathered them together. “Okay, here’s what’s on our agenda. We’re going to start by looking at all the holiday window displays, then lunch at Alice’s Teacup, then American Girl Store, and finally ice-skating at Rockefeller Center.”

Kill me now, Amber thought.

Amber had to admit that the window displays were fabulous, each one more elaborate than the next. Even the little princess was bewitched and stopped her whining. When they arrived at Alice’s Teacup, Amber groaned inwardly at the long line, but apparently Daphne was well known there, and they were whisked right in. Lunch was fine, no major incidents, and Amber and Daphne actually got to have a conversation longer than five minutes.

While the girls took their time eating their French toast, Amber finished her ham and cheese croissant and sipped her tea.

“Thanks again for including me, Daphne. It’s so nice to be a part of a family day this time of year.”

“Thank you. You’re making the day so much more fun for me. When Jackson bailed out, I almost canceled.” She leaned in and whispered, “As you’ve seen, Bella can be a little bit of a handful. It’s great to have some help.”

Amber felt her back go up. Was that what she was? Help?

“Wasn’t the nanny available today?” she couldn’t resist asking.

Daphne didn’t seem to notice the jab. She shook her head absently. “I’d already given her the day off since we had planned this.” She smiled brightly at Amber and squeezed her hand. “I’m so glad you came with us. This is the kind of thing I’d be doing with my sister if she were alive. Now I have a special friend to enjoy it with.”

“That’s funny. When we were looking at the beautiful animations in the store windows, I imagined how much Charlene would have loved it. Christmas was her favorite time of year.” In fact, Amber’s childhood Christmases had been mean and disappointing. But if Charlene had existed, she might have liked Christmas.

“Julie loved Christmas too. I’ve never told this to anyone, but very late on Christmas Eve each year, I write a letter to Julie.”

“What do you tell her?” Amber asked.

“All that’s happened in the last year, you know, like those Christmas letters that people send out. But these letters are different. I tell her what’s in my heart and all about her nieces — how much she would have loved them and they her. It keeps me connected to her in a way I can’t explain.”

Amber felt a brief stab of sympathy that quickly turned to envy. She had never felt that kind of love and affection for anyone in her family. She wondered what that would be like. She didn’t know quite what to say.

“Can we go to American Girl now?” Bella was standing, pulling on her coat, and Amber was grateful for the intrusion.

They left the restaurant and grabbed a cab. Amber sat in front with the driver. The inside of the car smelled of old cheese, and she wanted to gag, but as soon as she rolled the window down, Queen Bella piped up from the backseat.

“I’m cold.”

Amber gritted her teeth and put it back up.

When they arrived at Forty-Ninth and Fifth, the line going into the store went all the way around the block.

“The line is so long,” Tallulah said. “Do we really have to wait?”

Bella stomped her foot. “I need a new dress for my Bella doll. Can’t you get us in ahead of them, Mommy? Like you did at the restaurant?”

Daphne shook her head. “Afraid not, sweetie.” She gave Tallulah a beseeching look. “I did promise her.”

Tallulah looked like she wanted to cry.

Amber had an inspiration. “Say, I noticed we passed a Barnes & Noble just a few blocks back. Why don’t I take Tallulah there, and you and Bella can meet us when you finish?”

Tallulah’s eyes lit up. “Can we, Mom? Please?”

“Are you sure, Amber?” Daphne asked.

Was she ever. “Of course. This way, they’re both happy.”

“Super. Thanks, Amber.”

As she and Tallulah began to walk away, Daphne called out. “Amber, please stay with her in the store.”

She bit back a sarcastic retort. Like she’d really let the kid wander in Manhattan on her own. “I won’t take my eyes off her.”

As they headed south on Fifth Avenue, Amber seized the opportunity to get to know Tallulah better.

“You’re not into American Girl dolls?”

“Not enough to stand in line for hours. I’d much rather look at books.”

“What kinds of things do you like?”

She shrugged. “Well, books. And I like to take pictures, but with old cameras and film.”

“Really? Why not digital?”

“The resolution is better, and I’ve found that…”

Amber tuned out the rest of her explanation. She didn’t care. All she needed to know was what she liked, not the three paragraphs of science behind it. Tallulah was like a little professor masquerading as a kid. Amber wondered if she had any friends at all.

“Here we are.”

She followed Tallulah around the enormous store until they reached the mystery section, and she pulled out an armful of books. They found a cozy place to sit, and Amber grabbed a few books off the shelves as well. She noticed Tallulah holding a collection of Edgar Allan Poe stories.

“Did you know Edgar Allan Poe was an orphan?” Amber asked.

Tallulah looked up. “What?”

Amber nodded. “Yes, his parents died when he was four. He was raised by a wealthy merchant.”

Tallulah’s eyes widened.

“Sadly, his new parents cut him out of their will, and he ended up very poor. Maybe he wasn’t as nice to them as he was to his real parents.” Amber smiled inwardly at Tallulah’s shocked expression. It was a good lesson for the kid to keep in mind.

They spent the next two hours reading, Tallulah lost in her Poe book, ignoring Amber, Amber looking through a book on Formula One racing. She’d read that Jackson was an avid fan. When she’d had enough of that, she opened the Facebook app on her phone. Rage overcame her when she read the update. So, the bitch was pregnant. How could that have happened? The three of them smiling like idiots. Who was stupid enough to announce a pregnancy at only eight weeks? Amber consoled herself with the thought that maybe she’d miscarry. She heard someone approach and looked up to see Daphne, laden with shopping bags, rushing toward them.

“There you are!” Daphne was out of breath, and Bella’s hand was in hers as she ran to keep up with her mother. “Jackson just called. He’s going to meet us after all. We’ll grab a cab and meet him at SixtyFive. We’ll have dinner and then see the tree.” She smiled.

“Wait,” Amber said, grabbing the arm of Daphne’s coat. “I don’t want to intrude on your family time.” In truth, she was surprised at how nervous she was at the prospect of meeting Jackson. The suddenness threw her off balance. She wanted advance warning, time to ready herself to meet the man she knew so much about.

“Don’t be silly,” Daphne gushed. “You won’t be intruding. Now come on. He’s waiting for us.”

Tallulah got up immediately, putting all the books into a pile and picking them up.

Daphne waved her hand. “Leave them, sweetie. We need to get going.”

Thirteen

He was waiting at the best table in the place. Its view was even more stunning than Amber had imagined. So was he, for that matter. The sex appeal practically oozed out of him. Drop-dead gorgeous. There was no other way to say it. And the impeccably tailored custom suit made him look like he’d just stepped off the set of a Bond movie. He stood as they approached, and when his dazzling blue eyes rested on Daphne, his smile widened, and he greeted her with a warm kiss on the lips. He was crazy about her, Amber realized with frustration. He crouched down, opening his arms, and the girls ran into them.

“Daddy!” Bella grinned, looking happy for the first time all day.

“My girls. Did you have a great day with Mommy?”

They both started chattering at once, and Daphne ushered them into their seats while she took the one next to Jackson. Amber sat in the remaining seat, across from him, next to Bella.

“Jackson, this is Amber. I told you about her; she’s come to my rescue on the gala committee.”

“Very nice to meet you, Amber. I understand you’ve been a great help.”

Her eyes were drawn to the delectable dimple that appeared when he smiled. If he wondered what she was doing having dinner with them, he at least had the good grace not to show it.

They ordered cocktails for themselves and appetizers for the kids, and after a little while Amber blended into the background and sat observing them.

“So tell me about your day,” Jackson said. “What was the highlight?”

“Well, I got two new dresses for my Bella doll, a stable set, and a tutu to match mine, so she can come to ballet with me.”

“How about you, Lu?”

“I liked Alice’s Teacup. It was cool. Then Amber took me to Barnes & Noble.”

He shook his head. “My little bibliophile. You come to the city, and that’s where you go? We have one right around the corner,” he said, not unkindly.

“Yeah, but’s it not huge, like here. Besides, we come here all the time. No big deal.”

Amber swallowed her anger at Tallulah’s sense of entitlement. No big deal, indeed. She’d like to ship her off to some rural location for a few years and let her see how the rest of America lived.

Jackson turned to Daphne, resting his hand briefly on her cheek. “And you, my darling? What was your highlight?”

“Getting the call from you.”

Amber wanted to vomit. Were they for real? She took a long swallow from her wineglass. No need to pace herself; he could afford to keep it coming.

When he finally tore his eyes off his gorgeous wife, Jackson glanced at Amber. “Are you from Connecticut, Amber?”

“No, Nebraska.”

He looked surprised. “What brought you east?”

“I wanted to expand my horizons. A friend of mine moved to Connecticut and invited me to room with her,” she said, then took another sip of wine. “I fell in love with the coastline right away — and being so close to New York.”

“How long have you been here?”

Was he really interested or just being polite? She couldn’t tell.

Daphne answered before she could. “About a year, right?” She smiled at her. “She’s in real estate too, works in the commercial division of Rollins Realty.”

“How did you meet again?”

“I told you, it was quite by accident,” Daphne said.

He was still looking at Amber, and she suddenly felt as though she was being interrogated.

“Hellooooooo? This is boring,” Bella sang out. Amber was grateful to the little wretch for distracting him.

Jackson turned his attention to her. “Bella, we don’t interrupt adults when they’re talking.” His voice was firm. Thank God one of them has a backbone, Amber thought.

Bella stuck her tongue out at him.

Tallulah gasped and looked at Jackson, as did Daphne. It felt like time had stopped as everyone waited to see his reaction.

He burst out laughing. “I think someone’s had too long a day.”

Everyone at the table seemed to exhale.

Bella pushed her chair back and ran over to him, burying her head in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He stroked her blond curls. “Thank you. Now you’re going to behave like a lady, right?”

She nodded and skipped back to her seat.

Score another point for the little hooligan, Amber thought. Who knew that the biggest thorn in her side was going to be this little pint-sized gremlin?

“How about another surprise?” he said.

“What?” the girls asked in unison.

“How about we go see the Christmas show at Radio City and then spend the night here?”

The girls’ voices rose in excitement, but Daphne put her arm on Jackson’s and said, “Sweetheart, I hadn’t planned to stay the night. And I’m sure Amber wants to get home.”

In fact, Amber was thrilled to stay. Her curiosity about the Parrishes’ apartment outweighed any desire to get back home.

Jackson glanced at Amber as if she were a pesky problem to be solved. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. What’s the big deal? She can borrow a change of clothes.” He looked right at Amber. “Is that a problem for you?”

Amber was dancing on the inside, but she gave him a sober and appreciative look. “That would be fine with me. I’d hate to disappoint Bella and Tallulah. They seem really excited to stay.”

He smiled and squeezed Daphne’s arm. “See? It’s fine. We’ll have a great time.”

Daphne shrugged, resigned to the change in plans. They went into the theater and watched Santa and the Rockettes for the next hour and a half. Amber thought the show was moronic, but the girls loved every minute.

When they came out, it was snowing, and the city looked like a winter wonderland, with white lights twinkling on the bare tree branches now covered in the magic powder. Amber looked around in awe. She’d never seen New York this late at night. It was a sight to behold, the lights making everything shimmer and glow.

Jackson took the phone from his pocket, pulled off his leather glove, and, hitting a key, brought it to his ear and said, “Send the driver to the front entrance of Radio City.”

When the black limousine with dark windows pulled up, Amber craned her neck to see what celebrity might step out, but as a tall, uniformed chauffeur got out and opened the back door, she realized that the limo was empty and that it was there for them. Now she felt like the celebrity. She’d never been in a limousine. She noticed that Daphne and the girls didn’t look the least bit fazed. Jackson took Daphne’s hand and guided her in first. Then he gave Bella and Tallulah a playful shove, and they followed after their mother. He gestured to indicate that Amber should enter next, but he barely looked at her. The car was large enough for the two women and two children to sit four across. Jackson spread out on the seat opposite them, his arm draped across the back of the seat and his legs spread wide. Amber tried with difficulty to keep her eyes off him. He was positively brimming with power and masculinity.

Bella was leaning against her mother, almost asleep, when Tallulah said, “Are we going right to the apartment, Daddy?”

“Yes, I—”

But before he got another word out, Bella shot up, now wide awake. “No, no, no. Not the apartment. I want to go where Eloise is. I want to sleep at the Plaza.”

“We can’t do that, sweetheart,” Daphne had said. “We don’t have a reservation. We’ll do that another time.”

Bella wasn’t having it. “Daddy, please. I’ll be the first one in my class to stay where Eloise lives. Everyone will be so jealous. Please, please, please?”

At first Amber had wanted to grab the little whiner and wring her selfish little neck, but there was something in her that Amber recognized, something that made her see how she could turn her into an ally instead of an enemy. And anyway, who cared whether they stayed at the apartment or the Plaza? Either one was a treat for Amber.

The next morning Amber rolled over, pulling the duvet closer around her until it touched her chin. She sighed and wriggled her body against the silky sheet, feeling its softness caress her. She’d never slept in such a sumptuously comfortable bed. In the one next to hers, Tallulah stirred. The suite had only two bedrooms — Bella had bunked with her parents, and though Tallulah hadn’t looked too happy about sharing a room with Amber, she’d obliged. Amber threw off the covers, rose, and went to the window. The Grand Penthouse Suite looked out over Central Park, and New York lay before her as if for the taking. She scanned the beautiful room, with its tall ceilings and elegant furnishings. The suite was fit for royalty, larger than the average house. Jackson had succumbed to Bella’s request, of course, had even sent his chauffeur to get clothes for everyone from the apartment. Unbelievable, how easy it was for the rich — how unfairly easy.

She slipped off the pajamas Daphne had lent her, then showered and dressed in the clothes she’d also been given last night: a pair of blue wool slacks and a white cashmere sweater. The material felt divine against her clean skin. She looked in the mirror, admiring the perfect cut and clean lines. When she glanced at the bed, she saw that Tallulah still slept, so she tiptoed quietly out of the room. Bella was already up, sitting on the green tufted sofa with a book in her hands. She looked up briefly as Amber entered, said nothing, and gave her attention back to the book. Amber sat on a chair opposite the sofa and picked up a magazine from the coffee table, not saying a word and pretending to read. They stayed that way for the next ten minutes, silent, uncommunicative.

Finally, Bella closed her book and stared at Amber. “Why didn’t you go home last night? This was supposed to be a family night.”

Amber thought for a moment. “Well, Bella, to tell you the truth, I knew everyone at my office would be envious if they knew I got to stay at the Plaza and have breakfast with Eloise.” She paused for effect. “I guess I wasn’t thinking about the family thing. You’re right about that. I should have gone home. I’m really sorry.”

Bella tilted her head and gave Amber a suspicious look. “Your friends know about Eloise? But you’re a grown-up. Why do you care about Eloise?”

“My mother read all the Eloise books to me when I was little.” This was total bullshit. Her mother had never read anything to her. If Amber hadn’t spent all her spare time in the library, she’d be illiterate now.

“Why didn’t your mom take you to the Plaza when you were little?”

“We lived far away from New York. Have you ever heard of Nebraska?”

Bella rolled her eyes. “Of course I’ve heard of Nebraska. I know all fifty states.”

This brat was going to take more than camaraderie and kid gloves.

“Well, that’s where I grew up. And we didn’t have enough money to come to New York. So, there you have it. But I do want to thank you for making one of my dreams come true. I’m going to let everyone at the office know that it was all because of you.”

Bella’s face was inscrutable, and before she answered, Jackson and Daphne came into the room.

“Good morning.” Daphne’s voice was cheery. “Where’s Tallulah? It’s time for breakfast. Is she up yet?”

“I’ll go see,” Amber said.

Tallulah was up and almost finished dressing when Amber knocked and went in. “Good morning,” she said to her. “Your mom asked me to check on you. I think they’re ready to go down to breakfast.”

Tallulah turned to look at her. “Okay, I’m ready.” And they walked together to the living room where the others waited.

“Did you girls sleep well?” Jackson’s voice boomed as they headed to the elevator. They all spoke at once, and as the elevator descended, he looked at Bella and said, “We’re going to have breakfast with Eloise in the Palm Court.”

Bella smiled and looked at Amber. “We’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” she said.

Maybe she finally had this little hellion in her pocket, Amber thought. Now it was time to work on Jackson.

Fourteen

Amber and Daphne sat beside each other at the Parrish dining room table, which was covered in paper, including the list of attendees and a ballroom diagram of the table arrangements. Since almost all of these people were unknown to Amber, Daphne was dictating the seating for each table while Amber dutifully entered all the information into an Excel file. There was a lull as Daphne studied the names before her, and Amber took the opportunity to gaze around the room and out the long bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out to the sea. The room could comfortably seat sixteen for dinner, but it still had a feeling of intimacy. The walls were a muted gold, a perfect backdrop for the magnificent oils of sailboats and seascapes in gilded frames. She could imagine the formal dinner parties they must have here, with elegant place settings of china, crystal, fine silver, and table linens of the highest quality. She was pretty certain that there was not a paper napkin to be found anywhere in the house.

“Sorry to take so long, Amber. I think I finally have table nine figured out,” Daphne said.

“No problem. I’ve been admiring this beautiful room.”

“It’s lovely, isn’t it? Jackson owned the house before we were married, so I haven’t done very much to change things. Just the sunroom, really.” She looked around and shrugged. “Everything was already perfect.”

“Gosh, how wonderful.”

Daphne gave her an odd look that passed quickly — too quickly for Amber to identify it.

“Well, I think we’re finished with the seating. I’ll send the list to the printer to make up the table cards,” Daphne said, rising from her chair. “I can’t thank you enough. This would have taken forever without your help.”

“Oh, you’re welcome. I’m happy to do it.”

Daphne looked at her watch and then back at Amber. “I don’t have to pick the girls up from tennis for another hour. How about a cup of tea and a bite to eat? Do you have time?”

“That would be great.” She followed Daphne out of the dining room. “Could I use the restroom?”

“Of course.” They walked a bit farther, and Daphne indicated a door on the left. “When you come out, turn right and keep walking to the kitchen. I’ll put the tea on.”

Amber entered the first-floor powder room and was stunned. Every room in the house offered a staggering reminder of Jackson Parrish’s great wealth. With its polished black walls and silver picture-frame wainscoting, it was the epitome of quiet opulence. A waterfall slab of marble was the focus of the room, and on top of it sat a marble vessel sink. Amber looked around in wonder once again. Everything original, custom-made. What would it be like to have a custom-made life, she wondered?

She washed her hands and took one last look in the mirror, a tall, beveled piece of glass set in a frame that looked like rippled silver leaves. As she walked the length of the corridor to the kitchen, she slowed to look at the art on the walls. Some she recognized from her exhaustive reading and Met courses — a Sisley and a stunning Boudin. If these were the real thing, and they probably were, the paintings alone were worth a small fortune. And here they were, hanging in a little-trafficked hallway.

As she entered the kitchen, she saw that tea and a plate of fruit sat waiting on the island.

“Mug or cup?” Daphne asked, standing in front of an open cabinet door.

The shelves of the cabinet looked as if they could have been a display for a luxury kitchen showroom. Amber imagined someone using a ruler to measure an exact distance between each cup and glass. Everything lined up perfectly, and everything matched. It was disconcerting in some strange way, and she found herself mutely staring, mesmerized by the symmetry.

“Amber?” Daphne said.

“Oh. Mug, please.” She sat on one of the cushioned stools.

“Do you take milk?”

“Yes, please,” Amber said.

Daphne swung the refrigerator door open, and Amber stared again. The contents were lined up with military precision, the tallest at the rear and all labels facing front. The absolute precision of Daphne’s home was off-putting. It felt to Amber like more than a desire for a neat home and more like an obsession, a compulsion. She remembered Sally’s account of Daphne’s time in a sanitarium after Tallulah’s birth. Perhaps there had been more going on than just postpartum depression, she thought.

Daphne sat opposite Amber and poured their tea. “So, we have just two weeks before the big night. You’ve been amazing. I’ve felt such a wonderful synergy with you. We both have so much of our hearts invested in this.”

“I’ve loved every minute of it. I can’t wait until the fund-raiser. It’s going to be a huge success.”

Daphne took a sip of tea and placed the mug on the counter between her hands. Looking at Amber, she said, “I’d like to do something to show my appreciation for all your hard work.”

Amber tilted her head and gave Daphne a questioning look.

“I hope you’ll let me buy you a dress for the fund-raiser,” Daphne said.

Amber had hoped this was going to happen, but she had to play it carefully. “Oh no,” she said. “I couldn’t let you do that.”

“Please. I’d really love to. It’s my way of saying thank you.”

“I don’t know. It feels like you’re paying me, and I didn’t work on this to get paid. I wanted to do it.” Amber smiled inwardly at her brilliant show of humility.

“You mustn’t think of it as payment. Think of it as gratitude for your immense help and support,” Daphne said as she pushed back a blond wave, her diamond ring flashing brightly.

“I don’t know. I feel sort of funny having you spend money on me.”

“Well,” Daphne said and paused. “How would you feel about borrowing something of mine, then?”

Amber could have kicked herself for protesting too much, but she guessed borrowing a dress was the next best thing. “Gee, I hadn’t thought of that. I would feel better if you weren’t spending your money.” As if this woman didn’t have millions to burn.

“Great.” Daphne stood up from the stool. “Come upstairs with me, and we’ll look through my closet.”

They climbed the stairs together, and Amber admired the Dutch masters on the wall.

“You have magnificent artwork. I could spend hours looking at it.”

“You’re more than welcome to. Are you interested in art? Jackson is absolutely passionate about it,” Daphne said as they reached the landing.

“Well, I’m no art expert, but I do love museums,” Amber replied.

“Jackson too. He’s a board member of the Bishops Harbor Art Center. Here we are,” Daphne said, leading her into a large room — given its size, it could hardly be called a walk-in closet — filled with racks of clothing lined up in perfect, parallel rows. Every piece of clothing was in a transparent garment bag, and two walls were lined with shelves that held shoes of all styles, arranged by color. Built-in drawers on a third wall held sweaters, one each, with a small see-through panel to identify them. At one end of the room stood a three-way mirror and a pedestal. The lighting was bright but flattering, without the harshness of department-store fitting rooms.

“Wow,” Amber couldn’t help herself from remarking. “This is something.”

