The Last Mrs Parrish. Liv Constantine
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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.
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 Tallulah, tall and thin with glasses and a plain face, appeared quiet and withdrawn.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,