Chapter 7 Amber

Jackson's welcome home party was tonight. She should be strolling down the Champs-élysées instead of stuck in Bishops Harbor, but until she played her part in Jackson's little scheme she was grounded with no passport. Amber soaked in the freestanding spa tub, anticipating with relish the looks of awe, and probably even disappointment, she would see on the faces of tonight's party guests. Every one of them would be happy to see her down and out, but none of them would ever entertain the thought of snubbing her or missing her party. Except for that bitch Meredith Stanton, that is. She remained true-blue to Daphne, and her iciness to Amber could have frozen the Sahara. As president of the Historical Society, and one of Bishops Harbor's most vaunted society bitches, Meredith practically had a stroke when Amber was nominated to the board, something that made Amber smile every time she thought about it. The woman might have oozed class and old money, but she was stuck in the last century with her Gerard Darel corduroys, Strathberry purses, and ubiquitous string of pearls.

She lifted a slender leg from the water and wiggled her toes. She was on top of the world, her bank account was fat, and she and Jackson were ready to move forward with their new agreement and plans. Suddenly the bathroom door opened and Jax came in, all noise and clatter.

"Mommy, Mommy," he squealed, running to the bathtub and plunging his small hands into the water.

Amber plopped her leg down with a splash and looked past him to Chloe, their nanny. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not to be disturbed while I'm in the bath?"

"I'm sorry. He was asking for you and I thought you might like to see him before the party. Since, you know, you'll be very busy once you've finished bathing."

Amber exhaled. "Fine. He can stay for a few minutes. But after that, as you said, I'll be very busy." She touched her son's cheek. He really was a pretty child, but how could he not be with Jackson and her as parents? She loved it when people admired Jax and told her how beautiful he was. It had been a while since Amber had seen a photograph of her other son, but she would bet anything he wasn't anywhere near as good-looking as Jax. Too bad. And too bad for him too that he was being raised by another woman. Oh well, it didn't matter. Jax was all hers, for now anyway. She smiled and gave his ear a gentle pinch. "How is Mama's little cutie pie. Have you been a good boy today?"

He giggled and did the part-talking, part-gibberish thing that was so tiresome. She'd enjoy him much more if he could actually speak in full intelligible sentences, but she supposed it would be at least another year before that happened and she would be gone by then. One thing she had done was to hire a French nanny for him just like the one Bella and Tallulah had had. Amber wasn't about to let those girls be the only Parrish children who could speak French. Amber herself had been taking lessons for the past year.

She let him continue playing in the water, at one point handing him the sea wool sponge to squeeze and dip and squeeze again, over and over. After fifteen minutes of this she reached out, tousling his hair, and said, "Okay, little one. It's time for you to go with Chloe," and nodded to the nanny.

After they'd gone, Amber stepped out of the tub, wrapping herself in a Turkish cotton towel. For tonight she'd chosen a very short, wildly colored paisley Versace, with slender straps that formed a V and a drape that fell gracefully across one hip. It was the perfect summer dress, sexy and refined at the same time. She smoothed a velvety lotion over her body until her skin glistened, moving on to her hair and makeup. When she finally slipped the dress over her shoulders, the feel of it against her naked body was delicious; no bra, no underwear, just the fine fabric caressing her skin. Standing in front of the mirror, she winked at her stunning reflection. Minimal makeup, hair pulled back in a glossy bun, toned and tanned arms and legs. Apart from her diamond engagement and wedding rings, the only jewelry she wore were enormous Roberto Coin gold hoop earrings. All eyes would be on her.

Amber had given the caterers detailed instructions and as she walked outside to the terrace and swimming pool, she saw with approval that all her directions had been followed to the letter. Multicolored Hoi An silk lanterns hung from tree branches throughout the garden and lawn, and floating candle wish-lanterns skimmed across the surface of the pool water. Cloth-covered tables and chairs were placed on the terrace, which was illuminated with hundreds of flickering tea lights. The effect was otherworldly. At one end of the terrace a bar was set up, and Jackson stood there now, one elbow leaning casually on it, a drink in his hand.

"You're looking rather mouthwatering tonight," he said without expression as she approached.

Amber looked past him at the bartender who'd been in her bed earlier that morning. Her gaze rested on him for a split second and then she turned and smiled at Jackson. "All for my dear husband who is finally home."