Daphne waved her hand dismissively. “We attend a lot of functions. I used to go shopping for each one, and Jackson said I was wasting too much time. He started having things sent to the house for me to look at.” She was leading Amber to a rack near the back when suddenly a young woman came walking into the room.

“Madame,” she said. “Les filles. It is time to pick them up, non?”

“Oh my gosh, you’re right, Sabine,” she exclaimed, looking at her watch again. “I’ve got to go. I promised the girls I would get them today. Why don’t you just look through these dresses till I get back? I won’t be long.” She patted Amber’s arm. “Oh, and, Amber, this is Sabine, our nanny.” She rushed out of the room.

“Nice to meet you, Sabine,” Amber said.

Sabine, reserved, gave a small nod of her head and in thickly accented English responded, “My pleasure, miss.”

“Mrs. Parrish told me you’d been hired to teach French to the girls. Do you enjoying working here?”

Sabine’s eyes softened a moment before she regained her austere composure. “Very much. Now you will please excuse me?”

Amber watched as she walked away. So she was French — big deal. She was still just a nanny. But, Amber thought, Daphne’s friends would all think it was so grand, not the usual Spanish-speaking nanny, but one who would teach her daughters French.

Amber looked around the room in wonder. Daphne’s closet, indeed. This was more like having an exclusive department store at your disposal. She sauntered, slowly examining the rack upon rack of clothes, all meticulously sorted by color and type. The shoes were lined up with the same fastidiousness as the china in the kitchen cabinets. Even the spacing between garments was uniform. When she got to the three-way mirror, she noticed two comfortable club chairs on either side — apparently meant for Jackson or whoever was nodding approval as Daphne modeled her choices. On the rack Daphne had indicated, she began to look through the dresses. Dior, Chanel, Wu, McQueen — the names went on and on. This wasn’t some chain department store sending clothes for Daphne to look at; these were couture houses making their designs available to a moneyed client. It boggled her mind.

And Daphne was so casual about all of it — the luxury, the fine art, the “closet” full of designer suits, dresses, and shoes. Amber unzipped one of the bags and brought out a turquoise Versace evening dress. She carried it to the three-way mirror and stepped onto the pedestal, holding the beautiful dress against her body and staring at her reflection. Even Mrs. Lockwood had never brought anything remotely like this to be dry-cleaned.

Amber hung the dress up and, when she turned away, suddenly noticed a door at the far end of the room. She moved toward it and paused with her hand on the knob only a moment before opening it. Before her was a sumptuous space that was a dazzling mix of luxury and comfort. She walked around slowly, her fingers brushing the yellow silk wallpaper. A white velvet chaise longue sat in a corner of the room, and the light from the Palladian window threw dazzling prisms of color on the walls as it pierced the crystals that hung from the large chandelier. She reclined onto the chaise, looking at the picture on the opposite wall, the only piece of art in the room, and felt herself drawn into the peaceful scene of trees and sky. Her shoulders relaxed, and she surrendered to the stillness and calm of this special place.

She closed her eyes and, imagining this was her room, stayed that way for a while. When she finally rose, she examined the space more closely, the delicate table with photographs of a young Daphne and her sister, Julie. She recognized the slight girl with long, dark hair and beautiful almond-shaped eyes from photographs she’d seen throughout the house. She moved to the front of an antique armoire with an abundance of small drawers. Reaching over, she opened one of them. Some lacy underwear. Another with exotic soaps. More of the same in the other drawers, all meticulously folded and placed. She opened the cabinet and found mounds of plush bath towels. She was about to close the door when she noticed a rosewood box toward the back. Amber took it in her hand, undid the catch, and opened it. Inside, nestled on rich green velvet, sat a small pearl-handled pistol. She gently lifted it from the box and saw etched on the barrel the initials YMB. What was this gun doing here? And who was YMB?

Amber wasn’t sure how long she had been standing there when she heard the sound of voices and doors opening and closing. She quickly replaced the gun, took one more glance around the room to make sure she hadn’t disturbed anything, and left. As she reentered the clothing room, the children came bounding in, Daphne close behind them.

“Hi, we’re back. Sorry we were so long. Bella forgot her painting, so we went back to get it,” Daphne said.

“It’s fine,” Amber said. “The dresses are all so beautiful, I can’t decide.”

Bella frowned and whispered to her mother, “What’s she doing here?”

“Sorry,” Daphne said to Amber and then took Bella’s hand. “We’re finding a dress for Amber to borrow for the fund-raiser. Why don’t you and Tallulah help her? Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“All right,” Tallulah said with a smile, but Bella looked at Amber with undisguised hostility, turned on her heel, and stalked out of the room.

“Don’t let her upset you. She just doesn’t know you well enough yet. It takes Bella a while to warm up.”

Amber nodded. She better get used to me, she thought. I’m going to be around a long, long time.

Fifteen

Amber was pissed. It was December 24, and Rollins was staying open until two o’clock. What kind of idiots looked at houses on Christmas Eve? Why weren’t they at home, wrapping their big-ticket presents and decorating their twelve-foot trees? But they probably didn’t do all those things themselves, she reflected. That’s what people like Amber were for.

Around noon Jenna stood in the doorway of Amber’s office. “Hey, Amber, can I come in?”

“What is it?” Just what I need now, she thought peevishly.

Jenna walked in with a large wrapped package in her hand and placed it on Amber’s desk. “Merry Christmas.”

Amber glanced at the gift and then at Jenna. She hadn’t even thought to buy a present for Jenna, and was discomfited by her gesture.

“Open it!” Jenna said.

Amber picked it up and tore off the paper, then took the lid off the box. Inside was a glorious assortment of Christmas cookies, each one more delicate and delicious-looking than the last. “Did you make these?”

Jenna clapped her hands together. “Yes, me and my mom do it every year. She’s a spectacular baker. Do you like them?”

“I do. Thank you so much, Jenna. It was really nice of you.” Amber paused a moment. “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s okay, Amber. I didn’t make them so you’d get me a gift. It’s just something my mom and I love doing. I give them to everyone in the office. I hope you enjoy them. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

Amber slept late on Christmas morning. When she awoke, the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and only an inch of snow had fallen. She took a long, hot shower and, after wrapping her terry-cloth robe around her, made a strong pot of coffee. She took her mug back into the bathroom and began to blow-dry her wet hair into soft waves — plain but classic. She applied a little blush, a dab of very discreet eye shadow, and some mascara. She stepped back from the mirror to examine the finished product. She looked youthful and fresh but without a trace of sexiness.

Daphne had asked her to come over around two o’clock, so after she finished a cup of yogurt, she sat down to read The Odyssey, which she’d borrowed from the library last week. Before she knew it, it was time to dress and gather everything up. Hanging on the closet door was the outfit she’d chosen — gray wool slacks and a white-and-gray turtleneck sweater. Small pearl studs in her ears — not real, of course, but who cared — a simple gold-colored bangle on her left wrist, and only her sapphire ring on her finger. She wanted to look pure and virginal. She took one last look in the full-length mirror, nodded approval at her image, and swept the presents into a large shopping bag.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into the open gates and parked her car in the circular driveway. Grabbing the bag of presents, she strode to the door and rang the bell. She saw Daphne coming down the hall, Bella right behind her.

“Welcome! Merry Christmas. I’m so glad you could come,” Daphne said, flinging open the door and embracing her.

“Merry Christmas to you. Thank you so much for letting me share this day with you and your family,” Amber said.

“Oh, it’s our pleasure,” Daphne said as she shut the door.

Bella was dancing around next to Daphne like a jumping bean.

“Hi, Bella. Merry Christmas.” Amber gave her a big fake smile.

“Do you have a present for me?” Bella asked.

“Oh, Bella, you didn’t even say hello. That was very rude,” Daphne scolded.

“Of course I brought you a present. How could I not give one of my favorite girls a present?”

“Goody. Can I have it now?”

“Bella! Amber hasn’t even taken her coat off.” She gave her daughter a little shove. “Let me have your coat, Amber, and let’s all go into the living room.”

Bella looked as if she was going to protest but did as she was told.

Jackson and Tallulah looked up from the dollhouse they were furnishing as Amber, Daphne, and Bella entered the room. “Merry Christmas, Amber. Welcome,” Jackson said with a warmth that indeed made her feel welcome.

“Thank you for inviting me. My whole family is back in Nebraska, and I would have been alone today. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

“No one should be alone on Christmas. We’re glad you’re here.”

Amber thanked him again and then turned to Tallulah. “Hi, Tallulah. Merry Christmas. What a cool dollhouse.”

“Would you like to come see it?” she asked.

These kids were like night and day. She didn’t like children, but at least Tallulah had manners, not like the little animal who thought the sun and the moon revolved around her. Amber went and sat down next to Tallulah in front of the dollhouse. She had never seen anything like it, even in photographs. What she and her sisters would have given for a toy like this, with all the fabulous furnishings and dolls to go with it! It was enormous, with three stories, real wood floors, tile bathrooms, electric chandeliers that actually worked, and beautiful paintings on the walls. As she looked closer, she realized it was a replica of the actual house they lived in. It had to have been custom-made. What must that have cost?

“How about a glass of eggnog, Amber?” Daphne asked.

“I’d love one, thank you.” She continued to watch as Tallulah carefully placed sofas, tables, and chairs in the house. Bella was on the other side of the room, busy with her iPad.

As she sat there, Amber took in all of the presents sitting open under the tree. They were piled high upon one another, tissue and ribbon mingled in the mix and spilled far into the room. She thought back to the miserly Christmases of her youth and felt keenly sad. She and her sisters had always gotten presents that were utilitarian, like underwear or socks, never a gift that was a luxury or even just a fun toy to play with. Even their stockings had been filled with useful or edible things, like the huge orange at the bottom to take up room, pencils and erasers for school, and sometimes a little puzzle that would become tiresome after one day.

The display in the Parrishes’ living room left her speechless. She saw what looked like silk lingerie peeking out from one of the boxes and several smaller boxes that must have contained more jewelry for Daphne. Tallulah’s presents were stacked in a neat pile. Bella’s, on the other hand, were haphazardly spread out over a large part of the room, and once she put down the iPad, she went from one to another in quick order.

The one thing missing from this scene, Amber thought to herself, was Daphne’s mother. Why wouldn’t the girls’ grandmother, a widow living only a car ride away, not be invited to spend Christmas with her only daughter and granddaughters? It seemed to her that the value placed on lavish presents was way above that of family.

Daphne came back into the living room with three glasses of eggnog and put them on the mahogany butler’s table between the two large sofas.

“Amber, come sit with me,” she said, and patted the cushion next to her. “Will you have some time off before the new year?”

“I do, actually. That’s the advantage of working on the commercial side of real estate.” She took a sip of eggnog. “Are you and Jackson going away over the holiday?”

“As a matter of fact, we leave on the twenty-eighth for St. Bart’s. We usually leave the day after Christmas, but Meredith is having a surprise fiftieth birthday party for Rand the day after tomorrow, so we pushed the date.”

“How nice,” Amber said, seething inside. She would be spending the rest of the holidays in her cheerless apartment trying to stay warm while they basked in the sun.

She rose from the sofa, hoping her expression hadn’t betrayed her jealousy. “I’ve brought some presents. Let me get them,” she said.

Bella jumped up from the floor and ran over. “Can I see my present? Can I, can I?”

Amber noticed Jackson smiling as he watched Bella jump around with anticipation.

“Here you go, Bella.” Amber handed her the wrapped book set. Luckily, she had also gotten her a sparkly necklace and bracelet to match. Bella loved shiny things.

She ripped greedily into the paper, looked briefly at the books, and then opened the smaller box. “Ooh, pretty.”

“How lovely. Let me help you put on the necklace,” Daphne said.

“Here, Tallulah, this one is for you.”

She slowly unwrapped the package. “Thank you, Amber. I love this book.”

Bella, finished with the necklace and bracelet, began looking through the books Amber had given her and stomped her foot. “No fair. I already have this book in the series!”

Jackson swept her up in his arms and tried to console her. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll take it back to the store and get one you don’t have, okay?”

“Okay,” she whined and put her head on his shoulder.

Daphne retrieved a wrapped package from under the Christmas tree and handed it to Amber. “This is for you. I hope you like it.”

Amber untied the red velvet ribbon and gently tore off the black-and-gold paper. The small box held an elegant gold chain with a single pearl. It was beautiful. For a moment Amber was overwhelmed. She’d never owned something so lovely. “Oh, Daphne, thank you. I love it. Thank you so much.”

“You’re so welcome.”

“I have something for you too.”

Daphne unwrapped the box and then held up the bracelet. When she read Julie’s name on the charm, her eyes filled with tears. She slipped the bangle onto her wrist. “What a wonderful gift. I’ll wear it always. Thank you!”

Amber held her arm out in front of her. “I have one too. We’ll have our sisters with us all the time.”

“Yes.” Daphne choked up as she pulled Amber to her, hugging her tightly.

“Let me see, Mommy.” Bella ran to the sofa and flopped onto her mother’s lap.

“You see, a pretty bracelet with Aunt Julie’s name engraved on it. Isn’t it lovely?”

“Uh-huh. Can I wear it?”

“Maybe later, okay?”

“No, now.”

“Well, just for a few minutes, and then Mommy wants it back.” Daphne took the bracelet off and handed it to her. Bella pushed her fist through it, but the bracelet was too big to stay on her tiny wrist, and she passed it back to Daphne. “Here, Mommy. I don’t like it. You have it.”

Amber was furious that this unpleasant child had interrupted what should have been a serious bonding moment, but she picked up the other gift and held it out to Daphne, “One more that I thought you might like.”

“Amber. Really, this is too much. You’ve gone overboard.”

No, Amber thought, overboard is what is surrounding us in this room full of lavish presents amid discarded ribbons and wrappings. “It’s nothing, Daph. Just a little thing.”

Daphne opened the box and pulled out the turtle wrapped in tissue paper. As she unwound the paper and the crystal turtle came into view, she lost her grip and dropped it onto the floor.

Amber reached down to pick it up, glad to see that it hadn’t broken. “Good”—she placed it on the coffee table—“still intact.”

Jackson strode over to them, scooped up the turtle to examine it, and turned it over in his hands. “Look, Daphne. You don’t have one like this. What a nice addition to your collection.” Jackson set the turtle down. “Great gift, Amber. Now how about we go to the dining room for some Christmas dinner?”

“Oh, wait,” Amber said. “I have a gift for you too, Jackson.”

“You really needn’t have done this,” he said as he took the package she handed to him. She watched as he removed the decorative paper and stared at the book in his hands. He looked up at Amber in surprise, and for the first time she felt he was really looking at her. “This is amazing. Where did you find it?”

“I’ve always been interested in the cave paintings. It’s apparent that you and Daphne are discerning art lovers, so when I came across it on an antiquarian book site, I thought you might be interested in them too.” She’d searched the antiquarian bookstores online and had finally found one she thought he’d appreciate—The Lascaux Cave Paintings by F. Windels. She’d gulped when she’d seen the $75 price, but decided to go ahead and make this her one splurge. The paintings were over 17,000 years old, and the French caves had been named a UNESCO World Heritage Site. She had hoped he would be impressed.

Amber smiled to herself. She had definitely scored with this one.

Daphne rose from the sofa. “Okay, everyone, time for dinner.”

“Just a second. One more thing.” Amber handed her the box of cookies.

“Goodness, Amber. These look delicious. Look, girls, don’t they look yummy?”

“I want one.” Bella stood on tiptoe and looked in the box.

“After dinner, sweetheart. Amber, this is so sweet of you.”

“Well, Rollins closed early yesterday, so I enjoyed baking them last evening.”

“What? You made these?”

“It’s not a big deal. It was fun, really.”

They walked into the dining room together, and suddenly Bella was by Amber’s side. She took hold of Amber’s hand and smiled up at her. “You’re a really good cookie maker. I’m glad you came today.”

Amber looked down at the little brat and smiled back. “Me too, Bella.”

She felt a swell of satisfaction rise inside her.

Sixteen

Amber had a New Year plan that she hoped would ramp things up. Her panicked phone call had done the trick, and now Daphne waited for her as she walked to the door.

A worried look crossed Daphne’s face as she ushered Amber in. They went directly to the sunroom.

“What’s happened?” Daphne asked with concern.

“I’ve been trying to work this out on my own, but I just can’t take it anymore. I have to talk to someone about it.”

“Come, sit.” Daphne took Amber by the hand and led her to the sofa. “Now, what is it?” She leaned forward, her eyes focused on Amber’s face.

Amber took a deep breath. “I was fired today. But it’s not my fault, and I can’t do anything about it.” She began to cry.

“What do you mean? Back up and tell me everything.”

“It started a few months ago. It seemed whenever I went into his office, Mark — my boss, Mark Jansen — would find some reason to touch me. Brushing something off my shoulder or putting his hand on mine. At first I thought it was nothing. But then, last week, he asked if I would go with him on a client dinner.”

Daphne was staring at her intently, and Amber wondered if she thought she was too homely to be hit on.

“Is it usual for you to attend client dinners?” Daphne asked.

Amber shrugged. “Not really. But at the time I was flattered. I figured he valued my opinion and wanted my input. And maybe, you know, there might be a promotion in the future. I drove myself and met him at Gilly’s. He was already there, but he was alone. He told me the client had called and was running late. We had a couple of beers, and I started to feel funny.” She stopped again, taking a deep breath. “The next thing I knew, his hand was on my knee and then moving up my thigh.”

“What?” Daphne’s voice exploded in anger.

Amber wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth. “It was horrible, Daph. He slid closer to me in the booth and stuck his tongue in my mouth and started fondling my breast. I pushed him away and ran.”

“That pig! He won’t get away with this.” Her eyes were blazing. “You have to report him.”

Amber shook her head. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“The next day, he claimed I had hit on him. Told me no one would believe me.”

“That’s ridiculous. We’re going to march right over there and talk to Human Resources.”

“I’m so ashamed to tell you this, but at the office holiday party a few weeks ago, I had too many drinks and ended up kissing one of the agents. Everyone saw. They’re going to believe him, believe that I’m loose.”

“Still, that’s not the same thing as your boss taking advantage of you.”

“I can’t make trouble. He offered me two months’ pay if I leave quietly. My mother is still paying off Charlene’s medical bills, and I send her money every month. I can’t afford not to take it. I’ll find something else. I’m just so humiliated.”

“He’s paying you off to shut you up. I can help you with money until you find another job. I think you should fight it.”

Now she was talking, but Amber had to up the ante and see the act through.

“And have every real estate firm in Connecticut afraid to hire me? No, I have to keep my mouth shut. Besides, maybe I did give him the wrong idea.”

Daphne stood up, pacing. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. Of course you didn’t do anything wrong. That piece of garbage — he’ll probably do it to someone else too.”

“Believe me, I’ve thought about that too. But, Daphne, I have too many people depending on me. I can’t report him and take the chance of not being able to get a job.”

“Damn him. He knows he has you in a corner.”

“He gave me a good reference. I just need to hit the pavement now.” She smiled at Daphne. “And the upside is that my days are free, so I’m free to work full-time on the fund-raiser.”

“You find the good in everything, don’t you? I’ll respect your wishes, even though I’d love to go over and let him have it. It’s so noble of you, helping your mom.” Amber watched Daphne’s face as she grew quiet, seemingly contemplating something. Amber wondered if Daphne was thinking of her own mother and feeling guilty. “You know what? I’m going to talk to Jackson. There might be something for you at his company.”

Amber made herself look surprised. “You really think so? That would be amazing. I’d be willing to do anything. Even starting as an administrative assistant or something like that would be great.” This time her smile was genuine.

“Of course. They must have something for you. I’ll speak to him tonight. In the meantime, let’s do something to cheer you up. How about a little shopping?”

She must have noticed the look on Amber’s face and realized that shopping was the last thing she could afford now that she was out of work. Honestly, how long had it been since this woman had lived in the real world?

“Sorry, you must think me terribly insensitive. What I meant was, I’d love to take you shopping — my treat. And before you argue, remember, I didn’t grow up with all this.” She swept her arm across the room. “I’m from a little town in New Hampshire. Probably not that different from where you were raised. When I first met Jackson and saw this house, I thought it was ridiculous, all the excess. Over time, you get used to it — maybe too used to it. And spending time with the women here, I must admit, I’ve lost myself a little.”

Amber kept silent, curious to see where Daphne’s little confession was going.

“You’ve helped me remember what’s really important, why I came here to begin with — to help other families and to ease the suffering of those with this terrible disease. Jackson’s made a lot of money, but I don’t want that to build a wall between you and me. For the first time since I lost my sister, I actually feel close to someone. Please, let me do this.”

Amber liked the sound of that. The best part was that she could make Daphne feel like Amber was the one being generous. She wondered if she could get her to spring for a whole new work wardrobe.

She widened her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“Well, I suppose I could use a few things for my job search. Can you help me pick out a new interview outfit?”

“I would love to.”

Amber suppressed a laugh. Daphne was so nice, she almost felt guilty. She had figured it would take some subtle hinting and footwork to nudge Daphne into suggesting a job at Parrish International, but Daphne had bitten before she’d even tasted the bait. And poor, happily married Mark Jansen, whose reputation she had besmirched, had never made anything resembling an advance toward her. She would call Mark this afternoon and resign. The engine was humming. It was now just a matter of driving the car.

Seventeen

The big evening had finally arrived and, despite herself, Amber was as nervous as an actress on opening night. The fund-raiser began at eight, but Jackson and Daphne were picking her up at six so they could be there early and make sure everything was in order. Daphne had spared her the worry of how she would come up with the $250 for the ticket by purchasing the whole table and inviting her.

Amber poured herself a glass of chardonnay. The wine and music would relax her as she dressed. This was not her night to shine, but on the other hand, she didn’t want to show up looking like some small-town hick. She went to the bed, where she’d laid out her clothes for the evening, picking up the black lace thong and slipping it over her slender hips. Nobody would see her underwear, but she would know how sexy she looked underneath that dress, and it would make a difference in the way she felt. Then the dress, the gorgeous Valentino she’d chosen from Daphne’s closet. It was a simple, floor-length black number with a high neck, long sleeves, and draped back. Subtly sexy, but not in the least obvious. She pulled her hair back into a sleek chignon and applied minimal makeup. The only jewelry she wore was the pearl necklace Daphne had given her for Christmas and her small pearl earrings. She took one last look in the mirror and smiled at her reflection. Satisfied, she grabbed her handbag, a small silver clutch she’d picked up cheap at DSW. She caught a whiff of Daphne’s perfume as she draped the silver silk shawl Daphne had lent her around her shoulders.

