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She bent over, trying to catch her breath. When she was able to speak again, she glared at him. “If I die, those numbers die with me.”
Jackson was delusional if he thought he’d ever get his hands on her money. He could examine every piece of paper in the house, search her phone, and explore her computer. The numbers existed only in her head. It was during the period when Amber had studied the works of ancient Greek playwrights and philosophers that she’d discovered Simonides, a Greek lyric poet born in 556 BC, who developed a memory technique that has come to be called the Method of Loci or the “Memory Palace,” an effective method of information memorization and retention. You visualize a specific location in a physical space, like a house, and put a piece of information in each room. Then when you need to recall, you “walk” through the house and retrieve the information. She’d used this process often, and now, with the account and box numbers memorized, the “word house” would shield her money from Jackson’s grasping hands.
Jackson gave her a scorching look. “This is not finished. And you’re not going anywhere. I took your passport. And don’t forget, one call to the Missouri police department and your ass will be arrested.”
“You do that, and every lie you told about Daphne and every doctor and judge you paid off will be made public. Not to mention the little video I took that night you attacked me. You’ll be back in prison so fast your head will spin.” She returned his look with a defiant one. “Looks like we’re at a stalemate.”
It was time to change tactics. She softened her voice. “Okay, look. We’re both reasonable people here. I’m sure we can plan to work this out in a way that’s agreeable to both of us.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Let’s split the money and go our separate ways. Think of it as a severance package for me.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “Here’s the deal. You stay and throw me a welcome home party. I need to reestablish my presence here. I’ll let you go but not yet. I’m sick of being married to you anyway. But…you’re going to help me get Daphne back. It’s time for her little idyll in California to come to an end.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Daphne? What the hell are you talking about?”
He smiled. “Sit down. I’ll fill you in.”
– 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 Vand 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 refillwith 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.