Liv Constantine - The Last Mrs. Parrish

“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.

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.