She stood at the door and, before turning out the light, looked back at the room she lived in. She tried to ignore her surroundings, but it was becoming more and more difficult as she was exposed to the way Daphne and her friends lived. She had graduated from the dreary home of her youth to this monklike existence. She sighed, banished the memories from her mind, and closed the door behind her.

At ten to six, she walked down the short path from the building to the street. At precisely six o’clock, the black Town Car pulled up. She wondered what her neighbors on her modest street were thinking as the chauffeur got out of the car and opened the door for her. She slid into the backseat across from Jackson and Daphne.

“Hello, Daphne, Jackson. Thanks so much for picking me up.”

“Of course,” Daphne said. “You look lovely. The dress looks like it was made for you. You should keep it.”

Jackson looked at her a long moment and then turned away. He seemed slightly annoyed, Amber thought. Great, she’d been hoping to make a lasting impression on him, and she was, but for the completely wrong reason. She never should have agreed to borrow a dress from Daphne. What had she been thinking?

“I went to the hotel a little earlier to see the auction setup,” Daphne said, smoothing over the awkwardness. “It looks beautiful. I think we’ll do well.”

“I think so too,” Amber said. “The silent auction items are fabulous. Can’t wait to see how much the villa in Santorini goes for.”

The small talk continued as they drove to the hotel. She noticed that Jackson held his wife’s hand for the entire drive, and when they arrived, he gently and lovingly helped her out of the car, leaving the chauffeur to lend Amber a hand. He was nuts about Daphne, Amber thought, and felt her determination wilt a bit.

They were not the first to arrive. The decorating committee was already there, putting the finishing touches on the auction table and placing the floral centerpieces on the fifty tables covered in pink tablecloths and black napkins. The band was setting up at the far end of the room, and the bartenders were arranging their stock; they’d be busy tonight.

“Wow, Daphne, it looks amazing,” Amber said.

Jackson put his arm around Daphne’s waist and, pulling her to him, nuzzled her ear. “Great job, my darling. You’ve outdone yourself.”

Amber looked at them, Jackson resembling a movie star in his black dinner jacket, and Daphne absolutely gorgeous in a strapless chiffon gown of emerald green that hugged every curve of her body.

“Thank you, sweetheart. That means so much to me.” She looked at Jackson and then pulled away. “I really need to check on my volunteers and see if anyone needs anything. You’ll excuse me, yes?” Daphne turned to Amber. “Stay here and keep Jackson company while I see if Meredith has everything she needs.”

“Sure,” Amber said.

Jackson continued to watch Daphne as she walked across the ballroom, seemingly unaware that Amber was even there.

“You must be very proud of your wife tonight,” Amber said.

“What?” He tore his eyes away from Daphne.

“I said, you must be very proud of your wife tonight.”

“She’s the most beautiful and accomplished woman in this room,” he said with pride.

“Daphne’s been wonderful to me. My best friend, really.”

Jackson frowned. “Your best friend?”

Amber sensed immediately that she’d made a mistake. “Well, not best friend exactly. More like a mentor. She’s taught me so much.”

She saw him relax a little. This was proving to be an exercise in futility. Obviously, nothing in her plan was going to move forward tonight.

“I think I’ll go see if I can be of any help,” she said to Jackson.

He gestured absently. “Right-o, good idea.”

The evening was a smashing success. The bidding was frenzied, and the crowd drank and danced until midnight. Amber walked around the room, taking it all in — the designer dresses and opulent jewels, the snippets of gossip and laughter from clustered groups of women, the men in black tie loudly discussing the latest S&P 500 losing streak. The world of the rich and mighty, mingling and toasting each other, smug and confident in their little one-percent corner of the world.

Despite being seated at Daphne’s table, though, Amber felt as out of place here as she had at the dry cleaner’s. She wanted to belong somewhere, to have people look up to her, fawn over her the way they did Daphne. She was tired of being the girl no one noticed or cared about.

But tonight was not turning out the way she’d hoped. Jackson never took his eyes off Daphne. He was always reaching for her hand or running his hand up and down her back. For the first time, Amber was discouraged, wondering if her plan was unworkable, if the prize was out of reach.

She watched the dancers from her seat, some of the May-December couples looking comically unsuited to one another. Something flashed in the corner of her eye, making Amber turn to see a photographer. She turned her head quickly as the flashing continued, praying her image had not been caught on camera.

Jackson and Daphne had been on the dance floor a good portion of the evening, and now they came walking back to the table. She saw Daphne give Jackson a discreet push, and he stood in front of Amber. “Would you care to dance?” he asked.

Amber looked at Daphne, who smiled and nodded at her. “I’d love to.” She rose and took Jackson’s hand as he led her to the dance floor.

She relaxed into Jackson’s strong arms, inhaling the clean, masculine smell of him, enjoying the feel of his arms around her and his body against hers. She closed her eyes and pretended he belonged to her, that she was the envy of every woman in the room. The high lasted even though the dance ended. He didn’t ask her again, but that one dance was enough to get her through the rest of the evening. At twelve thirty, Amber strode to the long table where volunteers sat waiting to help winning bidders check out. She sat down at the credit card machine next to Meredith.

“We did well tonight,” Meredith said.

“Yes, it was a great success. Of course, you were a big part of that.” Amber was laying it on thick, but Meredith wasn’t biting.

“Oh please, it was a group effort. Everyone worked equally,” she said stiffly.

Amber had nothing to say in response. This bitch would never accept her, so why should she even try? They continued to work side by side in silence as people checked out. As they were finishing up, Meredith turned to Amber. “Daphne tells me you’re from Nebraska.”

“I am.”

“I’ve never been there. What’s it like?” she said, with not one iota of curiosity in her voice.

Amber thought for a moment. “I come from a small town. They’re pretty much all the same.”

“Mm. I suppose they are. What town exactly?”

“Eustis. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

Before Meredith could continue her interrogation, Daphne appeared in front of them.

“You’re all amazing,” she said to the volunteers at the table. “Thank you so much for this phenomenal night. Now go home and get some much-needed rest. I love all of you.” She looked at Amber. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, we’re all finished. I’ll just get my things.”

On the drive home, Jackson and Daphne looked like lovebirds, his hand firmly on her thigh.

“Your speech was good.” Jackson squeezed her leg.

Daphne looked surprised. “Thank you.”

“I wish you had let me look it over.”

“You were so busy. I didn’t want to bother you.”

He stroked her leg. “I’m never too busy to help you, darling.”

Daphne leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Amber grew disheartened as she watched their interaction. It was obvious to her that Jackson took a loving interest in every aspect of Daphne’s life. Daphne had been easy pickings, but Jackson was going to be a different matter entirely. He was going to require all of Amber’s cunning and ingenuity.

Eighteen

It had been a month since the fund-raiser, but Amber was still feeling off balance after seeing Jackson’s devotion to Daphne that night. Her connection to Daphne was just getting stronger, though. She was on her way to Tallulah’s eleventh birthday party, having become fully ensconced in Daphne’s life and invited to almost all family events. Daphne was so trusting of her that it almost made her feel bad… almost. Amber had gotten Tallulah a book on the life of Edgar Allan Poe and had thought it wise to also pick up a little something for Bella. She was beginning to understand the workings of the little brat’s mind and figured watching Tallulah open a ton of gifts would not be at the top of Bella’s list of fun things to do.

When she entered the playroom, the children were seated in a big circle as two women unloaded cages with exotic birds and small zoo animals. Amber walked to where Daphne and an older woman stood watching the fun.

“Amber, welcome. Come meet my mother.” Daphne clasped Amber’s hand in hers. “Mom, this is my friend Amber.”

The woman stretched her arm out for a handshake. “I’m pleased to meet you, Amber. I’m Ruth.”

“Nice to meet you,” Amber replied, juggling the presents she’d brought so that she could shake Ruth’s hand.

“My goodness,” Daphne said. “What have you got there?”

“Oh, just a few presents.”

“Why don’t you put them in with the others in the conservatory? The zoo show will start soon. You don’t want to miss that,” Daphne said.

When Amber entered the conservatory, she was startled once again by the excess. Not that she wouldn’t have wanted the same kind of party as a kid, but she hadn’t even known anything like this existed when she was little. The presents were piled high, and a large table had been moved into the room for the children’s lunch. Each place was carefully set with colorful plates and napkins, and beautifully wrapped goodie bags were perched at each spot. It was completely kid-friendly and sublimely elegant at the same time. She put her gifts down and left the room. As she walked back to the party room, she saw Jackson coming down the hall. He gave her a charming smile.

“Hi there. So glad you could join us today,” he said with enthusiasm.

“Um, thank you. I’m glad to be here,” she stuttered.

He gave her another wide smile and held the playroom door for her.

They stood together and watched as the handlers brought out one animal after another and explained a little about them, Jackson with a drink in hand. Amber had difficulty keeping her eyes from straying to him. She wondered how long it would take to get him into bed. The thought that she could have this man of power and wealth under her spell exhilarated her. She knew how to please a man and suspected that after over a decade of marriage, the sex between him and Daphne had to be pretty boring and stale. Amber could picture the things she could do to make him want her if given half the chance. She resolved to take her time and carefully stick to her plan. No sense in rushing and messing things up like before.

When the show ended, the adults tried to calm the children as they tromped into the conservatory for lunch. It was noisy and riotous, with raucous laughter and high-pitched voices. Amber felt like she was going to scream, and she noticed that Jackson wasn’t in the room where everyone was eating.

Finally, Margarita brought out the huge birthday cake covered in chocolate icing and topped with eleven white candles in the shape of ballerinas. Amber noticed a small chunk missing from one side of the cake.

“Okay,” Daphne said in a loud voice. “Time to sing ‘Happy Birthday,’ and then Tallulah can open her presents.”

Amber could see the storm clouds gathering behind Bella’s eyes as the children and adults sang to her sister. Her mouth was set in a straight line, and her arms were crossed in front of her. She was having none of it.

The minute the singing stopped and Tallulah had blown out the candles, Daphne began handing her the presents. At the table, the children were happy and occupied eating cake as Tallulah unwrapped one after another and thanked the giver. After the seventh one, Bella’s voice rang out. “It’s not fair. Tallulah’s getting all the presents. Where’s mine?”

This was the moment Amber had been waiting for. “Hey, Bella. I brought a present for Tallulah, but I brought one for you too. I’ll give Tallulah hers, and here’s the one for you. I hope you like it.”

Daphne smiled at her, and Ruth looked at her with an expression Amber couldn’t quite read. Amber noticed that Jackson had just come back into the room, and she hoped he had seen the exchange. Bella ripped off the wrapping paper and opened the box. She held up the pink sweater with a white faux-fur collar and the small pink handbag with its shiny handle and smiled. She ran to Amber and flung her arms around her waist. “I love you, Amber. You’re my best friend ever.”

Everyone laughed at this show of affection, but Amber noticed that Ruth didn’t seem as amused as the rest of the guests. Tallulah was nearing the end of the presents, the last one a small box from Sabine. “Ooh, Sabine, je suis très heureuse. Merci.” Tallulah held up a gold chain with a slender cross.

“De rien,” Sabine said.

The local glitterati soon began arriving to pick up their little rich kids, who had once again been treated to splendiferous entertainment, yummy food, and expensive swag bags. No wonder they all grew up with a sense of entitlement. They knew nothing else.

After all the guests had gone, Surrey, the other nanny, gathered up the presents.

“Would you take the gifts upstairs with the girls? If you bathe them and get them into pajamas, we’ll have a light dinner around six,” Daphne instructed her.

Jackson poured himself another scotch. “Can I get anyone a drink?”

“I’ll have a glass of wine, sweetheart,” Daphne said. “Mom, would you like anything?”

“I’ll have a club soda.”

Jackson looked at Amber. “And you?”

“May I have a glass of wine too?”

Jackson laughed. “You may have anything you want.”

That’s what I’m hoping, Amber thought, but she simply smiled back at him.

“Daphne, have you showed Amber the photos from the fund-raiser?” Ruth said, then looked at Amber. “There were some very good ones in the Bishops Harbor Times. You look very pretty in one of them.”

Amber’s heart stopped. Photos? In a newspaper? She’d been so careful to avoid the photographer that night. When had he gotten a picture of her? Daphne brought the newspaper in and handed it to her. She picked it up with trembling hands and scanned the pictures. There she was, large as life, completely recognizable. Her name wasn’t there, not that it would have mattered — her face was the problem. She just had to assume that this small-town newspaper with its limited range would not be seen farther afield.

“Would you excuse me?” She needed to get out of that room and calm her nerves. She closed the bathroom door, put the lid down on the toilet seat, and sat with her head in her hands. How could she have been so careless? After a while, her breathing settled and she promised herself she would be more vigilant in the future. She splashed some water on her face, stood up straight, and slowly opened the door. She could hear Ruth and Daphne as she walked back to the conservatory.

“Mom, you don’t understand. I have my hands full here.”

“You’re right, Daphne, I don’t understand. You used to love singing in the church choir. It seems to me you don’t do any of the things you used to love. You’ve let all this money go to your head. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll remember your roots and come down off your high horse.”

“That’s completely unfair. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know what I see — two nannies, for heaven’s sake. And one that just speaks French. Really! A daughter who’s spoiled rotten that you can’t control. The club, all your lessons. For goodness sake, I practically have to make an appointment to see my granddaughters. What’s happened to you?”

“That’s enough, Mother.”

For the first time, Amber heard real fury in Daphne’s voice. And then the sound of the nanny and the girls coming down the stairs. They all entered the conservatory at the same time, and the conversation between mother and daughter abruptly ended.

Bella ran to Daphne, putting her head on her mother’s lap. Her cries were muted, and then she looked up and said, “Tallulah got so many presents, and I only got two. It’s not fair.”

Ruth leaned over and stroked Bella’s face. “Bella, darling, it’s Tallulah’s birthday. When it’s your birthday, you’ll get all the presents. Right?”

Bella jerked away from her grandmother’s hand. “No. You’re ugly.”

“Bella!” Daphne seemed horrified.

Jackson suddenly appeared, strode over to the sofa, and picked Bella up. She wiggled and squirmed, but he held her tightly and she finally was still. He put her down on the other side of the room and, kneeling so they were eye level, spoke quietly to her. After a few minutes, they came back together, and Bella stood before her grandmother.

“I’m very sorry, Grandmamma,” she said, and bowed her head.

Ruth gave Daphne a triumphant look and took Bella’s hand. “I forgive you, Bella. But you mustn’t say things like that in the future.”

Bella looked at her father and got only a stern look in return. “Yes, Grandmamma.”

Margarita peered into the room and announced that dinner was ready. Jackson took Ruth’s arm, and the two of them marched into the dining room together, Bella and Tallulah right behind them. As Daphne rose, Amber gave her a pat on the shoulder.

“It’s been a long day. Bella’s just overtired. Don’t let them all get to you,” she said to her.

“Sometimes that’s really hard,” Daphne said.

“You’re a wonderful mom. Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not.”

“Thanks, Amber. You’re such a good friend.”

In a way, Daphne was a wonderful mother. She gave her kids everything, especially love and affection. She was certainly a better mother than Amber’s, who’d made it clear every day of her life that her kids were a loathsome burden.

“Don’t leave yet. Stay and have dinner with us,” Daphne said.

Amber wasn’t sure that dinner with an exhausted, exasperated Bella and a disapproving grandmother was going to further her plans in any way. “I’d love to, Daph, but I have tons of laundry and cleaning to do. Thanks for asking, though.”

“Oh, all right,” Daphne said, linking her arm in Amber’s. “At least come to the dining room and say good night to everyone.”

She obediently followed Daphne into the room where the family was all seated and being served by Margarita.

“Good night, all,” Amber said, waving her hand. “It was a wonderful party.”

A chorus of farewells came from the group, and then Jackson’s smooth voice rang out. “Good night, Amber. See you tomorrow at the office.”

Nineteen

Amber dressed carefully for her first day at Parrish International. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore plain gold-colored hoop earrings and minimal makeup. Getting up at four o’clock to catch the 5:30 train was murder, but she had to make a good impression. How anyone could stand doing this on a long-term basis was beyond her. Hopefully, it would only be temporary.

The glass tower that housed Jackson’s company was enormous, and she marveled that he owned it. It must have cost a fortune to own a building like this in Manhattan. The lobby was empty except for security, and she nodded as she scanned her identity badge and was green-lighted through the turnstile. When she reached the thirtieth floor, she was surprised to see a few people already in their offices. She’d have to get an even earlier train tomorrow. Her tiny cubicle was outside her boss’s office. She would be reporting to his first assistant, Mrs. Battley, or Mrs. Battle-Ax as Amber thought of her after their meeting last week at orientation. The Battle-Ax was somewhere between sixty-five and seventy-five with steel-wool-gray hair, thick glasses, and thin lips. She was the very definition of no-nonsense, and Amber hated her on sight. She had made it clear that she wasn’t pleased that Amber had been thrust upon her. It was going to be a challenge getting the old bird to like her.

“Good morning, Mrs. Battley. I’m going to get some coffee. Would you like some?”

She didn’t look up from her laptop. “No. I’ve already had my one cup. I have some filing for you, so please see me when you’ve gotten yours.” Amber cast a discreet glance in the direction of Jackson’s corner office. His door was closed, but she could see movement through the slatted blinds covering one glass wall.

“Do you need something?” Battley’s gravelly voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Sorry, no. My coffee can wait. I’ll take the filing now.”

“Here you are,” she said, handing Amber a pile of papers. “And here’s a list of new clients to add to the database. I’ve left instructions on your desk on how to do so. You’ll also need to add their websites and all social media channels to their profiles.”

Amber took the folder and returned to her tiny cube. She’d traded in her office with a window view for this claustrophobic cube, but at least now her plan was progressing. The hours passed as she immersed herself in her work, determined to be the most efficient assistant Old Battle-Ax had ever had. She’d brought a bag lunch and ate at her desk, working without a break. At six o’clock, Battley was standing at her cube with her coat on.

“I didn’t realize you were still here, Amber. You can leave at five, you know.”

She stood up and gathered her things. “I wanted to finish up. I like to come in to a clean desk in the morning.”

This actually elicited a smile from the older woman. “Quite right. I’ve always felt the same way.”

She turned to leave, but Amber called out, “I’ll walk down with you.”

They walked in silence to the elevator bank, and when they got on, Amber gave her a shy smile.

“I want to thank you for giving me this chance. You don’t know how much it means to me.”

Battley raised her eyebrows. “Don’t thank me. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Mrs. Parrish told me how valuable your opinion is to Mr. Parrish,” Amber said. “She made it quite clear that I was here on a probationary basis. If you don’t find me up to snuff, then I’ll have to look elsewhere.”

Amber could tell that the woman’s pride made her believe this bullshit. Battley stood a little straighter. “We shall see, then.”

Yes, we shall, Amber thought.

After a month, she’d still had no direct contact with Jackson, but Old Battle-Ax had begun to rely on her more and more. Amber would arrive at least fifteen minutes before her, so that she could bring Battley her morning coffee with a little something extra in it. Amber had a three-month supply of Elavil from her internist. She had told him that she was having panic attacks, and he’d recommended it. He did mention some possible side effects: short-term memory loss and confusion. She’d started dosing low, and hoped that Battley’s predilection for flavored creamer obscured any trace of the pills in her coffee.

Battley arrived that morning, seemingly more confused than normal. Amber noticed that her pace had become slower and that she paused often, looking around her desk as if unsure of what to do next.

When Battley got up to go to the bathroom, Amber quickly went into her office and took the woman’s keys from her purse and moved them. She then refiled a folder that was sitting on her desk. Battley came back to her office and searched for the missing file, panic in her eyes. At the end of the day, Battley opened her purse and looked inside. Amber watched as she moved the contents around and finally poured everything out on her desk. No keys. She looked stricken. “Amber,” she called. “Have you seen my keys?”

Amber hurried into Battley’s office. “No, I haven’t. Aren’t they in your handbag?”

“No,” she said, almost in tears.

“Here,” Amber said, taking the purse from the desk. “Let me look.” She pretended to root around. “Hmm. You’re right. Not here.” She stood a moment as if thinking. “Have you looked in your drawers?”

“Of course not. I never take them from my pocketbook. I would never put them in my desk,” she insisted.

“Why don’t we look, just in case.”

“Ridiculous,” Battley huffed, but opened the drawer. “See, they’re not there.”

Amber leaned over to look and then glanced past them, at the wastebasket next to the file cabinet. She pulled it toward her.

“They’re in the trash can.” Amber reached in and pulled them out, handing them to Battley.

Battley stood still, staring at the ring of keys in her hand as she swallowed hard. It was apparent that the woman was distraught, but all she said was good night before turning and leaving without another word. Amber smiled as she watched her walk away.

A few days later Amber rearranged the cards in Battley’s Rolodex — she must have been the last person on earth to still have one. As the weeks wore on, the stress was having the intended effect — a haunted look of constant worry was in the older woman’s eyes. Amber felt a little bad about what she was doing, but the woman really needed to retire. Her time would have been much better spent with her grandkids. She’d told Amber she had five and complained that she didn’t get to see them enough. Now she’d get to be with them more, and Jackson would probably give her a good retirement package — especially if he believed she had dementia. Amber was doing her a favor, really.

And didn’t Jackson deserve someone more hip and this-century helping him out? He was probably keeping her on out of loyalty. Amber was doing them both a favor, when she thought about it. This morning, she’d printed off a paper with gibberish and slipped it in between the pages of a report Battley had just finished. She knew the woman would think she’d really lost it when she saw it, and of course, she’d never mention it to anyone. Amber figured it would only take another few weeks. Between her eroding self-confidence and the mistakes she was soon to make, arousing Jackson’s suspicions, Amber would be sitting pretty in Battley’s office in no time.

