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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 hershoulders 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 wifedied, 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.