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.
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.