Twenty

It took much longer than Amber anticipated, but after three months, it had all become too much for Battley, and she handed in her resignation. Amber was now filling in while Jackson began the search for a new head assistant. She was still in her tiny cubicle, while Battley’s office remained vacant, and while it bothered Amber that he hadn’t yet considered letting her step in permanently, she was confident he would soon find her indispensable. She had already spent the past seven nights learning everything she could about his newest clients from Tokyo — it was amazing what people put on their social media profiles. Even if they did have the smarts to set up their privacy settings properly, what they didn’t realize was that every photo they were tagged in linked to someone else’s page, and not everyone was as diligent. Between using her background-check software and trolling all the social sites, she had a comprehensive picture of each of them, including their disgusting predilections. She had also conducted a thorough search of their recent business deals to get an idea of their negotiating skills and any tricks they might have up their sleeves.

Jackson summoned her to his office, and she gathered the report on the client. He was leaning back in his black leather chair, reading something on his iPhone. His jacket was off and his shirtsleeves rolled up, showing off his tanned forearms. The Parrishes had just returned from Antibes. She figured they were able to practice the French language they seemed to worship. He didn’t look up as she entered the office.

“I’m slammed today, but I forgot Bella’s play at camp is this afternoon. I have to duck out after lunch. Move my appointments.”

What must it be like to have a powerful father who cared enough about you to take time from his busy schedule to come to your play? And the little brat appreciated nothing. “Of course.”

“Did you make reservations at Catch for Tanaka and his team tomorrow?”

“Actually, no.”

His head snapped up. She had his full attention. “What?”

“I made them at Del Posto. Tanaka loves Italian, and he’s allergic to shellfish.”

He looked at her with interest. “Really? How do you know that?”

She handed him her report. “I took the liberty of doing some research. On my own time, of course,” she added quickly. “I thought it would be helpful. With social media it’s not that hard to find things out.”

He smiled widely, giving her a glimpse of his perfect teeth, and reached out for the report. After thumbing through it, he looked up again. “Amber, I’m very impressed. Great initiative. This is fantastic.”

She beamed. She bet Battley didn’t even know how to use Facebook.

She stood up. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll go take care of sorting your appointments.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, immersed in the report again.

She was making progress with him, although she was a little disappointed that he didn’t seem to notice how good her legs looked in the short skirt and high heels she’d worn that day. He was that rare commodity — a man who only had eyes for his wife. Daphne, on the other hand, seemed complacent, like she took it for granted that he worshipped her. It irritated Amber. It was obvious to her that Daphne wasn’t as passionate about Jackson as he was about her, and that she really didn’t deserve him.

She opened up Jackson’s calendar on her computer and began contacting his afternoon appointments to reschedule. As she was about to make another call, he appeared.

“Amber, why don’t you sit in Mrs. Battley’s office until we find her replacement? It’ll be more convenient to have you right outside. Give Facilities a call; they can move your things.”

“Thank you, I will.”

She watched him as he strode away, his Brioni suit looking as though it had been hand-crafted by the gods. She wondered what it would be like to wear a garment that cost more than some people made in a year.

She picked up her phone and texted Daphne.

Are you free tomorrow? Would love to meet for a drink.

Her text tone sounded. Sure. I’ll have Tommy pick you up and we can go to Sparta’s. Seven thirty good?

Great! See you tomorrow.

If Daphne was having Tommy drive them, it meant she was in the mood to drink, which was perfect because Amber was ready to get her to spill her guts. She had discovered that after one martini Daphne became much more relaxed, making it easy to pour a few more down her throat.

Twenty-One

The Parrish Town Car was waiting outside her apartment right on time. She was about to call out a hello to Daphne when she realized the backseat was empty.

“Where’s Mrs. Parrish?” she asked Tommy as he opened the door for her.

“Mr. Parrish came home unexpectedly. She asked me to collect you and drop you at Sparta’s, then swing around for her.”

She felt annoyance choke out her good mood. Why hadn’t Daphne just called and asked if they could move the time back? She felt like an appointment being handled. And why should it matter that Jackson came home? Why didn’t Daphne just tell him she already had plans? Where was her backbone?

When she got to the bar, she chose a cozy table in the corner and ordered the 2007 Sassicaia. It was $210, but Daphne would be picking up the bill, and it served her right for making Amber wait. She took a sip of the red delight and savored the opulent flavor. It was amazing.

She looked around as the lounge began to fill and wondered if any of Daphne’s so-called friends would be coming in tonight. She hoped not — she wanted Daphne all to herself.

Daphne finally arrived, looking harried and, frankly, a little unkempt. Her hair was a bit frizzy and her makeup splotchy.

“I’m sorry, Amber. Just as I was leaving, Jackson came in, and…” She threw her hands up. “Not even worth getting into. I need a drink.” She glanced at the bottle, and a little frown furrowed her brow.

“I hope you don’t mind that I ordered a bottle. I forgot my reading glasses and couldn’t really see that well, so I asked the waiter for a recommendation.”

Daphne started to say something and then seemed to think better of it. “It’s fine.”

A glass appeared, and she poured herself a generous serving. “Mmm. Delish.” She took a deep breath. “So, how are things going at Parrish International? Jackson tells me you’re proving to be quite valuable.”

Amber studied her for any traces of suspicion or jealousy but saw none. Daphne looked genuinely happy for her, but there was also a touch of concern in her face.

“Is everyone treating you well? No problems, right?”

Amber was surprised by the question. “No, none at all. I’m loving it. Thank you so much for recommending me. It’s so different from Rollins. And everyone is really nice. So, what was the big emergency?”

“What?”

“Jackson coming home — what did he need that disrupted your plans?”

“Nothing. He just wanted a few minutes with me before I went out.”

Amber arched an eyebrow. “A few minutes for what?”

Daphne turned red.

“Oh, that. He can’t seem to get enough of you. That’s pretty amazing. You’ve been married, what, nine years?”

“Twelve.”

Amber could tell she was making Daphne uncomfortable, so she switched tactics. She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Consider yourself lucky. One of the reasons I left home was because of my boyfriend, Marco.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was crazy about him. We’d been dating since high school. He was the only one I’d ever been with, so I didn’t know.”

Now Daphne was bending closer. “Didn’t know what?”

She squirmed and made herself look embarrassed. “That it wasn’t normal. You know. That guys should sort of be… ready. I had to do things just to help him be able to make love to me. He told me I wasn’t pretty enough to get him excited without some help.” She was laying it on pretty thick, but it seemed like Daphne believed it.

“The last straw was when he asked me to bring another man into the bedroom.”

“What?” Daphne’s mouth fell open.

“Yeah. Turned out he was gay. Didn’t want to admit it or something. You know how those small towns can be.”

“Have you dated anyone since?”

“A few guys here and there, but no one serious. Truthfully, I’m a little nervous about sleeping with someone again. What if I find out that it really was me?”

Daphne shook her head. “That’s crazy, Amber. His sexual orientation had nothing to do with you. And you’re lovely. When you find the right man, you’ll know it.”

“Is that how you felt when you found Jackson?”

Daphne paused a moment, taking a sip of her wine. “Well… I guess Jackson swept me off my feet. My father became ill after we began dating, and Jackson was my rock. After that, things moved really quickly, and before I knew it, we were married. I never expected it. He dated sophisticated and accomplished women. I wasn’t quite sure what he saw in me.”

“Come on, Daph, you’re gorgeous.”

“That’s sweet, but so were they. And they were wealthy and worldly. I was just a girl from a small town. I didn’t know anything about his world.”

“So what do you think it was that made you special?”

Daphne refilled her wineglass and took a long swallow. “I think he liked having a blank canvas. I was young, only twenty-six, and he was ten years older. I was so focused on building Julie’s Smile, I wasn’t taken in by him. He told me later that he never knew whether the women he went out with wanted him or his money.”

Amber found that hard to believe. Even if he’d been dead broke, he was still gorgeous, brilliant, and charming. “How did he know you didn’t care about his money?”

“I actually tried to cool things off. He didn’t really turn my head. But then, he was so wonderful to my family, and they all encouraged me not to let him get away.”

“See, you are lucky. Look how wonderful it turned out. You have such a great life.”

Daphne smiled. “Nobody’s life is perfect, Amber.”

“It sure seems it. It looks as close to perfect as you can pretty well get.”

“I’m very fortunate. I have two healthy children. That’s something I never take for granted.”

Amber wanted to keep things focused on marriage. “Yes, of course. But your relationship seems like a fairy tale from the outside. Jackson looks at you like he worships you.”

“He’s very attentive. I suppose sometimes I just need a little breathing room. It can feel confining, having to fit into the mold of the CEO’s wife. He has high expectations. Sometimes I’d like to just sit around and watch House of Cards instead of going to another charity function or business event.”

Oh, boohoo, Amber thought. It must be so hard to have to dress up in designer gowns and drink expensive wine and munch on caviar. She mustered a sympathetic look. “I can see that. I would feel so out of place having to do all that. But you make it look so easy. Did it take you long to fit in?”

“The first couple of years were rough. But Meredith came to my rescue. She helped me navigate the treacherous social circles here in Bishops Harbor.” She laughed. “Once you have Meredith on your side, everyone falls into line. She’s been the foundation’s staunchest supporter — until you, that is.”

“You must have felt very lucky. Sort of like I feel having you.”

“Exactly.”

The bottle was empty, and Amber was about to suggest they order another when Daphne’s phone lit up with a text.

She scanned it, then looked at Amber apologetically.

“It’s Bella. She’s had a nightmare. I need to go home.”

That little brat. Even when she wasn’t present, she was messing up Amber’s plans.

“Oh, poor darling. Does that happen often?”

Daphne shook her head. “Not too often. Sorry to have to cut our evening short. If you don’t mind, I’ll have Tommy take me right away, then drop you home.”

“Of course. Give her a kiss from Aunt Amber,” Amber said, throwing it out there. Why not elevate her status?

Daphne squeezed her hand as they walked out to the waiting car. “I like that. I will.”

Although she was disappointed that she wouldn’t get another glass of that divine wine, she’d gotten some of what she’d wanted: the beginning of a profile of Jackson’s perfect woman. She would build it, tidbit by tidbit, until she was an exact replica of what he found irresistible.

Only she would be a newer, younger version.

Twenty-Two

Amber inhaled the intoxicating smell of the ocean. It was a perfectly gorgeous Sunday morning, and she and Daphne had already been out on the water for the last hour. Jackson was in Brussels on business, and Daphne had invited Amber to spend the weekend. She had been slightly dubious when Daphne suggested they go kayaking, as she’d never done it before and wasn’t sure she wanted her first foray to be on the deep waters of Long Island Sound. But she’d had nothing to worry about. The water was still as glass when they started out, and within a half hour, Amber was feeling sure and confident. They stayed close to the shore at first, and Amber marveled at the peacefulness of the early-morning quiet, the only sounds birdsong and the lapping of water against their paddles. Everything was still, so wonderfully devoid of the bustle and noise of everyday life. They glided along beside each other, both silent and content.

“Shall we go out a little farther?” Daphne broke the silence.

“I guess so. Is it safe?”

“Perfectly.”

Amber worked to keep up with Daphne’s sure strokes, breathing hard as she exerted herself. She was impressed with Daphne’s stamina. As they moved farther from shore, the water took on an entirely different aura. The first time a boat passed them, she thought she would be swamped by its wake, but the second time it happened, she got an adrenaline rush riding the small swells.

“I love this, Daph. I’m so glad you made me come.”

“I knew you’d like it. I’m glad. Now I’ll have a partner. Jackson doesn’t really enjoy kayaking. He’d rather be on the boat.”

Well, Amber thought, the boat would be good too. She hadn’t been on his Hatteras yet, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before she got an invitation.

“Don’t you like the boat?” Amber asked.

“Oh sure, I like it, but it’s a completely different experience. It needed some work before going back into the water. Should be sometime in late June. We’ll all go out together. Then you can make your own judgment.”

“What’s the name of it?”

“Bellatada,” Daphne answered, her smile holding a touch of embarrassment.

Amber thought for a minute. “Oh, I get it. The beginning of each of your names. Jackson’s three girls.”

“A little silly, I guess.”

“Not at all. I think it’s sweet.” Inwardly she was choking on her words.

“Shall we head back? It’s almost ten.” Daphne looked at her watch and adjusted her visor.

It didn’t take long to reach the beach in front of the house and deposit the kayaks. As they walked up the path to the house, the sounds of laughter and girlish squeals reached them. Bella and Tallulah were splashing around in the swimming pool with their father.

Amber turned to Daphne. “I thought Jackson was coming back tonight.”

“Me too,” Daphne said and picked up her pace.

He looked up and ran a hand through his wet hair. “Hello, you two. Been out kayaking?”

“We have. When did you get home? I’m sorry I wasn’t here, but I thought you were coming in tonight,” Daphne said, sounding strained.

“We finished up last night, so I decided to fly home this morning.” Bella was holding on to his back and splashing with her feet. He turned to grab her, and she squealed with delight as he tossed her back into the water. She pushed up through the water and swam to him. “More, Daddy.”

But he began walking to the shallow end of the pool, wiping the water from his face. “That’s all, sweetie. Time to take a break.”

For once there was no obnoxious complaining from Bella. It had to have been a first.

Jackson handed towels to the girls and started drying himself with his own. It was impossible not to look at his body, wet and glistening, as he stepped closer to Daphne and kissed her. “It’s good to be home,” he said.

Daphne had asked Amber to spend the day, but now that Jackson was home, Amber knew she had to deliver the obligatory I-don’t-want-to-be-in-the-way speech. “I had a great time kayaking, Daph. Thanks a bunch. I’m going to let you have your family time now.”

“What do you mean? You can’t leave yet.”

“I really should. I’m sure Jackson would like to be alone with you and the girls.”

“Nonsense. You know how he feels about you. You’re like family. Come on. We’ll have fun.”

“Absolutely,” Jackson said. “You’re more than welcome to stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Daphne said. “Let’s go inside and make lunch. Margarita is off this weekend, so we’re the cooks.”

They worked together in the kitchen, but when they finished loading the tortillas with refried beans, veggies, and cheese, they didn’t end up with neat and beautiful burritos like Margarita’s.

“They look pretty sad, don’t they?” Daphne said with a laugh.

“What the heck. They’ll taste good, anyway.” Amber washed her hands and tore off a section of paper toweling while Daphne reached into a cabinet and pulled out two trays. “Here we go. I think everything will fit. We’ll eat outside by the pool.”

“Oooh, yummy,” Bella called as they carried the food out.

They sat, the five of them, under the large umbrella, the reflection of the sun on the turquoise pool water making shimmery diamonds and triangles. A slight breeze sliced through the warmth — a perfect late-spring day. Amber closed her eyes a moment, pretending this all belonged to her. If anything, the last few weeks had shown her that Daphne now considered Amber her closest friend and confidante. Last night, after the girls had gone to bed, she and Daphne had sat at the kitchen table and talked late into the night. Daphne had told her all about her childhood, how much her parents had tried to make their lives seem completely normal despite the illness that crouched in the background, ready to pounce without warning at any moment.

“Mom and Dad encouraged Julie to do everything healthy kids can. They gave her the freedom to live her life the way she wanted, to try all the things she wanted to,” Daphne had said.

At first, when Daphne talked about all the hospital stays, the hacking coughs that brought up gloppy mucus, the runny bowels and trouble digesting food, Amber had begun to feel sympathy. But when she compared her own childhood to Daphne’s, and even Julie’s, her resentment returned. At least Julie had grown up in a nice house with money and parents who cared about her. Okay, she was sick and then she died. So what? A lot of people were sick. A lot of people died. Was that a reason to make them saints? How about Amber and what she’d gone through? Didn’t she deserve a little sympathy too?

She looked around the table at all of them. Bella, lazing back in her chair and swinging her legs back and forth, taking distracted bites out of her burrito without a care in the world, the pampered and indulged child of wealth. Tallulah, sitting up straight and concentrating on the lunch before her. Daphne, sun-kissed and casually beautiful, making sure her brood had refills and napkins and anything else they needed. And Jackson, the master of it all, sitting like a knighted lord watching over his vast domain and faultless family. Suddenly the terrible emptiness inside Amber was a physical gnawing, as if the very life were being squeezed from her. This was no time to go soft. She would win this time.

Twenty-Three

Things were so busy at work that Amber hadn’t seen Daphne in two weeks, since their kayaking day. But Jackson was out of town again, so she’d called Daphne to see if she’d like to see a movie, and Daphne had invited her to the house instead.

She had started fantasizing about the day the house would belong to her. She wanted to leave her mark on it everywhere. On one occasion, when Daphne left her at the house alone to go pick up the girls, she’d tried on every pair of Daphne’s underwear. Sometimes she’d go upstairs and use Daphne’s bathroom, brush her hair with Daphne’s brush, apply a little of her lipstick. They almost looked the same, she would think as she looked in the mirror at herself.

She arrived right at seven. Bella opened the door a crack and peeked out.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hi, sweetie. Mommy invited me over.”

Bella rolled her eyes. “We’re watching The Wizard of Oz tonight. Don’t try and change it to some boring adult movie.” She opened the door, then turned her back on Amber.

Now Amber rolled her eyes. The Wizard of Oz. If she had to listen to Dorothy keep saying “There’s no place like home,” she might kill herself.

“There you are. Bella said you were here. Come on in the kitchen.” Daphne appeared, looking perfect in a romper that looked very much like a Stella McCartney Amber had seen in a recent Vogue.

Amber sat down at the enormous marble island.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure, whatever you’re having.”

Daphne poured her a glass of chardonnay from the open bottle.

“Cheers.” Daphne raised her glass.

Amber took a small sip. “I understand we’ve got The Wizard of Oz on tap for tonight.”

Daphne gave her an apologetic look. “Yes, sorry. I forgot I’d promised the girls.” She lowered her voice so Bella wouldn’t hear. “Once we’re half an hour in, we can sneak into the other room and chat. They won’t notice.”

Whatever, Amber thought.

The doorbell rang. “Is someone else coming?” Amber asked.

Daphne shook her head. “I’m not expecting anyone. Be right back.”

A minute later, Amber heard voices, and then Meredith was there, following Daphne back into the kitchen. She looked determined.

“Hi, Meredith,” Amber greeted her, feeling uneasy

Daphne had a look of concern on her face and put a hand on Amber’s arm. “Meredith says she needs to talk to us in private.”

Amber’s thoughts raced. Could she have discovered the truth? Maybe the photo from the fund-raiser had been her undoing after all. She took a deep breath to stop the hammering in her chest. No need to get upset until she heard what Meredith had to say. She rose from her stool.

“Margarita, could you please feed the girls now? We’ll be back in a little while.” Daphne turned to Amber and Meredith. “Let’s go into the study.”

Amber’s heart was still pounding as she followed them down the hallway and into the wood-paneled study. She stared straight ahead at the wall of books, willing herself to be calm.

“Let’s all have a seat.” Daphne pulled out a chair and sat at the mahogany card table in the corner of the room. Amber and Meredith followed suit.

Meredith looked at Amber as she spoke. “As you know, I run all our committee applications through a background check.”

“Didn’t you do that months ago?” Daphne interrupted.

Meredith put a hand up. “Yes, I thought I had. Apparently the agency misfiled Amber’s. They ran it last week and called me today.”

“And?” Daphne prodded.

“And when they ran the social, they discovered that Amber Patterson has been missing for four years.” She held up a copy of a missing person flyer, with a photo of a young woman with dark hair and a round face, who looked nothing like Amber.

“What? That must be some sort of mistake,” Daphne said.

Amber kept quiet, but her heartbeat slowed. So that was all. She could work with this.

Meredith sat up straighter. “No mistake. I called the Eustis, Nebraska, records department. Same social security number.” She pulled out a photocopy of an article from the Clipper-Herald with the headline “Amber Patterson Still Missing” and handed it to Daphne. “Want to tell us about it, Amber, or whatever your name is?”

Amber put her hands up to her face and cried real tears of panic. “It’s not what you think.” She choked back a sob.

“What is it, then?” Meredith’s tone was steely.

Amber sniffled and wiped her nose. “I can explain. But not to her.” She spat out the last word.

“Give it up, girl.” Meredith’s voice rose. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

“Meredith, please. This isn’t helping,” Daphne said. “Amber, calm down. I’m sure there’s a good explanation. Tell me what this is all about.”

Amber sank back into the chair, hoping she looked as distraught as she felt. “I know it looks bad. I didn’t want to have to tell anyone. But I had to get away.”

“Away from what?” Meredith insisted, and Amber shrank back more.

“Meredith, please let me ask the questions,” Daphne said and put her hand gently on Amber’s knee. “What were you running away from, sweetie?”

Amber closed her eyes and sighed. “My father.”

Daphne looked like she’d been struck. “Your father? Did he hurt you?”

Amber hung her head as she spoke. “I’m so ashamed to tell you this. He… he raped me.”

Daphne gasped.

“I’ve never told another soul.”

“Oh my God,” Daphne said. “I’m so sorry.”

“It went on for years, from the time I was ten. He left Charlene alone as long as I was around and didn’t tell. That’s why I had to stay. I couldn’t let him hurt her.”

“That’s horrible… couldn’t you tell your mother?”

She sniffled. “I tried. But she didn’t believe me, said I was just trying to get attention, and she’d whip my butt if I ever told anyone else such a ‘vile lie.’” A quick glance out of the corner of her eye assured her that Daphne believed her, but Meredith looked unconvinced.

“So what happened exactly?” Meredith’s voice sounded almost mocking, and Amber saw Daphne give her a look.

“I stayed until Charlene died. He told me if I left, he’d hunt me down and kill me. So I had to change my name. I hitchhiked to Nebraska and met a guy in a bar. He found me a roommate. I worked waitressing and saved my money until I had enough to come here and start over. He worked at the hall of records and got me the information on the missing girl, introduced me to someone who made me an ID in Amber’s name.”

Amber waited a beat for the women to respond.

To her great relief, Daphne rose and took her in her arms. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

Meredith wasn’t letting it go, though. “What? Daphne, do you mean to tell me you’re just going to take her word for it and not investigate? I can’t believe this.”

Daphne’s eyes were cold. “Please go, Meredith. I’ll call you later.”

“You have a blind spot where she’s concerned.” Meredith walked to the door in a huff and turned around before she left. “Mark my words, Daphne — this will not end well.”

Daphne took Amber’s hand. “Don’t you worry. No one will ever hurt you again.”

“What about Meredith? What if she tells people?”

“You let me worry about Meredith. I’ll make sure she doesn’t breathe a word.”

“Please don’t tell anyone, Daphne. I have to keep pretending I’m Amber. You don’t know how he is. He’ll find me, wherever I am.”

