Chapter 12 Amber

Amber stood at the front door waiting for Remi. The two of them planned to drive into New York, go to the jewelry presentation, and have dinner afterward. Amber had never attended a trunk show, so she had done a little reading about them beforehand. Apparently, the current trend was to do these events virtually, with goods offered and purchases completed online. The White Orchid Designs show, however, was strictly in person and was being held at the Baccarat Hotel to reveal new creations not yet for sale to the general public. The designers would be there to answer questions and, Amber assumed, proudly parade themselves before the adoring attendees.

When Remi's Chiron pulled up, Amber threw her shoulders back and, raising her head slightly, strode to the car.

"Hi. Thanks for driving," she said as she slid into the soft seat of the bright orange and black interior.

"Of course. I'm glad to have company." Remi put the car in gear, and they sped off. The combination of Bugatti and Remi's driving always gave Amber the feeling of being launched from a rocket.

As they sped along the Merritt, Remi ricocheted from lane to lane, passing anyone doing less than eighty. "How long have you been training for Le Mans?" Amber asked.

Remi's silvery laugh filled the small space. "I am impatient, no? Am I frightening you?"

"Not at all. Impatient people don't wait for things to happen. They make them happen."

Remi looked briefly at Amber and then back to the road ahead. "Hmm. That is quite a philosophy you have there."

"Well, obviously impatience must be undergirded with patience. If that makes sense."

Remi nodded and smiled, her eyes still locked on the road, and Amber admired her profile—the straight nose and high cheekbone. As always, Remi looked perfect. Around her neck she wore a pearl choker, a perfect complement to her white silk wrap dress. Amber had chosen to wear a simple black dress, sleeveless and fitted. At the last minute she'd taken off the diamond studs and replaced them with small gold earrings, then slipped on a wide gold bangle and her wedding rings. She'd admired herself in the mirror, feeling sophisticated and chic, but somehow Amber never felt she quite measured up to Remi's matchless style.

The hour-and-fifteen-minute drive from Bishops Harbor to Manhattan took Remi fifty-five minutes, and they pulled up to the Baccarat with time to spare. Amber saw the hotel valet's eyes widen as Remi got out of the car and handed him the keys along with several bills. "We shouldn't be more than two hours," she said to him.

The two women walked through the large, crowded lobby and took the elevator to the second-floor Petit Salon. A uniformed man stood at the entrance and looked at Remi's invitation, nodding and, with a smile, admitting them. It was not at all as Amber had pictured it. The suite looked like it was set up for an art exhibit, with sculpted stands of modern shapes and sizes spread around the space. On top of these obelisks sat one-of-a-kind pieces of jewelry, sparkling under the crisp white lights shining upon them. As they perused the displays, the room began to fill, and an undertow of excitement swelled.

Amber stopped to admire a silver necklace that was made up of a myriad of what appeared to be tiny branches woven intricately together. "Remi, look at this. Isn't it magnificent?"

"Mais oui. Très charmant."

Amber stepped back and shook her head, awed by the artistry. "They're all so beautiful. I want everything."

"Have a glass of wine and then decide," Remi said, as a waiter approached.

Amber took a glass of red from the tray and sipped. She was not in any way a connoisseur, but she knew that what she was tasting was fine wine. As they continued wandering around the room, Amber saw at least five pieces that she'd love to own, but the one with the branches was the one she just had to have.

"I'm going to go take another look at the necklace with the little branches," she said to Remi.

Remi cocked her head to one side and looked past Amber. "I think Rory is going to say a few words. I've met him many times. A wonderful silversmith and artist. You'll enjoy hearing what he has to say."

A tall man with silver hair pulled back into a ponytail tapped against his wineglass and the crowd hushed and fixed their attention on him.

"Greetings to all of you and thank you so much for coming tonight. I'm Rory Delacorte, and this is one of my favorite evenings of the year when we have the chance to share our new design creations with you. Your opinions and impressions are invaluable to us, and, of course, so too are your purchases." At this there was a ripple of laughter, after which he talked for several more minutes about the crafting and handwork that went into the fabrication of the jewelry. Then he raised his glass to the crowd and said, "Thank you again. Take your time and look around. I am here to answer any questions. And I would love to hear your comments as well."

Amber observed the people present and for a split second the old feeling of not belonging swept over her. She straightened her shoulders and inhaled, shaking it off. She had as much right to be here as anyone else, she told herself. She was probably cleverer than half the people here, and she certainly had the money to buy whatever she wanted.