Jackson let out a humorless laugh. "Right." He gulped down the remainder of his drink and put the empty glass on the bar. "Fill 'er up, buddy," he said, without looking at the bartender. "I see our first guests are arriving." He nodded toward the sliding glass wall that made the interior of the house flow to the outside terrace. "Shall we act the loving couple and greet them together?" He grabbed his refill with one hand and put his other arm around Amber's waist as they walked in step to welcome the first arrivals, Bob and Helene Lloyd.

"Amber, don't you look lovely. And, Jackson, it must feel wonderful to be home," Helene said.

"Thank you," Jackson said, and extended his hand. "Good to see you both."

"You too. Welcome back," Bob said, as they shook hands.

After a few minutes of small talk, Amber grew bored. "Will you excuse me, please, while I go check on something with the caterer?" she said with an apologetic smile, leaving Jackson with the Lloyds as she moved away from the trio.

Amber hadn't missed the strained smile and once-over from Helene. Along with Meredith Stanton and her husband, Randolph, Lloyd and Helene were at the pinnacle of Bishops Harbor's social pecking order and winning them over had been a coup for Amber. It had taken time and ingenuity, but that was something Amber had in spades. Helene was the chairperson for the garden club's annual Kentucky Derby party. Amber had been a lowly committee member, relegated to set up and clean up. An hour before the party, she had disabled the Wi-Fi with the handy device she'd bought on Amazon. She thought Helene was going to have a stroke. How were they going to watch the race? Amber let her run around in a tizzy for a good fifteen minutes before she offered to run home and get an HDMI cable. Helene had looked at her with a puzzled and annoyed expression.

"What good is that going to do? No one can figure out why the Wi-Fi is down. This is a disaster."

Amber calmly explained. "I can stream the race on my phone using data and connect my phone to the television, which is already connected to the large screen."

"You know how to do that?"

Amber smiled at her. "Yes, I've run a few events myself." She couldn't help adding, "One must always be prepared for every contingency." After that Helene magically remembered her name and ceased publicly snubbing her. Of course, the friendship was superficial at best, but having Helene as a bosom buddy was of no interest to Amber. She was interested only in being seen with her. And the thorn in Meredith's side was an added bonus.

Amber strolled through the crowd greeting guests and stopping briefly to speak with the caterer when she spotted Remi Whitlock talking with a group of people. Remi's husband, Norris, was in Paris on business tonight. Amber picked up her pace and walked over to her.

"Remi, I'm so glad to see you. I thought you would be in Paris with Norris," Amber said, giving her a quick hug.

"I'm leaving next week."

"You changed your plans to be here tonight?"

"But of course. Norris could not change his plans, unfortunately, but I wouldn't have missed Jackson's homecoming," Remi said.

"He's happy to be home."

"And you, mon petit oiseau, look quite magnifique. You are happy too, I see." Remi's eyes twinkled with merriment.

"Mais naturellement." Amber smiled.

Remi Whitlock, the woman who'd referred Amber to her lawyer, was the epitome of unstudied elegance and chic. From the moment Amber met her, she'd been a bit in awe of Remi's relaxed self-assurance and her captivating charm. It wasn't even that she was beautiful, because she wasn't, but she had a certain allure that was intriguing, and her French accent only added to it. Remi was enormously wealthy with dwellings in Paris, New York, London, and Saint Bart's, in addition to her Bishops Harbor home. The woman was self-made, although the details of how she'd amassed such a fortune were hazy. There was talk of art deals and a goods broker in Belgium, but Amber never probed too closely. She sensed an element of danger, and her instincts told her she'd be better off not knowing too much about Remi's past.

She was the closest thing Amber had to a friend, but Amber didn't really need friends and never had. She'd never understood how her sisters could spend hours on the phone with their besties, spilling all their secrets.

Amber had never felt judged by the Frenchwoman, unlike the vibe she got from most other women in Bishops Harbor. A painter of fine arts, Remi appreciated Amber's interest in and knowledge of art, and together they made frequent trips to the Met, MoMA, and other New York museums and galleries. Being with Remi had improved Amber's French to the point where she could now proudly scan Le Monde and discuss news stories with Remi fluently. The funny thing was that from the beginning Amber recognized a look in Remi's eyes that said, I see what you are, and I find you interesting. There was something Amber respected in that. And if the relationship between the two women wasn't exactly what Amber would call a friendship, it filled something inside of Amber that she couldn't quite name.