Daphne nodded. “I won’t tell another soul, not even Jackson.”

Amber felt a little guilty for painting her father in such a bad light. After all, he’d worked nonstop at the cleaner’s to support her mother and her three sisters, and he would never have touched any of his daughters. Of course, he’d also made all of them work at that damn store for free, which she was pretty sure was child slave labor, close enough to child abuse. So what if he never touched her? He still took advantage of her.

Suddenly she didn’t feel so guilty anymore. She raised her head from Daphne’s shoulder and looked her in the eye. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like you. Thank you for always being there for me.”

Daphne smiled and smoothed Amber’s hair. “You’d do the same for me.”

Amber gave her a forlorn smile and nodded.

Daphne started to walk from the room, then turned back. “I’ll tell Bella that The Wizard of Oz will have to wait. I think you deserve to pick tonight.”

Amber smiled a genuine smile — she couldn’t wait to see the look of disappointment on the little princess’s face. “That would really help me get my mind off things.”

Twenty-Four

Growing up, Amber had always hated the Fourth of July. The only good thing about that day was that her father closed the dry cleaner’s. She and her three sisters would watch the parade — the high school marching band that was always screechingly off-key, at least one majorette who would drop her batons, and some plump-faced farm girl who would wave with glee from a hay-filled wagon. It was all so hokey and embarrassing, Amber cringed every time.

But this year was different. Quite different. Amber sat with Daphne on the back deck of the Parrishes’ sixty-five-foot Hatteras as it sped across the Sound. They were spending the entire weekend on the boat, and Amber was over the moon. She’d gone shopping with Daphne and spent more than she had planned, but she wanted to look her absolute best every moment since she’d be near Jackson twenty-four/seven. She bought a new white bikini and then splurged on a one-piece black suit with a long, low V in the front and cutouts on the sides. It was one of the sexiest suits she’d ever seen, and Daphne had nodded her approval when Amber walked out from the dressing room. Her cover-up was sheer, so her body would never be hidden from him. For when they went ashore, she’d gotten white shorts that barely covered her buttocks and tank tops that clung just a bit. She’d brought skinny white pants for evening, a few T-shirts, and a casual navy sweater to throw over her shoulders. She’d even gotten a spray tan. This was her time to shine.

Jackson stood at the controls, his legs tanned and muscular, in a pair of khaki shorts and white golf shirt. He moved with utter confidence and mastery. He turned to where Daphne and Amber sat and called to them over the noise, “Hey, sweetheart, can you get me a beer?”

Daphne reached into the cooler and brought out a can of Gordon Ale, dripping with cold water. She had to admit, Daphne’s black bikini showed off her perfect body to its best advantage. She had hoped Daphne would be wearing something more matronly, but no such luck. Daphne handed it to Amber. “Here, why don’t you give it to him? You can get a lesson on how to handle a boat.”

Amber took the can from Daphne and jumped up. “Sure…. Hey.” She tapped Jackson on the shoulder. “Here’s your beer.”

“Thanks.” He opened it, took a sip, and Amber noticed his long fingers and fine hands, immediately imagining them on her body.

“Daphne said you’d give me a boat-driving lesson,” she said coyly.

“Boat driving. Is that what she called it?” He laughed.

“Well, maybe not. I can’t remember.”

“Here,” he said, moving slightly to the right. “Take the wheel.”

“What? No. What if we crash?”

“You’re cute. What are we going to crash into? You really don’t have to move it much. Just point the end of the bow in the direction you want to go and don’t make any sudden jerking moves.”

She put her hands on the wheel and concentrated on the water, her nerves subsiding a bit as she got the feel of it.

“Good,” he said. “Steady as you go.”

“This is fun,” she said, throwing her head back and laughing. “I could do this all day.”

Jackson patted her on the back. “Great. It’s good to have a partner up here. Daphne isn’t crazy about the boat. Prefers the kayak.”

Amber widened her eyes. “Really? I can’t imagine that. This is way better than kayaking.”

“Maybe you can convince my wife of that.” He took another sip of ale and looked back to where Daphne sat, quietly reading The Portrait of a Lady.

Amber followed his gaze and put a reassuring hand on his arm. “I’m sure she likes it more than you think. I know I would.”

She stayed at the wheel for the next hour, asking questions and praising Jackson for his depth of navigation knowledge. She made him promise to show her the charts later, so she could study them and learn about the waters around Connecticut. And every now and then, she’d move close enough that her body would barely touch his. When she thought it might be too obvious, she turned the wheel back over to Jackson and went back to sit with Daphne. They were approaching Mystic, and the sun was beginning to set.

Daphne looked up from her book. “Well, you seemed to be enjoying yourself. Did you learn a lot?”

Amber searched Daphne’s face for any sign of annoyance, but she seemed genuinely delighted that Amber was having a good time. “I liked it,” she said. “Jackson knows so much.”

“This boat is his favorite thing. He’d be on it every weekend if I let him.”

“You don’t love it, do you?”

“I like it. I just don’t like spending all my time on it. We have a beautiful home, the beach, and a pool. I like being there. On the boat there’s just endless water, and it takes so much time to get anywhere. I start to get bored. And the girls begin to get antsy too. It’s a small space, and it’s hard to keep everything in order.”

Amber wondered again at Daphne’s obsession with neatness. Did she ever lighten up and relax?

“Well, you have to admit it’s pretty exciting. The wind rushing through your hair and ripping through the water,” Amber said.

“I especially don’t enjoy speeding. To tell you the truth, I prefer sailing. It’s quiet. I feel much more connected to nature when I’m on a sailboat.”

“Does Jackson like it?” Amber asked.

“Not much. Don’t get me wrong — he’s a good sailor. Knows his stuff. But he can fly at top speed on this, and he likes fishing too.” She pushed her hair back from her face. “My boyfriend in college grew up sailing, so we spent a lot of time on his family’s sailboat. That’s where I learned.”

“I guess I can understand why you’d like that better,” Amber said.

“It’s fine, really. I make sure to bring a good book, and the girls bring games. And of course it’s always fun to have a friend like you aboard.”

“Thanks for asking me, Daph. It’s a real treat for me.”

“You’re welcome,” Daphne said, yawning and rising from her chair. “I’m going below to check on the girls. You don’t mind if I lie down for a few minutes before dinner, do you?”

“Of course not. Go ahead and rest.” Amber watched her go down the stairs and immediately took up her position next to Jackson again. “Daphne’s taking a nap. I think she was getting bored.”

She watched his face for a reaction, but if he had any irritation, he certainly didn’t show it.

“She’s a good sport about it.”

“She is. She was telling me about all the fun she had in college when she and her old boyfriend would go sailing together.” Amber noticed a slight twitch in Jackson’s cheek. “I don’t know. That seems so tame compared to this.”

“Why don’t you have another go? I’ll grab us a couple of drinks.”

She gripped the wheel and felt like she might finally, slowly, be taking control of the helm.

Later that night, after a leisurely dinner in Mystic, the five of them walked back to the marina under a warm, star-studded sky.

“Daddy,” Tallulah said as they ambled. “Are we going to anchor out and watch the fireworks tomorrow night?”

“Absolutely. Just like we always do.”

“Goody,” Bella said. “I want to sit way up on the fly bridge all by myself. I’m old enough now.”

“Not so fast, little one.” Jackson took one of her hands and Daphne grabbed the other, and they swung her between them. “You can’t go alone yet.”

“I want to lie down on the forward deck like I did last year and watch from there,” Tallulah piped up.

“Daddy will sit on the bridge with you, Bella, and I’ll be on deck with Tallulah.” She turned to Amber. “And you should go up with Jackson and Bella. It’s a great place to watch from, especially since this is your first time.”

That’s fine with me, Amber thought.

It was a little past ten when they got back to the boat, and once again, Amber found herself alone with Jackson as Daphne took the children below to get them ready for bed. He had gotten some wine from the galley and was back with three glasses in one hand and the bottle of muscat in the other.

“Too early to finish the night. What do you say we have a glass before turning in?”

“Sounds great,” Amber said.

They sat in the warm night air, sipping wine and chatting about Parrish International’s latest acquisition and how the financing would work. When Daphne appeared, Jackson poured another glass and handed it to her. “Here, sweetheart.”

“No, thank you, darling. I’m feeling rather sleepy. Probably shouldn’t have had such a big meal. I think I’ll hit the sack.”

Actually, Amber thought, Daphne really did look tired. But big meal? She’d hardly touched her food.

“Well, good night, you two.” She smiled at Jackson. “I’ll keep the night-light on for you.”

“I’ll be down soon. You get some rest.”

After she disappeared, Amber poured herself another glass of wine. “I remember how tired my mother used to get, and how she stopped staying up late. My father would joke and say things had really changed from their hot dating days.”

Jackson looked into his glass as he twirled the stem. “Are your parents alive?”

“Yes. They’re back in Nebraska. Daphne reminds me a lot of my mom.”

A faint hint of surprise registered on his face and was quickly replaced by his usual inscrutability. Amber was beginning to realize that he was particularly skilled at keeping his thoughts and feelings hidden.

“How are they alike?”

“Well, they’re both homebodies. My mom liked nothing better than watching a sentimental movie with us kids. A lot of times, when you’re away, Daph invites me over for movie night with Tallulah and Bella. It’s fun, reminds me of home. And I think she gets sort of tired of all these charity events and art openings and all those things. At least, that’s what she tells me.”

“That’s interesting,” Jackson said. “What else?”

“Well, she likes quiet things, my mom, like Daphne. My mom would have hated how fast this boat goes and all the wind in her face. Not that we had boats, but my dad did have a motorcycle. She hated it — the noise and the speed. She preferred her bicycle, slow and quiet.” More crap, but she was making her point.

He was quiet.

“I thought it was thrilling, being at the helm and speeding across the water. But maybe tomorrow we should take it a little slower, so that Daphne enjoys it too.”

“Yes, good idea,” he said idly and finished the wine in his glass.

Things were humming along now. And she hoped that tomorrow night, there would be more fireworks than the ones in the sky.

Twenty-Five

Right after the Fourth of July, Amber finally secured the coveted position of Jackson’s first assistant. The résumés had dwindled, and anything that looked too good, Amber had tossed. She had made herself indispensable to Jackson since Mrs. Battley’s departure, so when he called her into his office, she felt sure it was to tell her she was officially his new assistant. She took a pad and pen with her and sat in a leather armchair across from his desk, careful to cross her black-stockinged legs to their best advantage. She looked at him through thick lashes she had gotten plumped at the aesthetician’s and slightly parted glossy lips. She knew her teeth, recently whitened at the dentist’s, looked perfect against her lips.

Jackson stared at her a moment and then began. “I think you know how helpful you’ve been these last months. I’ve decided to suspend the search for a new assistant and am offering the position to you if you’re interested.”

She wanted to jump up and shout but didn’t betray her glee. “I’m overwhelmed. I’m definitely interested. Thank you.”

“Good. I’ll talk to Human Resources.” He looked down at a document in front of him, clearly dismissing her, and Amber rose. “Oh,” he said, and she stopped and turned around. “Of course, there will be a substantial raise.”

To get close to him, she would have worked there for nothing, but in truth, she had been working damn hard and felt she deserved her now-six-figure salary. It didn’t take long for her to anticipate his needs in her new role, and in a very short time, they were working together with the precision of a fine Swiss watch. Amber loved the importance the job gave her, her proximity to the big boss. The admins looked at her with envy, and the executives treated her with respect. No one wanted to be on the wrong side of the person who had the ear of Jackson Parrish. It was a heady experience. She thought of that Lockwood son of a bitch back home and how he’d treated her — as if she were some piece of trash he could throw away.

She jumped when her buzzer sounded late Friday and got up and went to his office. When she approached his desk, she saw what looked like a stack of bills and a large checkbook. “I’m sorry to burden you with this. Battley used to take care of it, and I just don’t have time to look this all over.”

“Did you really just use that word with me? You should know by now that nothing you give me to do is a burden.”

Jackson smiled at her. “Touché. You do it all with pleasure. I should put PA after your name on your business cards. Perfect Assistant.”

“Hmm. Perfect Boss. I guess we’re a team made in heaven.”

“Here’s the test,” he said, with a wry smile.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Bills. They’re all on auto pay, but I want you to go over them, match them to the receipts, and be sure they’re accurate. And of course there are some bills that need to be paid by check. I’ve indicated which those are, so you’ll write a monthly check for those — Sabine and Surrey, school expenses, those kinds of things.”

“Of course. No problem.” She picked up the pile and the checkbook but hesitated before leaving his office. “You know, I’m feeling like Telemachos.”

Jackson’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “What?”

“You know, from The Odyssey.”

“I know who Telamachos is. You’ve read The Odyssey?”

Amber nodded. “A few times. I love it. I love the way he takes on more and more responsibility. So… don’t ever feel like you’re giving me too much.”

The way he looked at her felt to Amber as if he was appraising her, and it seemed to her that she had definitely scored a lot of points. She smiled sweetly and left him still studying her as she walked out the door.

She dropped everything onto her desk and began going through the folders. It turned out to be a very interesting exercise. Amber was astounded at the enormous sums of money Daphne spent each month. There were charges at Barney’s, Bergdorf Goodman, Neiman Marcus, Henri Bendel, and independent boutiques, not to mention the couture houses and jewelers. In one month alone she’d bought over $200,000 worth of merchandise. Then came the nanny salaries, and the housekeeper and the driver. Daphne’s gym membership and private yoga and Pilates classes. The girls’ riding and tennis lessons. The country-club dues. The yacht-club fees. The shows and dinners. The trips. It went on and on, like a freaking fairy tale.

Amber’s new salary was a pittance compared to the money Daphne could access. One bill in particular stopped her in her tracks — it was for a red crocodile Hermès Birkin. She did a double take when she saw the price: $69,000. For a purse! That was more than half her annual salary. And Daphne would probably use it a couple of times, then throw it in her closet. Amber’s outrage was so palpable, she thought she would choke. It was obscene. If Daphne really wanted to help families living with CF, why didn’t she donate more of her own money to them and be satisfied with the dozen designer purses she already had? What a little hypocrite. At least Amber was honest with herself about her motives. When she was married to Jackson, she wouldn’t waste her time pretending to care about charity work.

Daphne didn’t have to lift a finger at home, could buy anything she wanted, and had a husband who loved her, and she couldn’t even pay her own bills? How spoiled could you get? Amber would never be lazy enough to give someone else an inside view into her lifestyle. Now that she had seen even more deeply into the pampered life Daphne led, she realized how limitless Jackson’s wealth was and became even more determined to carry out her plan.

It took her over an hour and a half to wade through all the bills and receipts, and by the time she was finished, she was positively steaming. She got up from her desk and went to the coffee bar down the hall. On the way back, she stopped in the ladies’ room and looked at herself in the mirror. She liked what she saw, but it was time to up the ante, make herself just a bit sexier, but in a subtle way — have him wonder what was different about her. When she got back to her desk, she saw that Jackson had already left for the day. She put the bills and checkbook in her drawer, locked it, and drank her coffee. When she finally closed her office door and walked out of the building, plans were forming in her mind. She had the whole weekend to perfect them.

Twenty-Six

On Saturday she met Daphne at Barnes & Noble, and then they went to lunch at the small café across the street. They sat at a small booth near the back of the restaurant, and Amber ordered a green salad with chicken. She was surprised when Daphne ordered a cheeseburger and fries, but said nothing.

“So, Jackson tells me you’re doing an amazing job. Do you like it?”

“I do. It is a lot of work, but I really love it. I can’t thank you enough for recommending me.”

“I’m so glad. I knew you’d be great.”

Amber looked at the package on the seat next to Daphne, which she’d been carrying all morning. “What’s in the bag, Daph?”

“Oh, that. It’s a bottle of perfume I have to return. It’s the one I used to wear when Jackson and I met, and he loved it. I haven’t worn it in a long time, so I decided to try it again, but I must be allergic now. Broke out in hives.”

“That’s terrible. What’s it called?”

“Incomparable. Ha. That’s how I felt when I wore it.”

Their food arrived, and Daphne dug into the cheeseburger as if she hadn’t eaten in days. “Mm. Delicious,” she said.

“What was it like? You know, when you and Jackson were dating?”

“I was so young and inexperienced, but in some crazy way, I think that appealed to him. He’d been with so many glamour girls who knew their way around, I think he liked that he could take me to places I’d never been and show me things I’d never seen.” She paused and had a faraway look in her eyes. “I hung on his every word.” She looked back at Amber. “He likes to be adored, you know.” She laughed. “And it’s pretty easy to adore him. He’s one of a kind.”

“Yes, he is,” Amber agreed.

“Anyway, I guess nothing stays the same. Of course, now things are different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know. Children come along. Things become routine. Lovemaking isn’t as passionate. Sometimes you’re just too tired, and sometimes you just don’t feel like it.”

“Must be especially hard when you have a new baby. It must be so exhausting. You read all the time about new moms having postpartum depression.”

Daphne was quiet and looked down for a moment. With her eyes still fixed on the floor, she said, “I’m sure it’s a terrible thing.”

After a few awkward minutes, Amber tried again. “Well, anyway. Having children didn’t seem to put the damper on your romance. Every time I’m with you guys, it’s obvious that he’s crazy about you.”

Daphne smiled. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

“I hope I have such a great marriage one day. Like you and Jackson. The perfect couple.”

Daphne took a sip of her coffee and looked at Amber a long moment. “Marriage is hard work. If you love someone, you don’t let anything destroy it.”

This is getting interesting, Amber thought. “Like what?”

“There was a bump in the road. Right after Bella was born.” She paused again, tilting her head. “There was an indiscretion.”

“He cheated on you?”

Daphne nodded. “It was just once. I was exhausted. Busy with the baby. We hadn’t made love in months.” She shrugged. “Men have their needs. Plus, it took me a long time to get back in shape.”

Was Daphne seriously justifying what he did? She was even more gullible than Amber thought.

“I’m not saying what he did was right. But he was sorry after and swore it would never happen again.” She gave Amber what looked like a forced smile. “And he never has.”

“Wow. That must have been so hard for you. But at least you bounced back. The two of you seem very happy,” Amber said. She looked at her watch. “Well,” she said. “I guess we should be going. I have a salon appointment to get to.”

After their lunch, Amber went home and ordered a bottle of Incomparable online. She looked up from the computer and smiled to herself, relishing her new piece of intel. He’d cheated before! If he could do it once, he could surely do it again.

Monday brought with it drowning rain and cold winds, which soaked Amber as she waited for the train. The only thing Amber disliked about her job was the long commute into the city. It was fine to come in for a leisurely day of checking out museums, but rush-hour travel was its own special torture. As she sat, still windblown and wet, wedged between a large man who smelled of cigars and a young boy with a dirty backpack, she read the advertisements above the windows across from her. She could practically recite them by heart now. She wondered what it was like to see your picture on the walls of trains or the side of buses. Did the models get a kick out of it? She fantasized about being the object of desire for thousands of men. Her body was certainly good enough, and with the right hair and makeup, she bet she’d look every bit as good as those stuck-up models, even though she was just five-seven, a few inches shorter than Daphne. They probably thought they were so special, sticking their fingers down their throats just to stay skinny. She would never do that — but then again, she was lucky to be naturally thin.

By the time she arrived at Fifty-Seventh Street, the hems of her pants were almost dry. The rain had stopped, but the wind was still whipping furiously. She nodded at the doorman and said good morning to the guard at the front desk.

“Good morning, Miss Patterson. Filthy weather out there. You still manage to look perfect though. New hairstyle?”

She loved that they all knew who she was. “Yes, thanks.” She swiped her ID badge and walked to the elevator. Her first stop when she got upstairs was the ladies’ room. She pulled out her cordless flat iron and smoothed her hair, now shoulder length and a light-champagne blond. After she dabbed a drop of Incomparable on her wrists, the tennis shoes came off, and on went the nude Louboutins. She wore a black turtleneck sweater dress and a black lace push-up bra that beautifully enhanced her ample assets. On her wrist was a wide silver cuff bracelet. The only other jewelry were her earrings, hammered silver and stylishly simple. She smiled in the mirror, confident that she looked like she had just completed a Ralph Lauren photo shoot.

When she entered her office, she saw that Jackson’s door was closed and the windows still dark. She made it her business to be there early every day, but Jackson still managed to beat her. Today was a rare exception. She started answering e-mails, and the next time she looked up, it was eight thirty. Jackson sauntered in after ten.

“Good morning, Jackson. Everything okay?”

“Morning. Yeah, fine. Had a conference at Bella’s school.” He unlocked his office door and then stopped. “By the way, we have a show tonight. Would you make a six o’clock dinner reservation for two at Gabriel’s?”

“Certainly.”

He started to go inside but stopped again. “You look very nice today.”

Amber felt the heat rise on her neck. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

“Nothing kind about it. Just the truth.” He walked into his office and closed the door.

The thought of Daphne and Jackson having a romantic dinner and then sitting side by side in a Broadway theater pissed her off. She wanted to be the one sitting next to him in those primo seats, everyone looking at her with envy. But she knew that she had to keep her head about her. It wouldn’t serve her to lose her cool and do something stupid.

Later that afternoon, she and Jackson were going over his itinerary for next week’s trip to China when Daphne called his cell. Amber heard only his side of the conversation, but it was apparent he wasn’t pleased. He clicked off and threw the phone onto the desk. “Shit. Totally screws up the plans for tonight.”

“Is Daphne all right?”

He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “She’s fine. So to speak. Says Bella’s not well. Doesn’t want to come in for the play.”

“I’m sorry,” Amber said. “Shall I cancel the reservation?”

Jackson thought about this a few seconds and then gave Amber an appraising look. “Any chance you’d be interested in dinner and a show?”

Amber felt her stomach drop. This was too easy, falling into her lap like a gift from the heavens. “I’d love to. I’ve never been to a Broadway show.” She hadn’t forgotten that he liked innocence and first-timers.

“Good. These tickets for Hamlet are a hot item, limited run, and I don’t want to miss it. Let’s finish up by five thirty or so and we’ll grab a cab to the restaurant. Reservation’s at six?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s get back to work.”

Amber went back to her desk and phoned Daphne, who answered after one ring.

“Daphne, it’s Amber. Jackson told me Bella’s not well. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“No, I don’t think so. Just some sniffles and a low-grade fever. You know, she just wants Mommy. I didn’t want to leave her.”