"Would you like to meet Rory?" Remi asked.

"I'd love to," Amber said, feeling confident and sure of herself once again.

"Come." She took Amber's hand and headed to him.

"Rory, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Amber Parrish. She's a great admirer of White Orchid's designs."

Amber extended her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Delacorte."

"The pleasure is all mine. I'm glad you could come tonight. Is there a piece you particularly like?" he said.

"Yes, actually there is. It's the one over there." She pointed to the stand.

"Ah, yes. The twigs. You have a very good eye."

"Is it for sale?" Amber asked.

"Yes, of course. Everything here is." He looked past her and then back. "You're in luck. The owner and daughter of the designer of that particular piece is here."

Amber turned to see a stunning blonde walk toward them from across the room. As she got closer, Amber's pulse began to race, and she broke out in a sweat. It couldn't be. She turned toward Rory. "If you'll excuse me, I just remembered…"

He put a hand on her arm. "Wait, wait. You must meet Daisy Ann."

Amber took a swallow of her wine and exhaled.

"Daisy Ann, you have a new fan," Rory said, extending a hand to her.

Amber's back was still to her as she joined them.

"Oh, how nice," Daisy Ann said as she took her place next to him, but her voice turned hard the moment Amber pivoted to face her. "How did you get in here?"

Amber tried to speak, but no words would come. She looked helplessly at Remi and then Rory, both of whom were regarding Daisy Ann with puzzled expressions.

"She's my guest," Remi finally said.

"And she's interested in the twigs," Rory continued.

Daisy Ann's eyes were blazing. "You'll never own any White Orchid designs, you murderer!" Her voice cut through the room and there was dead silence. Everyone was staring at them.

Remi gasped, and Rory's brows knitted in a frown. "Daisy Ann, what's going on?"

Amber froze, her heart banging in her chest, as her eyes darted around the room, desperate for a way to disappear before things went any further.

A bitter laugh escaped Daisy Ann. "This, this…gold digger. She's the one who tricked my father into marrying her and then shot him point-blank. She got away with murder. I had to buy her off to get her to leave my house." She punctuated each sentence with a poke of her index finger to Amber's chest. "She's nothing but trash. A lowlife, lying, murdering piece of garbage."

Amber put her hand up. "Daisy Ann, you know that's not true. I was cleared. You have to stop…"

"Get out. I don't want to hear a single word from you. You're a lying bitch." She turned toward the room and pointed at Amber. "Don't trust this woman. She's a sociopath."

Completely overcome with embarrassment, Amber felt paralyzed as she looked at the sea of faces staring at her. The last time she had seen Daisy Ann had been after Jake Crawford's funeral when the family's snotty lawyer read Jake's will. Daisy Ann had taken great delight in delivering the news to Amber that she had inherited close to nothing. After all of Amber's research into Texas estate law, she had believed as Jake's wife she was entitled to half his assets as well as the family domicile. But apparently, before Amber came around, some other smart woman had made off with millions by marrying him on the rebound after his beloved wife died, and then divorcing him shortly afterward. Jake's precious daughter had convinced him to put everything in her name after that fiasco. All those months of planning, of turning herself into a woman who reminded him of his dead wife, sharing the bed of a man more than forty years her senior and all for nothing. She'd ended up leaving with a paltry hundred grand that was in Jake's name in a bank account instead of the millions she'd been due. And now she was faced with the same look of disgust from Daisy Ann, as if Amber were nothing more than a clump of dirt on her shoe. She grabbed Remi's arm, steering her away, and they made a fast retreat. Once in the elevator, Remi looked at her with what Amber could tell was suspicion.

"Amber, what was she talking about? Were you married to her father?"

Amber was fuming. Her past was always trying to catch up with her. Her marriage to Jake was over three years ago, and Daisy Ann had humiliated her back then, kicking her out of the house right after his funeral, treating her like she was some kind of scum. Her face was burning and the look of all those women just now, staring at her in horror, flashed before her. She could only hope that it wouldn't be all over Bishops Harbor by tomorrow. Just another reason for them to ostracize her. She'd worked hard at building a life, staking her claim in upscale society, even overcoming Jackson being sent to prison. And now that spoiled bitch might have destroyed it all in just seconds. Well, Amber wasn't a poor little nobody anymore. She had money. Plenty of it. And smarts. Daisy Ann thought she could keep Amber from owning one of her designs. No problem. She was going to figure out a way to own all of them and put that bitch in her place for good.