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.
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