“Yes, I can understand why you wouldn’t.” She paused. “Jackson asked me to fill in for you tonight. I just wanted to let you know. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course I don’t mind. I think it’s a great idea. Enjoy yourself.”

“Okay. Thanks, Daphne. I hope Bella’s feeling better soon.”

For once, Amber was filled with gratitude for the little nuisance.

They left the office at five thirty on the dot. She felt a rush sitting next to him in the taxi. It was better than the best high she’d ever experienced. When they walked into the restaurant, she was pleased by the admiring glances of those around her. Amber knew she looked good, and the man with his hand on her back was one of the richest men in the room. They were seated at a table in a quiet corner of the posh restaurant, bathed in candlelight.

“Wow, I’ve never been in a restaurant like this.”

“This was one of the first places I brought Daphne when we started dating.”

Daphne was the last thing Amber wanted to talk about, but if he insisted, maybe she could spin it to her advantage. “Daphne’s talked a lot about your dating days, how different it was then.”

He sat back in his chair and smiled. “Different? Yes, it was different then. There’s nothing like the rush that comes with falling in love. And I fell hard, that’s for sure. I’d never met anyone like her.” He took a sip of wine, and once again, Amber admired his fine hands.

“Sounds like you were made for each other.” She practically had to choke the words out.

He put the glass down and nodded. “Daphne has grown into such an amazing woman over the years. I look at all she’s accomplished and am so proud of her. I have the perfect wife.”

Amber almost gagged on her salad. Just when she thought he might be noticing the changes in her, the new, stylish, and attractive Amber, he was going on about his golden wife.

They talked mostly about business after that, and he treated her as any colleague he might have been dining with. When they got to the theater and took their seats — in a box — she let herself imagine again what it would be like to be married to him. If only he were interested in her as a woman and not just an assistant, the night would have been perfect.

When the curtain fell at eleven, Amber was not ready to end the evening. There were still plenty of bustling crowds on the street, and it looked as if all the restaurants and cafés were filled with patrons.

As they strolled toward Times Square, Jackson looked at his watch. “It’s getting late, and we have an early day tomorrow — the meeting with Whitcomb Properties.”

“I’m wide awake. Not tired at all,” she said.

“You might feel different when your alarm—” He stopped midsentence. “You’re going to be exhausted in the morning. Daphne and I were going to stay at the apartment tonight, and when she couldn’t make it, I told her I was going to go ahead and stay by myself. You could stay in the guest room. It seems foolish for you to take a train at this late hour, and you’ve stayed with us in the city before. I suppose the only problem is clothing.”

“I’m sure Daphne wouldn’t mind if I borrow something. After all, she lent me a designer gown for the fund-raiser. I’m only one size smaller than she is.” Amber hoped he didn’t miss the comparison.

“Okay, then.” Jackson hailed a cab, and Amber sank back into the seat, happy with this turn of events.

The taxi let them off in front of an uptown building, and they walked under the long canopy to the entrance. “Good evening, Mr. Parrish.” The doorman’s face showed no reaction to Amber, whether because of discretion or lack of interest, she didn’t know.

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.

She suspected that Jackson was a snob at heart and didn’t consider her worthy of him socially. She didn’t hold it against him; she’d feel the same in his position. But she also noticed the way his body stayed a little closer to her when they were reviewing a document, the way his eyes held hers just a moment longer than necessary. And when he saw her with Gregg, she hoped the seeds of jealousy would take root and hasten the seduction.

She took her time getting dressed and dabbed on the perfume that Daphne was now allergic to. Maybe it would make her eyes water, Amber thought spitefully. The dress was just low-cut enough to show off her cleavage, but not so low as to be slutty. She wore five-inch heels, wanting to be taller than Daphne for a change since Daphne had hurt her ankle playing tennis and was stuck in sensible shoes until it healed.

Gregg picked her up right on time, and she ran down the stairs to his waiting Mercedes convertible. She loved slipping into the luxurious car and being seen in it as they drove around. Sometimes he let Amber drive it, and she loved the feel of this singularly superior vehicle. Gregg loved pampering her, and she milked it for all it was worth.

She got in, admiring the saddle leather, and leaned in close to kiss him. He was a good kisser at least, and when she closed her eyes, she could pretend it was Jackson’s tongue in her mouth.

“Mmm, you’re delicious,” she said, sliding back over. “But we’d better get going. Don’t want to keep Daphne and Jackson waiting.”

Gregg took a deep breath and nodded. “I’d much rather sit here kissing you.”

Even his lines were dull. She feigned desire. “Me too, but you promised you’d take it slow. I told you how hurt I was in my last relationship. I’m not ready yet.” She gave him a pretty pout.

He took off, and they made small talk on the way to the club. They pulled through the gates right behind Jackson’s Porsche Spyder.

“Park next to them, and we can walk in together.”

She wanted Jackson to see her walking next to Daphne.

Daphne and she got out of their cars at the same time, and Amber walked over to give her a kiss, noticing that Daphne was carrying the new Hermès purse.

“Good timing!” Daphne smiled and gave her arm a squeeze.

“Love your bag,” Amber said, trying to make herself sound sincere.

“Oh, thanks.” She shrugged. “Just a little gift from Jackson.” She looked over at him and smiled. “He’s so good to me.”

“Lucky lady,” Amber said, wanting to spit.

The four of them walked in together, and Amber had to struggle to keep her eyes off Jackson and on Gregg.

After they’d been seated and gotten their drinks, Gregg lifted his glass. “Cheers. So glad we were finally able to get together.” He put his arm around Amber. “I can’t thank you enough for introducing me to this gem.”

Amber leaned over next to Gregg and kissed him. When she sat back up, she tried to gauge Jackson’s reaction, but his expression was unchanged.

“We’re glad it worked out. I had a feeling you two would be perfect for each other,” Daphne answered.

Amber snuck a glance at Jackson. He was frowning. Good. Licking her lips, she raised her glass of wine and took a long swallow, then looked at Gregg.

“You were right; this is a better choice than the house cabernet. I wish I knew as much about wines as you.”

“I’ll teach you,” he answered with a smile.

“Actually,” Jackson said, “the 1987 vintage was better.” He gave Gregg an apologetic look. “Sorry, old chap, but I’m something of a sommelier. I’ll order a bottle, and you’ll taste the difference.”

“No worries. That’s the year I was born, so it was a good year,” Gregg answered, perfectly seriously.

Amber had to struggle to keep from laughing. Gregg had put Jackson in his place even though he was too thick to realize it. But of course Jackson picked up on it right away. No matter how much more money or smarts Jackson had, he couldn’t make himself fifteen years younger.

“Obviously age is what makes a wine so much more desirable. The older the better,” Amber said, slowly moving her tongue along her lips and looking at Jackson.

Twenty-Eight

Amber was about to get a new glimpse into the Parrishes’ life. When she did the bills, she had seen that they rented a house on Lake Winnipesaukee from Memorial Day to Labor Day, although they probably used it less than an accumulated four weeks. Amber was curious to see what kind of place warranted such an exorbitant rental fee, and today she would. She was waiting for Daphne to pick her up for a weekend at the lake house in New Hampshire. Jackson was on another of his many business trips abroad.

At 8:30 sharp, the white Range Rover pulled up. Daphne jumped out of the car and opened the back hatch for Amber’s luggage.

“Good morning.” Daphne hugged her and then took the bag from her. “So glad you’re coming with us.”

“Me too.”

It was a four-and-a-half-hour drive to Wolfeboro, but it seemed to go quickly with the girls sleepy and quiet in the back as Amber and Daphne chatted up front.

“How are things at the office? Are you still liking it now with all the responsibilities?”

“I really love it. Jackson’s a great boss.” She looked at Daphne. “But you must know that.”

“I’m glad. By the way, I never thanked you for pinch-hitting for me the time you went to see Hamlet with him. Did you enjoy it?”

“I did. It was so different to see it onstage. I’m sorry you had to miss it.”

“I’m not a huge Shakespeare fan.” Daphne chuckled. “I know that’s an awful thing to admit, but I’m more suited to Broadway musicals. Jackson, on the other hand, adores Shakespeare.” She took her eyes from the road and glanced briefly at Amber. “He has tickets to The Tempest. I think it’s the week after next. Since you enjoyed Hamlet, if you don’t mind, I’ll ask him to take you instead.”

“I’m sure he would want you to go.” Amber didn’t want to seem overly anxious.

“He’ll love the idea of introducing you to more Shakespeare. And besides, you’d be doing me a big favor. I’d much rather be at home with the girls than listening to language I don’t understand half of.”

This was too delicious. Daphne was practically handing Jackson to her on the proverbial silver platter. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess it would be okay.”

“Good. That’s settled, then.”

“Will your mom be coming to stay at all? I imagine she’s not too far from here.”

She noticed Daphne’s hand tighten on the wheel. “New Hampshire’s bigger than you think. She’s actually a couple of hours away.”

Amber waited for her to go on, but there was an awkward silence. She decided not to press it. A few minutes later, Daphne looked in the rearview mirror and spoke to the girls.

“We’ve got about an hour left. Everyone okay, or do we need a bathroom break?”

The girls said they were fine, and Amber and Daphne chatted about their plans for the rest of the day once they got to the house.

They arrived at the charming little town of Wolfeboro around lunchtime and continued to the lake house, passing mile after mile of sparkling water and verdant hillsides. The homes along the banks were an exciting combination of old and new, some imposingly important and others small and eclectic. Amber was enchanted by the clear call of summer pleasures that seemed to hover over everything. Daphne pulled into the driveway, and the moment they opened the doors, the smell of honeysuckle and pine filled the car. Amber stepped onto the gravel, which was covered in pine needles, and breathed in the fresh air. This was paradise.

“If everyone grabs something, we can do this in one trip,” Daphne called from the back of the Rover.

Bags in hand, with even Bella helping out, they walked down the dirt path leading to the house. Amber stopped and stared, openmouthed, at the structure in front of her, an immense three-story cedar house abounding with porches, balconies, and white railings. Beyond it stood a large octagonal gazebo and a small boathouse that overlooked the pristine waters.

The inside of the house was homey and comfortable, with old pine floors and cushioned furniture that invited relaxation. The front porch spanned the entire front of the house and looked over the lake.

“Mom, Mom, Mom.” Bella had already gone upstairs and changed into her bathing suit. “Can we go swimming now?”

“In a bit, sweetheart. Wait till we all get into our swimsuits.”

Bella plopped herself onto one of the sofas to wait.

The lake water was cold and clean. It took a while for them all to get used to it, but soon they were squealing and splashing and laughing. Amber and Daphne took a break and sat on the edge of the pier, legs dangling in the water as they watched the girls swim. The afternoon sun warmed their shoulders as the cold lake water dripped from their hair.

Daphne kicked up a splash of water and turned to Amber. “You know,” she said, “I feel closer to you than anyone I know. It’s almost as if I have my sister back.” She looked out over the lake. “This is exactly what Julie and I would be doing now if she were alive — sitting here watching the girls, just enjoying being together.”

Amber tried to think of a sympathetic response and then said, “It’s very sad. I understand.”

“I know you do. It hurts me to think of all the things I would love to be sharing with her. But now, with you, I can do that. It’s not the same, of course, and I know you understand what I mean. But it makes me a little happier that we can make it hurt less.”

“Just think, when Bella and Tallulah are grown, they’ll sit together like this. It’s nice that they’ll have each other.”

“You’re right. But I’ve always felt it was a shame we didn’t have more.”

“Did Jackson want to stop at two?”

Daphne leaned back and looked up at the sky. “Quite the opposite. He was desperate for a son.” She squinted and put her hand up to shield her eyes from the light. Turning to Amber, she said, “It never happened though. We tried and tried, but I never got pregnant after Bella.”

“I’m sorry,” Amber said. “Did you think of trying fertility treatments?”

Daphne shook her head. “I didn’t want to be greedy. I felt like we’d been blessed with two healthy children, and I should be grateful for that. It was really only because Jackson had always wanted a boy.” She shrugged. “He talked about having a little Jackson Junior.”

“It could still happen. Right?”

“I guess anything is possible. But I’ve given up hoping for it.”

Amber nodded solemnly, though she was dancing inside. So he wanted a boy, and Daphne couldn’t deliver. This was the best news yet.

They were both quiet, and then Daphne spoke again. “I’ve been thinking; you shouldn’t have to do that commute every day while the apartment is just sitting there, empty. You’re more than welcome to stay at the apartment the nights Jackson isn’t there.”

Amber was genuinely floored. “I don’t know what to say.”

Daphne put her hand on top of Amber’s. “Say nothing. That’s what friends are for.”

Twenty-Nine

Amber was looking forward to sleeping in Daphne’s bed tonight. She was going to take Daphne up on her offer to use the apartment for the weekend. Since it was the last week in August, and Jackson had been telecommuting from the lake, the apartment was available. Amber had no big plans for the weekend, so she’d spend Saturday roaming around Manhattan. She texted Daphne to let her know and to thank her.

She hadn’t been there in a while and was taken aback again at the sheer elegance and luxury. She imagined that bastard back home and his snotty mother — if they could see her in this palatial apartment! She flung off her heels and stepped barefoot onto the fluffy carpet. Then, sinking into the white, half-moon sofa, she surveyed her surroundings with pleasure. It almost felt as if it were hers. She put her head back and closed her eyes, feeling incredibly indulged. After a few minutes, she went into the master bedroom to search for a robe.

Amber chose a gorgeous Fleur number in silk and lace. It felt like a warm, sultry breeze gliding over her skin. Next, she opened Daphne’s drawers and picked a white pair of Fox & Rose lace panties that made her feel like a seductress — not that she had anyone to seduce, but it felt good nonetheless. She went into the bathroom and brushed out her long hair, now even blonder from her frequent trips to the salon. It fell loosely around her shoulders, thick and shiny. Maybe not as beautiful as Daphne, but certainly younger.

She looked over at the bed, which was covered in a downy pale-green comforter. She would sleep here tonight and pretend it was all hers, see how it felt to be Daphne. She sat on the bed and bounced a few times, and then she lay down and spread out. It was like being hugged by a thousand clouds. How lovely it would be to wake up whatever time she chose in this heavenly room and then explore the city. What could be a more perfect Friday and Saturday?

Amber nestled a little longer. The rumbling in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She reluctantly rose and padded into the kitchen. She’d picked up a salad from the market, and she scraped it out of its container and onto one of Daphne’s china plates. She’d opened a bottle of malbec earlier and now poured herself a glass. After her dinner, she put a few jazz CDs in the player and sat with her second glass of wine, thinking about what she would do tomorrow. Maybe the Guggenheim or the Whitney. The third disc was playing when Amber heard a noise outside the apartment. She bolted to a standing position and listened. Yes. Definitely. It was the elevator. Suddenly, the doors opened and Jackson walked in.

He looked surprised. “Amber. What are you doing here?”

She pulled the robe tighter around herself. “I, uh, I… Daphne gave me a key and said I could use it if I was too tired to get the train. She said she told you. I figured with all of you at the lake, it would be empty. I’m sorry. I had no idea you were coming.” She blushed.

He dropped his briefcase and shook his head. “It’s fine. I should have let you know.”

“I thought you were staying at the lake until Sunday night.”

“It’s a long story. Let’s just say I’ve had better weeks.”

“Well, I’ll go and get my things and get out of your way.” She hated to go, but figured he’d expect her to offer.

He shook his head and moved past her toward the bedroom. “It’s late, you should feel free to stay till morning. I’m going to go change.”

She heard him on the phone, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. He stayed in the bedroom for close to an hour, and Amber wondered if he was ever going to come out. She debated changing from the robe into some clothes, but decided against it. She had a good feeling about tonight. She sat back down with her glass of wine and a magazine, waiting for him.

He finally came out, got a drink, and sat down on the other end of the sofa. He seemed to register what she was wearing for the first time. “That robe looks nice on you. A little tight for Daphne lately.”

“She’s gained a little weight. It happens to the best of us,” Amber said, choosing her words carefully.

“She’s not been herself lately.”

“I’ve noticed that too. Whenever we’re together, she seems distracted, like something’s on her mind.”

“Has she said anything to you? About being unhappy or anything?”

“I really wouldn’t want to repeat anything she’s said to me, Jackson.”

He sat up straight. “So she has said something to you.”

“Please, if she’s not happy, that’s something you and Daphne need to discuss.”

“She told you she’s not happy?”

“Well, not in so many words. I don’t know. I don’t want to betray a confidence.”

He took a long swallow from his glass. “Amber, if there’s something I should know, something that can help, then tell me. Please.”

“I don’t think you want to hear what I have to say.”

“Tell me.”

She let out a sigh and allowed the robe to fall open just enough to show a teasing bit of cleavage. “Daphne told me the sex is boring and routine. And that she’s thrilled every month when she gets her period and knows she’s not pregnant.” She pretended to look nervous. “But please don’t tell her I told you. She told me how much you want a boy, and she might not want you to know she doesn’t feel the same way.”

He was speechless.

“I’m sorry, Jackson. I didn’t want to tell you, but you’re right: you have a right to know how she feels. Just… please… don’t say anything to Daphne.”

He remained silent, his face red and set with a grim expression that Amber saw only rarely. He was furious.

She rose from the sofa and walked toward him. She made sure her robe opened slightly against her leg as she approached him. She stood in front of him and put her hand on his cheek. “Whatever is going on, I’m sure it will pass. How could anyone be unhappy with you, Jackson?”

He took her hand from his face and held it. Amber ran her other hand through his hair and he moaned, but then slowly pushed her away. “Forgive me, Amber. I’m not myself.”

She sat next to him. “I understand. It’s hard when you discover someone you love doesn’t want the same thing you do.”

He gazed steadily at her. “Did she really say those things? That she was happy every time she knew she wasn’t pregnant?”

“She did. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe it. We’ve talked about how wonderful it would be. I just can’t believe it.” He put his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees.

Amber caressed his back. “Please don’t tell Daphne I told you. She made me promise to keep her secret.” She thought for a moment and then decided to go all the way. “You know,” she said sadly, “she was kind of laughing about it, about how she fooled you and you never even realized.” She prayed the lie wouldn’t blow up in her face, but she needed to move this game forward.

When Jackson looked up at her, his eyes were filled with confusion and pain. “She laughed about it? How could she?”

She put her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her. “I don’t understand it either. Let me help you,” she said, kissing his cheek.

He pushed her away again. “Amber, no. This is wrong.”

“Wrong? And what she’s done is right? Betraying you? Laughing at you?” Amber rose and stood before him once again. “Let me make you feel good. It doesn’t have to change anything.”

He shook his head. “I can’t think right now.”

“I’m here for you. That’s all you have to think about.” She slowly untied the sash of her robe and let it fall from her shoulders, standing before him in only the lace panties. He looked up at her, and she pulled his head toward her until it was buried against her belly. She pushed him back so she could straddle his lap, and once she had, she put her mouth against his ear and whispered how much she wanted him as she moved her hips and ground against him.

She found his lips and thrust her tongue deep inside his mouth. She felt his resistance weaken as he pulled her closer to him and returned her kiss.

Their lovemaking was fierce and powerful. They barely let go of each other when they moved into the bedroom in the middle of the night. Finally, at dawn, they fell into a deep and satisfying slumber.

Amber awoke first. She turned on her side and looked at Jackson, sleeping next to her. He had been an expert lover, an added bonus and one she hadn’t expected. She was so used to planning every move that it now seemed impossible that their being alone together in the apartment had happened so serendipitously. She closed her eyes and lay back against the pillow. Jackson stirred beside her, and then she felt his hand gliding up her thigh.

They stayed in bed until after twelve, dozing off and on. Amber was still half asleep when Jackson got up to shower and dress. He was in the kitchen making coffee when she came out, now in a long white T-shirt of Daphne’s.

“Good morning, Superman.” She moved toward him, but he backed away.

“Listen, Amber. This can’t happen again. I’m sorry. I love Daphne. I would never want to hurt her. You understand, don’t you?”

Amber felt as if she’d been struck. She took a moment to think things through, to alter her game plan. There was no way she was going to let him cast her aside. “Of course I understand, Jackson. Daphne’s my best friend, and the last thing I would ever want is for her to be hurt. But don’t beat yourself up. You’re a man, and you have needs. There’s no reason for you to be ashamed of that. I’m here for you whenever you want. Just between us. Daphne doesn’t need to know.”

Jackson looked at her. “That’s hardly fair to you.”

“I would do anything for you, so hear me again: Whenever you want. No questions asked, no strings attached, and no spilling secrets.” She put her arms around his neck and felt his close around her.

“You’re making it impossible for me to resist you,” he whispered, his lips against her ear.

She pulled slightly away and looked up into his eyes as her hand moved below his waist to caress him.

“Ah.” He put his head back and closed his eyes in pleasure.

“Why would you try to resist me?” Her voice was silky. “I told you. I’m here for you. Come to me for whatever you need. Our little secret.”

Thirty

Amber clutched a silky pillow to her, closing her eyes to get a few more minutes of sleep. She and Jackson had been sleeping together for over two months now, and they had stayed up all night making love. She was drifting off again when she felt him shaking her arm.

“You’ve got to get up. I forgot! Matilda’s here to clean.”

Her eyes flew open. “What should I do?”

“Get dressed! Go in the guest room and make it look like you stayed there last night. We’ll have to make something up for Daphne.”

Annoyed, she threw on the robe at the foot of the bed and ran down the hallway to the guest room. Would it be so terrible if Daphne found out? Yes, it was too soon. She had to make sure he was firmly in her grasp before anything happened to jeopardize her position. Outside of his office she was the consummate professional, but inside, with the door shut, she used every trick at her disposal to make sure he couldn’t get enough of her. It got a little tiresome — especially his affinity for blow jobs — but she could retire her services after she had a ring on her finger. And afterward, she demanded nothing and went about the day as if they had nothing more than a professional relationship. They usually stayed together at the apartment a few nights a week. She loved that the best. Waking up next to him, in that fabulous apartment, as if it was all hers. Now she made sure to schedule late appointments and dinners for him so he’d be more inclined to spend the night, and she always had an overnight bag at the ready.

It was becoming harder and harder to play the part of Daphne’s best friend. She hated having to pretend that she was nothing more than Jackson’s assistant; that she didn’t know every inch of his body probably better than his own wife did. For now, though, she had to play it cool. But when Daphne phoned to send her on an errand, she was livid.