Tonight, Remi wore a simple white sheath that looked as if it had been custom made for her, and her chestnut hair, parted in the middle, was pulled into a loose bun at the nape of her graceful neck. But it was the exquisite necklace around that neck that grabbed Amber's attention. Row after row of delicate gold leaves shimmered against Remi's skin, like foliage tumbling from an aspen tree. Amber loved the striking originality ofit.

"Remi, your necklace is stunning. I've never seen anything like it."

"Isn't it wonderful? A White Orchid design. They have quite marvelous things."

"White Orchid. Who carries the line?" Amber filed away the name in her head.

"No one. One buys directly."

"You're being very mysterious, Remi. Now tell me how I can see their designs."

"You are in luck, my dear. There is a trunk show in New York on the eleventh. Very exclusive invitation list, but if you'd like, you can come with me."

"Oh, yes, I would love that. The eleventh. It's a date." As they parted, Amber smiled to herself, anticipating the event. She would reward herself with a scrumptious little present. After all, she was a multimillionaire now.

Over the next half hour, the outdoors was buzzing with chatter, loud laughter, the clinking of glasses. After she'd made her rounds, Amber stood back, away from the crowd, and watched. She observed these people who would never be real friends to her, the women comparing and appraising one another, their bodies put through rigorous workouts, polished and buffed, never an ounce of fat. It was hard work to stay ahead of the game, but it was worth every hour of sweat at the gym, every skipped meal. Amber, however, would always be more than a pretty, but vacuous, face. An unfortunate incident in Texas had taught her that good looks and cunning were not enough. The key to this world was knowledge, the more the better. Amber never stopped studying, from fine literature and history to financial markets and investing. The subjects were diverse, often difficult, and she dug into each one with purpose and commitment. She would never let herself be taken off guard again.

She took a sip of her sparkling water, her eyes following Jackson who moved from group to group. She had to admit that he looked great, and judging by the looks he was getting, most of the women here agreed with her. If they only knew what a shit he was. Not that it was a problem for her any longer. She smiled, picturing all those lovely little gems that had magically filled her bank account with millions. Except, of course, for the three she'd kept for emergencies.

"Amber!" Bunny's loud voice made Amber turn. She came rushing over, her husband trailing behind her. "You look amazing," Bunny said.

"Thanks. Good to see you both," Amber said.

"That dress. Fabulous," Bunny went on. "Doesn't she look fabulous, March?" Her collagen-infused lips, a bright velvet red, parted in a wide grin.

"Yes indeed. Nice party, Amber," March said.

March was aging, Amber thought, and standing next to his much younger wife made it that much more apparent, the hot pink dress hugging her sculpted body making him look old and frail next to her. She supposed there was something to be said for men who stuck with their original spouses and aged together with them. Poor March looked like his succession of young wives had taken its toll.

"Oh pooh." Bunny held up her glass and looked at March. "I'm all empty. Honey, would you be a dear and get me a little drink?"

The moment he walked away, she took Amber's arm in hers. "I've been wanting to talk to you all day," she said breathlessly.

"What is it?"

"Well, I was at the club yesterday and I ran into Lesley Fielding. I'd just finished a game of tennis and she was playing doubles on the court next to me. She's a good friend of Melinda Monahan's. I was going to head right to the locker room, but then I decided to wait until—"

Amber suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Get to the point, Bunny."

"Right. The Monahans are in Europe for the summer and they're renting out their fabulous house on the Sound. You know the one."

"So what?"

"So, a friend of Meredith's is renting it for the entire summer. It's someone from California. And the way Lesley spoke, it sounded like it's a woman. Without a husband. And with children." Bunny stopped speaking and gave Amber a long look. "I think it's Daphne."

"Daphne? Why on earth would she rent a house in Bishops Harbor?" Amber feigned ignorance.

Bunny shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you should ask Jackson."

Amber simply nodded. She was well aware of Daphne's return to Bishops Harbor. Sweet Daphne was going to be very sorry that she'd decided to come back. But Amber couldn't have cared less about what awaited Daphne. Once Amber helped Jackson execute his plan against Daphne, Amber would be long gone.