“Amber, dear. Can you do me a big favor?” Daphne had asked.

“What is it, Daphne?”

“Bella has a party to go to and needs an accessory for one of her American Girl dolls. I just can’t get into the city in time. Would you mind picking it up for me and bringing it to the house?”

She damn well did mind. She wasn’t Daphne’s servant. Amber had planned to stay overnight at the apartment, but now she had to change her plans.

“Certainly, Daphne, what is it?” she said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

“She wants the Pretty City Carriage. They’re going to pretend they’re in Central Park. I’ve called and charged it already. They’re holding it in your name.”

Amber was still fuming when her train got in to Bishops Harbor just before six. She took a cab right to their house and wondered if Jackson had returned from his business trip yet.

When she arrived, Daphne was in the kitchen with the girls, and Jackson was nowhere in sight.

“Ah, you’re a doll. Thank you!” Daphne gushed. Tilting her head toward Bella, she went on, “I would have had a major meltdown on my hands if you hadn’t come through.”

Amber forced a smile. “Can’t have that.”

“Drink?” Daphne held up a bottle of red wine, half empty. It was a little early for her, Amber thought.

“Just one. I have a date with Gregg tonight,” she lied. She didn’t want to get stuck here all night. “I see you’ve gotten a head start.”

Daphne shrugged and poured a glass for Amber. “TGIF.”

Amber accepted the glass and took a sip. “Thanks. Where’s Jackson?”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “In his office, where else?” She lowered her voice so the girls wouldn’t hear and stood closer to Amber. “Honestly, he’s been gone all week, and the first thing he does when he gets home is complain that Bella left her shoes in the hall.” She shook her head. “Sometimes it’s easier when he’s away.”

Don’t worry, honey, Amber wanted to tell her. You won’t have to put up with it for long. She put on her concerned face instead. “You’re ruining my fantasy of marriage.” She laughed.

“It’s okay. After he cooled down, he and I had a little afternoon delight. It was the first time in a while.” She put her hand up to her mouth. “I can’t believe I just told you that! Enough about me, tell me more about what’s going on with Gregg.” She linked her arm in Amber’s, and they went into the sunroom, Daphne calling over her shoulder, “Sabine, please give the girls their baths when they’ve finished eating.”

“I need to use the restroom,” Amber said as she hurried past her. She went in and slammed the door, her back against it. Was he getting tired of her already? Daphne’s smug expression infuriated her. It began as a tingling in her fingers, and then she was digging her fingernails into her hands to stop from screaming. She was a furnace, ready to explode, adrenaline pumping through her so fast that she couldn’t catch her breath. She wanted to break something. Her eyes went to the delicate green glass turtle on the shelf in front of her. She picked it up and threw it on the floor and stomped on it with both feet, grinding the pieces into the carpet. She hoped Daphne cut her feet on them. She flung the door open and headed back to the sunroom. This is what happened when he got out of her sight for too long. She would have to do something about it, and fast.

Daphne patted the seat next to her when Amber walked in. “So, spill. How’s it going with Gregg?”

As far as Gregg was concerned, she saw him just enough to keep Daphne’s suspicions at bay. She’d go to dinner with him, usually on a Friday or Saturday night, or she’d play the occasional tennis game at the club with him. He believed her story that she needed more time to get over the abusive ex-boyfriend she’d invented — the one that no one else but he “knew” about.

“He’s very sweet and attentive. I don’t see him as much as I’d like because of work.” She put her hand up. “Not that I’m complaining. I appreciate my job, believe me.”

Daphne smiled. “I know that. Don’t worry. The boss’s wife won’t say anything.”

Amber was inwardly seething. “I don’t think of you as the boss’s wife.”

Daphne raised an eyebrow.

Amber reached out and squeezed her hand. “What I mean is, I think of you as my best friend. If I do ever get married, I’d want you to be my matron of honor.”

“Aw. You’re sweet. I’m probably a little old for that, though?”

Amber shook her head. “Of course not. Forty isn’t old.”

“Excuse me! I’m thirty-eight. Don’t push me over the hill yet.”

She knew exactly how old Daphne was. But really, thirty-eight, forty — what did it matter? Amber was twenty-six. There was no competing with that. “Sorry, Daph. I’m awful with ages. You look young, anyway.”

“Oh, before I forget, I’ve got some clothes I’m getting rid of but thought I’d see if you want any of them first,” Daphne said.

Amber didn’t need her castoffs. She had a whole new wardrobe of her own, thanks to Jackson. But she couldn’t show her hand — not yet.

“That’s so nice. I’d love to look at them. Why don’t you want them anymore? Do they not fit?” She couldn’t resist.

The color rose in Daphne’s cheeks. “Excuse me?”

Amber looked at the floor. How was she going to get out of this one? Before she could say anything else, Daphne spoke again.

“I have gained weight. I can’t seem to stop snacking. I eat when I’m stressed, and I’m worried about Jackson. He’s acting strange, and I don’t understand it.” She sighed loudly.

“Oh, Daph. I wasn’t sure if I should tell you, but he has been spending lots of time with one of his vice presidents. She’s a new hire, and her name is Bree. I don’t know if anything’s going on, but they’ve been taking some awfully long lunches…” Bree was a knockout who had started there a few weeks ago. Amber had actually been wary of her and ready to do some sabotage until she found out Bree was a lesbian. But Daphne didn’t know that. Bree and Jackson had been working a lot together, but it was perfectly innocent — and now Daphne would start nagging him about her and drive him right back into Amber’s arms.

Daphne’s hand flew to her mouth. “I know who you mean. She’s gorgeous.”

Amber bit her lip. “I know. She’s a real snake too. I’ve seen the way she looks at him. She’s always putting a hand on his arm or crossing her legs and wearing short skirts. She’s rude to me too, suddenly going straight to Jackson to make an appointment like she has special access or something.”

“What should I do?”

Amber raised her brows. “I know what I’d do if it were me.”

“What?”

“I’d tell him to get rid of her.”

Daphne shook her head. “I can’t do that. It’s his business. He’ll think I’m crazy.”

Amber pretended to think. “I know. Go talk to her.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Sure you can. You come to the office and very quietly tell her that you’re on to her, and if she values her job she’d better leave your husband alone.”

“You really think so?”

“Do you want to lose him?”

“Of course not.”

“Then, yes, get your tail in there and show her who’s really boss. I’ll make sure to keep him occupied while you do, so he doesn’t find out.”

Daphne took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right.”

Amber smiled. It was perfect — Daphne would embarrass him at his office, which would make him livid. “I’ll be behind you all the way.”

Thirty-One

It was becoming more difficult to keep Gregg out of her bed. Not that she would have minded taking him for a spin — he was a decent enough kisser, and she could tell he was more than willing to please her. But she couldn’t risk it. When she got pregnant, it would be with Jackson’s kid, not Gregg’s. Besides, as soon as her position with Jackson was assured, she’d be kicking Gregg to the curb. All she had to do until then was what she’d learned best in high school. Pushing herself up off her knees, she brushed his stomach with her lips, then kissed him on the lips before going into the bathroom to wash her mouth out. He was still standing there, a dazed look on his face, pants around his ankles.

He gave her a sheepish look and pulled his trousers up. “Sorry. You’re really out of this world, baby.” He pulled her to him, and she had to resist the urge to squirm out of his arms. “When are you going to be ready to make love? I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

“I know, me too. My doctor said I need to wait another six weeks. Then everything will be healed up. It’s killing me too.” He was getting impatient, and she’d had to make up a new excuse. She told a lame story about having some cysts removed that necessitated holding off on intercourse. When she’d started to get graphic, he’d put his hands up and told her to stop, that he didn’t need to know the details.

“Better get dressed, we’ll be late for the play if we don’t start dinner soon,” she said sweetly. Snap out of it, she wanted to say. They had come into New York to see Fiddler on the Roof and were spending the night at his parents’ apartment across from Central Park. Amber had wanted to see Book of Mormon, but when she’d mentioned it, Gregg had said he wasn’t interested in seeing a religious play.

She’d stupidly agreed to prepare dinner for them before the show — packaged grilled chicken over minute rice and a green salad. Now she was rummaging through cabinets for pots, bowls, and utensils when she felt Gregg bump into her from behind. She turned around and stared at him.

“Oh, sorry,” he said. “I was trying to help you find things.”

“I’ve found everything I need,” she answered curtly.

As Amber turned on the faucet to fill the pot, Gregg’s arm reached out in front of her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m trying to help you. I was going to take the pot from you and put it on the stove.”

“I think I can handle that,” she said, walking to the stove, but Gregg ran ahead of her to turn the burner on, and they collided. The pot bobbled in Amber’s hand, and water flew everywhere, soaking the front of Amber’s dress.

“Oh my gosh. Are you okay?” Gregg said, grabbing a tea towel and pressing it against Amber’s dress.

Are you a flipping moron? she almost yelled, but instead smiled thinly and said, “I’m fine. How about you go sit down, and I’ll finish in here?”

They arrived at the Broadway Theatre in plenty of time, and he went to the bar to get them each a drink. Amber looked around at the magnificent theater while she waited, admiring the grand chandelier in the opulent lobby of red and gold. Gregg returned with their drinks, two glasses of white wine, even though she’d repeatedly told him she preferred red. Did the moron ever listen?

“I think you’ll be pleased with the seats. Front-row orchestra,” he said, brandishing the tickets with a flourish.

“Great. A front-row seat to all that singing.” Amber had seen the movie, and she didn’t really get what all the fuss was about. Fiddler was old news as far as she was concerned. These were his parents’ tickets, and apparently even they weren’t interested in going.

“Have you seen it before?” she asked.

He nodded. “Seven times. It’s my favorite play. I just love the music.”

“Wow, seven times. That must be a record,” Amber said, looking distractedly around the lobby.

Gregg stood up straighter and said with pride, “My family are quite the theater aficionados. Dad buys tickets to all the best shows.”

“How nice for you.”

“Yes, it is. He’s a great man.”

“And what about you?” Amber asked without much interest.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you a great man?” she said, playing with him.

Gregg chuckled. “I will be one day, Amber. I am being groomed right now to be a great man,” he said, looking at her in earnest. “And I hope you will be by my side.”

Amber controlled the urge to laugh in his face and instead said, “We’ll see, Gregg, we’ll see. Shall we go take our seats now?”

Amber found she was enjoying the play despite her earlier reservations. Just when she’d begun to think the evening wasn’t such a waste after all, Gregg started tapping his foot in time to the music. Next he was humming along, and the people around them began to look over.

“Gregg!” she hissed under her breath.

“Huh?”

“You’re humming.”

“Sorry! It’s just so catchy.”

He quieted down, but then began to bob his head back and forth in time to the music. She wanted to slug him.

Three hours later, they left the theater. Amber came away with a headache.

“Feel like a drink?” Gregg asked.

“I guess.” Anything was better than going straight back to his parents’ apartment and being pawed.

“How about Cipriani’s?”

“That sounds fine. Can we grab a cab, though? I don’t want to walk in the rain.”

“Of course.”

“I still don’t get what the big deal was when the young daughter married the Russian,” Gregg said as they were seated in the taxi. “I mean, geez, weren’t the Jews complaining about being judged because of their religion, and then Tevye goes and does the same thing.”

Amber looked at him in astonishment. “You do realize that the Russians were the ones making them leave, right? Also she was marrying outside of her religion.”He had seen this seven times and was still confused?

“Yeah, yeah. I know. But I’m just saying. It’s not very politically correct. But, whatever, the music sure is great.”

“Do you mind if we skip drinks? My head is pounding; I really need to just go to sleep.” If she had to spend any more time talking to him tonight, she might have to choke him.

“Of course, babe.” He gave her a concerned look. “So sorry you don’t feel well.”

She smiled tightly. “Thanks.”

When they got back to the apartment, she crawled under the covers and curled into a tight ball. She felt the mattress shift as he lay next to her, pressing his body close.

“Want me to massage your temples?” he whispered.

I want you to get lost, she thought. “No. Just let me try and fall asleep.”

He draped an arm around her waist. “I’m right here if you change your mind.”

Not for long, Amber thought.

Thirty-Two

A bright beam of light peeked through the heavy bedroom curtains of Amber’s room at the Dorchester Hotel, rousing her. She jumped out of bed and pushed back the green drapery to let the full radiance of the sun warm her body. Despite the early hour, there was lots of activity in Hyde Park; joggers, dog walkers, people on their way to work. They’d been in London three glorious days, and Amber was lapping up every minute of it. She was here as Jackson’s assistant, as he had brought along the whole family, and she had her own room just down the hall from the family suite. Jackson and Amber worked during the day while Daphne and the girls went sightseeing.

On their second night, they all went to St Martin’s Theatre to see The Mousetrap, but last night Daphne had decided to take Tallulah and Bella to the Royal Ballet to see Sleeping Beauty while Jackson and Amber went to a business dinner. The truth was, there was no business dinner. Amber and Jackson had spent those four hours in her room. He was frenzied after not being able to be alone with her for the last three days. He wasn’t used to such long dry spells; she’d made sure of that, and when she had her period she pleased him in other ways. Jackson now stayed at the New York apartment at least three nights a week, and Amber stayed with him. Daphne could reach either one of them by cell phone, so there was no way for her to figure out they were together. On the weekends, Amber was usually hanging at the Parrish house with her good friend Daphne, and on at least two occasions, she and Jackson had had sex in the downstairs bathroom while Daphne was putting the girls to bed. The danger of it had been absolutely thrilling. And they had snuck out of the house late one night after Daphne fell asleep on the couch and gone skinny-dipping in the heated pool, then did it in the gazebo. He couldn’t get enough of her. She had him lassoed, and as soon as she was pregnant, she would tighten the rope.

Amber draped her leg over Jackson’s body and nestled against his shoulder. “Mmm. I could stay like this forever,” she mumbled sleepily.

Jackson pulled her closer and stroked her thigh. “They’ll be back soon. We need to put on our dinner duds and wait for them in the suite.” He rolled over on top of her. “But first…”

Amber was meeting Daphne and girls for breakfast in the hotel, and when she walked in, the striking mix of copper, marble, and butterscotch-colored leather filled her senses once again. Daphne and the children were seated with Sabine at a round table near the middle of the restaurant.

“Good morning,” Amber said as she took a seat. “How was the ballet last night?”

Before Daphne could say anything, Bella piped up. “Oh, Auntie Amber, you would have loved it. Sleeping Beauty was so beautiful.”

“I guess that’s why they call her Sleeping Beauty,” Amber said.

“No, no. They call her that because she fell asleep and no one could wake her up until the prince kissed her.” Bella’s face was flushed with excitement.

“Aunt Amber was kidding. That was a joke, stupid,” Tallulah said.

Bella hit the cereal bowl with her spoon. “Mom!”

“Tallulah, apologize to your sister at once,” Daphne said.

Tallulah gave her mother a look. “Sorry,” she muttered to Bella.

“That’s better,” Daphne said. “Sabine, will you take Tallulah and Bella for a walk in the park? The barge down the Thames to Greenwich doesn’t leave until eleven.”

“Oui.” She pushed her chair out and looked at Bella and Tallulah. “Allez les filles.”

Daphne was on her second cup of coffee when Amber’s full English breakfast arrived, and she dug into it with gusto.

“You have quite an appetite this morning,” Daphne commented.

Amber looked up from her plate. She realized that she and Jackson had never eaten last night. It had been the last thing on their minds.

“I’m absolutely famished. I hate dinner business meetings. Your food gets cold while you talk, and then it’s completely unappetizing.”

“I’m sorry you had to work and miss the ballet. It was superb.”

“Me too. I would much rather have done that.”

Daphne absently stirred her coffee for a moment before speaking.

“Amber.” Her voice was low and serious. “I need to talk to you about something that’s been bothering me.”

Amber put down her knife and fork. “What is it, Daph?”

“It’s about Jackson.”

Amber pushed down the panic threatening to rise. “What about Jackson?” she said, her face a mask.

“I really do think he’s seeing someone.”

“Did you talk to Bree?”

“I know it has nothing to do with Bree. She’s gay — I met her partner at a party we attended recently. I’m so glad I never went to the office and accused her. But he’s been very distant lately. He’s spending most of the week at the apartment in New York. He never used to do that. Maybe a night here and there, but it was the exception. Now it seems to be the rule. And even when he’s home, he’s not really there. His mind is always somewhere else.” She put her hand on Amber’s arm. “And we haven’t made love in weeks and weeks.”

Nothing could have pleased Amber more. So he wasn’t sleeping with Daphne any longer. It didn’t surprise her. She made sure she left him satisfied in every way possible.

“I’m sure you’re wrong,” she said, putting her hand on Daphne’s. “He’s closing on that huge project in Hong Kong, and it’s been brutal. Plus, the time difference between here and there has him on calls at all hours. He’s totally exhausted and consumed by it. You have nothing to worry about. As soon as this deal closes, he’ll be back to normal. Trust me.”

“You really think so?”

“I do.” Amber smiled. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open and let you know if anything looks suspicious.”

“I’d appreciate that. I knew I could count on you.”

Amber joined them later on the boat ride down the Thames to Greenwich, and together they wended their way up the big hill to the Royal Observatory. They ate lunch in the town and strolled around most of the afternoon, also visiting the National Maritime Museum. By the time they got back to the hotel, Bella and Tallulah were fading and ready for naps. Amber was feeling like she could use a quick nap too, and they all went to their rooms to rest. Amber was out in seconds, and when she awoke, it was six o’clock. She called the suite to see what the plan was for dinner.

“Did you get some rest?” Daphne asked when she picked up.

“I did. How about you?”

“Yes, we all slept. I’ve been up for a while, but Tallulah and Bella just got up. The girls are eating in tonight.” Daphne’s voice got a little softer. “I think you must be right. Jackson wants a romantic dinner, just the two of us. He apologized for all the nights away and his preoccupation with work. I should have known you were right. Thank you for setting me straight.”

“You’re welcome.” Amber’s voice was strangled. What the hell was he playing at? A romantic dinner with Daphne? After he had made love to Amber that morning?

Daphne’s voice startled her. “Thanks again. See you tomorrow.”

Amber put the phone down and sat on the bed, stewing. She was furious. Did he think he could just use her and then run back to Daphne? She heard her mother’s words, repeated so often that Amber remembered wanting to stuff a rag in her mouth. Don’t be someone’s trash can. What a vile admonition, Amber had always thought when she heard her mother say it. But that’s precisely what she felt like now.

She was putting the finishing touches on her makeup when she heard knocking at her door.

She opened it, and Jackson slid in. He looked at her, a puzzled expression forming.

“Are you going out?”

She smiled, put one leg on the bed, pulled up a sheer stocking, and clipped it to her garter.

“Daphne told me that you had plans, so I called an old friend, and we’re meeting for drinks.”

“What old friend?”

She shrugged. “Just an old boyfriend. I called my mom earlier today, and she told me he’d moved here a few years ago with his wife,” she lied.

Jackson sat on the bed, still looking at her.

“Poor thing, he just got divorced. I thought he could use some cheering up.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Don’t be silly. He’s ancient history.”

He grabbed both her hands in his and pushed her backward until she was against the wall. Kissing her hungrily, he moved his body against hers and lifted her skirt above her thighs. Standing up and half undressed, they made love with urgency, and when they were finished, Jackson pulled her to the bed to sit beside him.

“Cancel on him,” he said.

“You can’t expect me to sit alone in this hotel room while you’re out with Daphne. Besides, don’t you trust me?”

He stood from the bed, his face red, his hands balled into fists, and glared at her. “I don’t want you going out with another man.” He pulled a box from his pocket. “This is for you.”

He handed it to her, and when she opened it, there sat a magnificent diamond bracelet.

“Wow,” she breathed. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. Thank you! Will you put it on me?” She gave him a long kiss. “I suppose I could cancel if it bothers you that much. How long will your dinner take?”

“I’ll make it quick. Meet you back here in two hours.”

The bracelet was the most amazing piece of jewelry she’d ever seen. And it was hers. All hers. She turned slowly and, never taking her eyes from Jackson, began to undress. When she was finally wearing nothing but the bracelet, she walked over to him and purred, “Hurry back, and then I’ll show you how very grateful your girl is.”

After he left, she pulled out her phone and took a selfie — a very erotic selfie. She waited an hour, knowing he’d be in the middle of dinner, then texted it to him. That ought to have him calling for the check.

Thirty-Three

Amber delighted in soaking in Daphne’s bathtub, more often than not with Jackson. She luxuriated in the soft-as-silk sheets as she lay next to Daphne’s husband and drove him mad with lust. And how liberating it was to know that no matter how many towels she used, no matter how mussed the sheets became, no matter how many glasses of wine or dishes of food she consumed, she could walk out the door in the morning and know the maid would have everything spick-and-span when she and Jackson returned in the evening. The doorman nodded politely to her on arrival and departure, a model of discretion, just like the new maid. Matilda, the old one, had been fired. Apparently she’d stolen some of Daphne’s jewelry. The same jewelry that Amber had hocked for a little extra cash.

The night before, they’d gone to an art opening at a small gallery on Twenty-Fifth Street. The artist, Eric Fury, was one Jackson had discovered a few years ago and had introduced to his collector friends. The moment they’d entered the gallery, they had been surrounded. It’d been clear not only that Jackson was well known but also that people wanted to be in the orbit of his power and charm. Amber had been careful not to put her arm in his or appear too intimate.

As soon as Eric Fury saw Jackson, he’d rushed over to shake his hand.

“Jackson. Wonderful to see you.” He swept his arm around to indicate the crowded room. “Isn’t it great?”

“It is, Eric, and you deserve every bit of it,” Jackson said.

“It’s all thanks to you. I can never tell you how grateful I am.”

“Nonsense. I just made the introductions. Your art speaks for itself. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have the talent.”

Fury turned to Amber. “You must be Daphne.”

“Actually, this is my assistant, Amber Patterson. Unfortunately, my wife was unable to be here, but she loves your work as much as I do.”

Amber extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fury. I read recently that you’re moving away from canvas and instead painting on wood you collect from old buildings.”

Jackson had looked at her in surprise, and Fury said, “You are absolutely right, Miss Patterson. It’s a statement about what we lose when we let historical edifices be torn down.”

Suddenly a man appeared with a camera. “Hey, Mr. Fury. How about a photo for tomorrow’s edition?”

Eric smiled and stood next to Jackson as Amber quickly moved away from the twosome. The last thing she needed was another picture of her in the newspaper.

“Okay, kid. Get back to your fans and sell some art,” Jackson said when the photographer finished. When the artist walked away, Jackson walked over to where Amber stood admiring one of the works.

“I didn’t realize you knew anything about Eric Fury,” he said.

“I don’t really. But when you asked if I wanted to go to the exhibit, I read up on him. I always like to know something beforehand. It makes the experience much more rewarding.”

He nodded his head in approval. “Impressive.”

Amber smiled.

“That was discreet of you. Moving out of the picture. I hope you didn’t feel uncomfortable,” he said.

That was funny. He thought she was protecting him. “Not at all. You know I’ll always have your back.” She smiled and moved a little closer to him. “And your front too,” she whispered.

“I think it’s time to split,” he said.

“You’re the boss.”

As they circled the room, bidding everyone good night, Amber experienced just what it would feel like to be Jackson’s wife, to be at the center of the universe with him — and it felt sublime. She only needed to bide her time.

They grabbed a taxi back to the apartment and were practically tearing each other’s clothes off as the private elevator ascended. They never got to the bedroom, but made furious love on the living room floor. That was one of the things Amber especially loved — she made sure that they’d had sex in every room, even both of the girls’ bedrooms. That one had been a challenge, but she wanted her scent everywhere, like an alley cat.

She heard the shower going and turned lazily to look at the clock on the night stand. Seven thirty! Jackson came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, his chest still shiny with dampness. He sat on the edge of the bed and ruffled her hair. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“I didn’t even hear the alarm. I’ll get up.”

“You put on quite a show last night. No wonder you’re exhausted.” He leaned down and gave her a long, sensuous kiss.

“Ooh, come back to bed,” she cooed.

He ran his hand down the front of her body. “Nothing I’d like more, but remember? I have a ten o’clock with Harding and Harding.”

“Oh, that’s right. Sorry I kept you up so late.”

“Don’t ever apologize for that.” He rose, dropped the towel, and began dressing. Amber snuggled against the pillow and admired the toned and muscular body that she now knew so intimately. He finished dressing as she slowly got out of bed. “I’m off,” he said as he pulled her naked body to him. “Give me a kiss and hustle. We need to prepare for that meeting.”

Amber hurriedly poured a glass of juice and then got into the shower. She chose the red Oscar de la Renta suit Jackson had bought for her last week and was out the door close to eight. She made it to the office by eight forty-five and strolled into Jackson’s office. She knew he was watching her as she strutted in the fitted jacket and short skirt that hugged her bottom.

At twelve o’clock, the meeting in Jackson’s office was still going on when Amber looked up to see Daphne approaching her desk. She looked like she had gained more weight and was not her usual, impeccable self. Her lipstick was mussed, her blouse so tight that the buttons were straining. Amber noticed, too, that she wore no jewelry other than her ring.

Amber rose from her desk. “Daphne, what a surprise. Is everything all right?” What was she doing here?

“Yes, everything’s fine. I was in town and just wondered if Jackson might be available for lunch.”

“Was he expecting you?”

“Well, no. I just took a chance. I tried calling you to get his schedule, but they said you weren’t in yet. Is he here?”

Amber stood up straighter. “He’s in a meeting with a group of investors. I’m not sure when they’ll be finished.”

Daphne looked disappointed. “Oh. Did the meeting just start?”

Amber shuffled some papers on her desk. “I don’t know. I had car trouble this morning, so I missed my train. That’s why I was late.” She stared at Daphne.

“Well, maybe I’ll wait a little bit. Do you mind if I sit in here with you? I won’t bother you if you have work to do.”

“Of course not. Please have a seat.”

“By the way, that’s a beautiful suit you’re wearing.”

“Thank you. I got it at a consignment shop here in the city. Amazing what you can find for cheap.” She wanted to add, and guess whose red bra and panties I’m wearing.

Daphne sat, and Amber went back to the pile of work on her desk while fielding phone calls.

“You’ve really taken to this job, haven’t you? Jackson says he wouldn’t know what to do without you. I knew you’d be perfect for him.”

Amber bristled. She was sick and tired of Daphne patronizing her. She was so out of tune with her own husband’s needs and desires it was laughable.

Just then, the door to Jackson’s office opened and the four-member Harding and Harding team stood there shaking hands and saying their good-byes. Amber could tell from the look on Jackson’s face that the meeting had gone well. She was glad. This would mean a financial leap into a whole new stratosphere. Jackson, now standing alone, looked surprised to see Daphne.

“Hi, darling,” she said, rising from her chair and embracing him.

“Daphne, how nice. What are you doing in New York?”

“Can we go into your office?” she asked in a sweet voice.

Jackson followed her in and closed the door behind them. After twenty minutes, Amber was fuming. What could possibly be going on in there? Suddenly, Jackson was at the door and said, “Amber, can you come in and bring my schedule with you? I seem to have erased it somehow.”

Daphne looked up as Amber entered. “You see, Amber? What on earth would he do without you? Jackson’s just been telling me what an innovator you are.”

“How’s my afternoon looking, Amber? My wife wants to take me to lunch.”

Amber pulled up the calendar on her iPhone. “It looks like you have a lunch appointment at twelve forty-five with Margot Samuelson from Atkins Insurance.” He didn’t, but Amber wasn’t about to let Jackson and Daphne have a meal together. She turned to Daphne. “I’m so sorry you came in for nothing.”

Daphne got up from her seat. “Don’t worry. I had to come in for a foundation meeting this morning. It’s no problem.” She walked behind the desk and gave Jackson a kiss. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be home for dinner.”

“Good. We’ve missed you.”

Amber walked her out, and Daphne gave her a hug. “I’m glad he’s coming home tonight. The girls miss him. He never used to stay overnight in the city this often. Are you sure you’re not noticing anything suspicious? No one calling here for him or anything?”

“Believe me, Daphne — no one is calling or coming around. I even stayed at the apartment one night when you and Jackson were at the lake, and there’s no sign that anyone but Jackson has been there. It’s just a super-busy season here. I’m sure there’ve been times like this before.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. There have been. It feels different this time, though.”

“I think you’re imagining things.”

“Thanks for keeping me on an even keel.”

“Anytime.”

Once Daphne was gone, Amber went straight to Jackson’s office. “What did she want?”

“She wanted to have lunch, just like she said.”

“You were alone a long time. What was that all about?”

“Whoa. She’s my wife, remember?”

Amber did her best to backpedal. “I know. Sorry. It’s just…” She choked back fake tears. “It’s just that I care about you so much, I can’t stand the thought of your being with anyone else.”

Jackson got up from his desk chair and opened his arms. “Come here, you little worrier.” He hugged her, and she held on to him tightly. “Stop fretting. It will all work out, I promise you.”

Amber knew better than to challenge him by asking him how and when it was all going to work out. “You’re going back to Connecticut tonight?”

He moved her back, his hands on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. “I have to. Besides, I want to check things at home. Daphne looks like she’s having problems.”

“Yes, I noticed that too. She’s gained more weight, hasn’t she?” Amber said.

“She looked sloppy, and that’s not like her. I want to check on the girls too, make sure everything’s okay.”

Amber wiggled back into his arms. “I’ll miss you so much.”

He dropped his arms and walked to the office door. Amber was already unzipping her skirt as she heard the lock click.

Thirty-Four

Jackson told Amber he had a surprise for her. The chauffeur picked them up from the apartment and drove them to Teterboro Airport, where a private jet waited for them. When Amber saw the airfield, she turned to Jackson. “What are we doing?” she asked.

Jackson pulled her closer to him. “We’re taking a little trip.”

“A trip? Where? I don’t have any clothes with me.”

“Of course you don’t. But you won’t be in them much anyway,” he said with a laugh.

“Jackson!” Amber feigned outrage. “But really. I didn’t pack anything.”

“Don’t worry — there are stores in Paris.”

“Paris?” she cried. “Oh, Jackson. We’re going to Paris?”

“The most romantic city in the world.”

Amber unbuckled her seat belt, slid onto Jackson’s lap, and kissed him. They almost undressed right there in the car, but they had pulled to a stop near the jet stairs. Jackson was the first to pull away. “Here we are,” he said, and opened his door.

They boarded the plane, and Amber looked around while Jackson talked to the pilot. The only planes she’d been on were commercial airliners crowded with rows and rows of seats, and naturally, Amber had never sat anywhere but in economy. Even that time she’d met Jackson and the family in London, she had flown commercially. She knew that private jets existed, but she’d never imagined they looked like this. Supple leather sofas in a beautiful cream color sat on both sides of the plane, facing each other. There was a large-screen TV, and a dining table for four had a round crystal vase filled with fresh flowers. A door opened onto a bedroom with a king-size bed, and the bathroom was almost as luxurious as the one in the New York apartment. In fact, Amber thought, it was like being in a smaller but just as sumptuous home.

Jackson came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. “You like?”

“What’s not to like?”

“Follow me,” he said.

He led her into the bedroom, where he opened the closet doors. Indicating a mass of clothing hanging there, he said, “Look through them and decide what you want to keep. Keep all of them if you like.”

“When did you have time to do this?”

“I took care of it last week,” he said.

Amber went to the closet and went through the hangers one by one, examining the dresses, tops, pants, jackets, and sweaters, every one still with a tag on it. Obviously, he’d bought them just for her. She excitedly began pulling them out to try on, kicking off her shoes and removing her dress. Jackson sat on the bed. “You don’t mind if I watch this little show, do you?”

“Not one little bit.”

She tried on every last piece, modeling them for Jackson, who approved of it all. Of course, he had chosen everything, so it stood to reason that he would.

“There are shoes in there too. Up top, on the shelf,” he said.

“You think of everything, don’t you?”

“I do.”

Amber looked up and counted fifteen shoe boxes with names she had only dreamed about. Each pair cost about the same as her monthly rent, some of them even more. When she got to the Jimmy Choos with white suede, crystals, and ostrich feathers, she put them on and took off everything else, then wiggled into the delicious red and black lace corset he’d bought for her. She felt like a movie star, with her stupendously expensive duds, a private jet to travel in, and a gorgeous man dying to make love to her. She walked over to Jackson, still seated on the bed, and, running her fingers through his hair, pulled his face against her chest. She pushed him down and began to work her magic. In a matter of seconds, she would do her best to take him to another world.

Later they had dinner by candlelight, Amber still in her high heels, but now with a silk robe over her naked body.

“I’m famished,” she said as she cut into her filet mignon.

“No wonder. You must have burned up five thousand calories.”

“If I could stay in bed with you and never have to come up for air or food, I would be the happiest girl alive.” She made sure to stroke his ego every chance she got.

Jackson raised his wineglass. “That would be a perfect world, my hungry little sexaholic.”

When they landed at Le Bourget Airport in Paris, they were whisked by chauffeur to the Hotel Plaza Athénée. Amber loved the hotel, with its red awnings and crimson bouquets everywhere you looked. She toured its 35,000-bottle wine cellar and was pampered at the Dior Institut spa. It was the most glorious week of her life, strolling along the Champs- Élysées and dining in intimate cafés with soft lighting and delectable food. The Eiffel Tower thrilled her. She was overwhelmed by the vastness of the Louvre and its masterpieces, moved by the grand edifice of Notre-Dame, and charmed by the city’s amber hue as lights glowed in the twilight. And in between this eye-opening journey, she never let Jackson forget how virile and exciting she found him.

The visit had seemed to fly by, Amber thought as they boarded the private plane for their return. She sat without speaking for the next hour, while Jackson gathered papers from his briefcase and began making notes. When he finished, she went over and sat next to him.

“This has been the most wonderful week of my life. You’ve really opened up my world.”

Jackson smiled but said nothing.

“It’s been heaven having you all to myself. I hate the thought of sharing you with Daphne.”

Jackson frowned, and Amber knew immediately that she’d made a mistake. She never should have mentioned her. Now he was probably thinking about Daphne and the girls. Damn. She usually didn’t make that kind of slipup. She’d have to try to recover.

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally said. “How would you feel about having your own apartment in New York?”

She was nonplussed. “Why would I want that? I like living in Connecticut. Besides, when I want to stay in New York with you, we have your place.”

“But it’s getting complicated. If you had your own apartment, you could have all your own things there. You wouldn’t have to hide your clothes or make sure they’re out of my apartment in case Daphne comes into the city.”

She didn’t want her own place. She wanted Daphne’s place.

When she didn’t answer, Jackson went on. “I’d buy it for you, of course. We’d furnish it together, buy all the art and books you love. It would be our own hideaway. Just ours.”

Their hideaway. She didn’t want to be hidden. She wanted to be very much out in the open, to be Mrs. Jackson Parrish.

“I don’t know, Jackson. It might be too soon for something like that. Besides, wouldn’t Daphne wonder how I got the money for a New York apartment? And what about Gregg? I’ve been able to hold him off, but if he thinks I’m a New York sophisticate, I won’t be able to play the innocent little girl. And we have to keep up that little charade for Daphne’s sake — although I’m having more and more trouble keeping Gregg’s hands off me. I’ve stopped him a couple of times before he could finish what I think was going to be a proposal.”

Jackson’s face grew red, just as Amber had hoped. “Have you slept with him?”

“Really? Are you serious?” She took the napkin from her lap and threw it on the table. “I’m finished.” She rose from her chair and strode into the bedroom. She wasn’t going to be cast aside again. It felt like her plans were all going awry. Oh, Jackson was under her spell at the moment, and he was buying her expensive things and taking her on fabulous trips, but she wanted more — much more. And she’d be damned if she was going to let anything stand in her way, especially now that she’d missed two periods.

Thirty-Five

Tonight was the night. Amber was now ten weeks pregnant and couldn’t hide it much longer. Jackson thought she was on the pill, and she’d even made sure to get a prescription and take a pill out of the dispenser each day so he wouldn’t be suspicious. Then she’d flush it. The only medication she was taking was Clomid, for fertility. She probably didn’t need it, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She needed to get pregnant before he tired of her. She had been a little worried about twins, but then she figured, if one was good, two would be even better.

She’d hoped to find out the sex at the last appointment, but it was apparently still too soon. With the computer skills she’d honed in months of night classes, she’d been able to doctor the image from the ultrasound, so she’d tell him it was a boy. By the time they were married, if she ended up having a girl, it would be too late for him to do anything about it anyway.

She’d gone to Babesta earlier in the day and bought a bib—“Daddy’s little boy”—that she planned to give him tonight after they made love. Then he’d finally leave Daphne, and she could drop the facade and stop pretending to be her friend. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Daphne’s face when she found out that Amber was pregnant. It would be almost as delicious as telling Bella she wouldn’t be the youngest anymore. Move over, baby, you’re old news now.

Once she was Mrs. Parrish, those two brats were on borrowed time. They could go to community college as far as she was concerned. But she was getting ahead of herself; first, she had to convince Jackson to leave them.

When Jackson arrived at the apartment, Amber was wearing a black leather corset and collar. Daphne had complained to her on a recent night out that Jackson’s tastes were becoming more unconventional. When she’d pressed for more details, the prude had turned red and mentioned something about restraints. Amber had decided to test the waters, and what she’d found was that Jackson was craving more adventure in the sack. She’d gladly given it to him, and together they’d scoured a few online stores and ordered all sorts of interesting sex toys. She encouraged him to push the limits, was ready to do whatever she had to, to make him compare Daphne unfavorably to her. She kept all their toys in a drawer in the guest room, half hoping Daphne might snoop when she was there and Amber could have a nice laugh at her expense. But Daphne never mentioned anything to her.

“That was amazing.” She nuzzled closer to him. “If I were Daphne, I’d never let you out of my bed.” She bit his earlobe.

“I don’t want to talk about Daphne,” he whispered.

She giggled. “She likes to talk about you.”

He sat up, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just little wifely complaints. No big deal.”

“I want to know. What did she say?” There was a hard edge to his voice.

She slid back so she could see his face, her finger tracing a pattern on his chest as she spoke. “Just stuff about how she’s at a point in her life when she wants to chill out, and you’re always pushing her to socialize. Said she’d rather stay home and watch old Law & Order reruns. I told her she was lucky to go places with you, but she just shook her head and said she was getting too old for all these dinners and galas keeping her out late.” It was a total lie, but so what. He’d never know.

She watched his face to see how he reacted, pleased to see his jaw clench.

“I don’t appreciate the two of you discussing me.” He slid from the bed and threw on his silk robe.

Amber went to him, still naked, and pressed herself against him. “We don’t talk about you, I promise. She just complains and I defend you, then change the subject. I adore you, you know that.” She hoped he believed that.

His eyes narrowed. He didn’t look convinced.

She changed her approach. “I think Daphne’s out of her element. You’re so brilliant and accomplished. You know all about art and culture, and she… well, she’s just kind of a simple girl. It’s hard to keep up the pretense.”

“I suppose,” he said.

“Come back to bed. I have a surprise.”

He shook his head. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go to the living room. I have a present for you.” She grabbed his hand.

He yanked it back from her. “Stop telling me what to do. You’re starting to sound like a nagging wife.”

She felt tears of rage spring to her eyes. How dare he talk to her like that? She swallowed her anger and made her voice sweet. It wouldn’t do to let him see how pissed she was. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Would you like a drink?”

“I’ll get it myself.”

She didn’t follow him, but sat down and forced herself to read a magazine, then another to give him some time to cool off. After about an hour, she retrieved the small gold bag with the bib from inside the closet and carried it into the living room. He was sitting in one of the dining room chairs, still brooding.

“Here you go.”

“What is it?”

“Open it, silly.”

He moved aside the tissue paper and pulled out the bib. He looked up at her, puzzled.

She took his hand and put it on her belly. “Your baby is in here.”

His mouth dropped open. “You’re pregnant? With a boy?”

She nodded. “Yes. I couldn’t believe it myself. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. There’s something else in there.”

He rooted around and found the sonogram picture.

“That’s our son.” Her smile was victorious.

“A boy? Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

He stood up, grinning from ear to ear, and picked her up. “This is wonderful news. I’d given up on ever having a son. Now you have to let me get you a place here.”

Was he serious? “A place here?”

“Well, yes. You can’t very well stay where you are now.”

The blood was pounding in her ears. “You’re right, Jackson. I can’t. And I don’t want my son to grow up wondering why his father has him hidden in some back alley. He needs to be with family. Once he’s born, we’ll go back to Nebraska.”

She turned and stomped from the room.

“Amber, wait!”

She threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and began packing a bag. Did he really expect her to go on being his secret now that she was giving him an heir? He was crazy if he thought she’d let Daphne continue to reap the benefits of being Mrs. Parrish while she worked in his office like a slave and he snuck in visits to his son. The hell with that.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving! I thought you loved me. What a fool I’ve been. I don’t see Daphne giving you a son, although she looks more pregnant than I do.”

He grabbed her hands. “Stop. I was insensitive. Let’s talk.”

“What’s there to talk about? Either we’re going to be a family, or we’re not.”

He sat down on the bed and ran his hand through his hair. “I need to think. We’ll figure this out. Don’t even think about moving away.”

“She doesn’t appreciate you, Jackson. She told me she cringes when you touch her. But I love you so much. All I want to do is take care of you, be the wife you deserve. I’ll always put you first — even before this child. You’re everything to me.” She got down on her knees, the way he liked, and showed him just how much she adored him. When she finished, he pulled her to him.

“How was that, Daddy?”

He gave her an inscrutable smile and stood up, picking up the sonogram picture again. His fingers traced it.

“My son.” He looked up at Amber. “Does anyone else know? Your mother, your friends?”

She shook her head. “Of course not. I wanted you to be the first.”

“Good. Don’t tell anyone yet. I have to figure out a way to get out of this marriage without Daphne taking me to the cleaners. If she finds out you’re pregnant, it could cost me a lot of money.”

Amber nodded. “I understand. I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”

He continued to sit, a look of such deep concentration on his face that she was afraid to speak.

Finally he stood and began to pace back and forth. “Okay. This is how we’re going to play it. You’ll get everything out of this apartment, and we’ll move you into a rental for now. If Daphne gets suspicious, the last thing we need is for her to find your things here.”

“But Jackson,” she whined, “I don’t want to move to some awful rental. I’ll be all alone.”

He stopped pacing and stared at her. “What do you mean, ‘Some awful rental’? What kind of cheapskate do you think I am? If you don’t want an apartment, we’ll get a large suite at the Plaza. You’ll have people to wait on your every need.”

“But what about you? When will I see you?”

“We have to be careful, Amber. I’m going to have to spend a little more time at home. You know, to allay any suspicion. You’ll have to stop working once you’re showing. Stay out of the way, so no talk gets back to Daphne.”

“And what am I supposed to tell Daphne? She’ll get suspicious if I stop hanging out with her.”

He chewed his lip and then nodded. “You’ll say someone in your family is sick. You’re taking some time off to go help.”

This was beginning to sound like a bad plan to Amber. She’d be stuck away in some hotel, completely dependent on his being true to his word. It felt like she was being put out on a boat without a life jacket or a paddle and could be swept away at Jackson’s whim.

“I don’t want to be in some impersonal hotel. It won’t be good for me to be in some strange place that doesn’t feel like home. It won’t be good for the baby either.”

He sighed. “Fine. We’ll rent an apartment. A nice one that will feel like home. You can buy whatever you’d like for it.”

She thought about that a few minutes. It was probably the best offer she was going to get at this point. “How long?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a few months? We should settle it all by then.”

She was angry and scared now, which made it easy to cry. “I hate this, Jackson. I love you so much, and now we’re going to have to be separated. I’ll be alone in some apartment that isn’t even ours. It makes me feel so afraid, the way I used to feel when I was little and we moved all the time because we couldn’t pay the rent.” She sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheeks, hoping this tale of woe might move him.

He gave her a long look. “Do you want me to lose everything? You’re just going to have to trust me.”

He wasn’t biting. She’d have to go along with the plan and hope he meant what he said until she could come up with something else. But what if he proved to be untrustworthy? Then what? She’d be shit out of luck, just like she was when she fled from Missouri. She wasn’t going to let him get away with throwing her and this kid she was carrying aside, even if she had to take more drastic action this time. No more screwing Amber. Those days were over.