The Last Mrs Parrish. Liv ConstantineЧитать онлайн книгу.
She leaned in and whispered, “Cumin.”
Amber hadn’t actually tasted the green goo—she hated avocados—but every woman thinks her own recipes are so special, and it was an easy way to get on someone’s good side.
The room was set up with a breakfast buffet: muffins, fruit, coffee, and tea. Grabbing a mug, Amber filled it to the brim with coffee. She had already reviewed the agenda when Daphne walked into the room, perfectly turned out as usual. Amber rose and gave her a hug. Holding up the piece of paper, she frowned and pointed at the first item. “New cochair needed? What happened to Bunny?”
Daphne sighed and shook her head. “She called me a few days ago and said she had a family emergency to deal with. Something about having to leave town to care for a sick uncle.”
Amber affected a perplexed expression. “That’s a shame. Wasn’t she supposed to have finished organizing the silent auction by today?” It was a huge job, requiring good organizational skills and attention to detail. All of the items had been secured, but Amber was quite sure that Bunny had left plenty of work that still needed to be completed, given that her world had collapsed a week ago.
“Yes, she was. Unfortunately, she just let me know yesterday that she hadn’t finished organizing all of it. Now we’re really behind the eight ball. I feel so bad asking someone to step in and take over. They’ll have to work nonstop to have everything ready in time.”
“I know I’m the newbie here, but I’ve done this sort of thing before. I would love to do it.” Amber looked down at her fingernails, then back up at Daphne. “But the other women probably wouldn’t like it.”
Daphne’s eyebrows shot up. “It doesn’t matter that you’re new. I know you’re here because your heart’s truly in it. But it’s an awful lot of work,” she said. “All the item write-ups still need to be done, the bid forms have to be matched, and the bid numbers need to be set up.”
Amber tried to keep her voice casual. “I managed one for my old boss. The best thing is to have the bid form in triplicate, three different colors, and to leave the bottom copy with the item after the auction closes and take the other two to the cashier. It eliminates confusion.”
She’d hit her mark from her Google research from the night before. Daphne looked duly impressed.
“It would make me feel like I was doing something for Charlene,” Amber continued. “I mean, I don’t have the money to make big donations, but I can offer my time.” She gave Daphne what she hoped was a pitiful look.
“Of course. Absolutely. I would be honored to have you as my cochair.”
“What about the other women? Will they be okay with it? I wouldn’t want to ruffle any feathers.”
“You let me worry about them,” Daphne said and lifted her coffee mug in salute to Amber. “Partners. For Julie and Charlene.”
Amber picked up her mug and touched it to Daphne’s.
A half hour later, after eating Daphne’s food and catching each other up on their scintillating lives, the women all finally got down to the business of the meeting. It must be nice to have all morning to fritter away like this. Once again, Amber’d had to take a vacation day to be there.
Amber held her breath as Daphne cleared her throat and addressed the room. “Unfortunately, Bunny had to resign from the committee. She’s been called out of town to care for an ailing uncle.”
“Oh, what a shame. I hope it’s not too serious,” Meredith said.
“I don’t have any other details,” Daphne said, then paused. “I was going to ask one of you to step in as cochair, but Amber has graciously offered to do it.”
Meredith looked at her, then at Daphne. “Um, that’s very generous, but do you think that’s really wise? No offense intended, but Amber just joined us. It’s a lot to get up to speed on. I’d be happy to do it.”
“The main thing left is to handle the silent auction, and Amber has experience with it,” Daphne replied in a nonchalant tone. “Plus, Amber has a very personal stake; she wants to honor her sister as well. I’m sure she would welcome your help and that of everyone on the committee.”
Amber turned her gaze from Daphne to Meredith. “I would be so appreciative of any advice you’re willing to give. Once I’ve assessed where we are, I can divvy up some assignments.” The thought of having that rich bitch reporting to her made her flush with pleasure. She didn’t miss the look of irritation on Meredith’s face and struggled to hide a smirk.
Meredith cocked an eyebrow. “Of course. We’re all happy to do our part. Bunny had planned on laying out all the items in her house and having a few of us come and help with the bid sheets and descriptions. Should we plan on coming to your house, Amber?”
Before Amber could respond, Daphne dove in to rescue her. “The items are already here. I sent for them yesterday afternoon. No sense in moving them again.”
Amber fixed her eyes on Meredith as she spoke. “I’m planning on automating the forms anyhow. It will be much more efficient for me to e-mail them to each of you with a picture of the item, and you can fill out the descriptions and send them back. Then I can have them printed and set them with the items. I’ll send everyone an e-mail tonight with the groupings, and you can let me know which you’ll write up. No need to waste time all sitting around together.”
“That’s a great idea, Amber. See, ladies? Nice to have some new blood.”
Amber leaned back into her armchair and smiled. She felt Meredith’s appraising eyes on her, and noticed once again how everything about her screamed old money, from her double strand of pearls to the slightly worn camel jacket. Minimal makeup, no particular style to her hair, quiet wristwatch and earrings. Her wedding ring, a band of sapphires and diamonds, looked like a family heirloom. Nothing ostentatious about this woman except the distinct aura of Mayflower lineage and trust funds. Her arrogance reminded Amber of Mrs. Lockwood, the richest woman in the town where she grew up, who would bring her cashmere sweaters, wool suits, and formal gowns into the dry cleaner’s every Monday morning, putting them gingerly on the counter as if she couldn’t bear for her sacred garments to touch the clothes of the underclass. She never greeted Amber and never responded to a hello with anything but a forced, sour smile that looked as if she’d smelled something rotten.
The Lockwood family lived in a huge home at the top of a hill overlooking the town. Amber had met Frances, their only daughter, at a county fair, and the two had become fast friends. The first time Frances took Amber to her home, Amber had been awestruck at its size and magnificent furnishings. Frances’s bedroom was a young girl’s dream, all pink and white and frilly. Her dolls—so many!—were lined up neatly on built-in shelves, and on one long wall stood a case filled with books and trophies. Amber remembered feeling like she never wanted to leave that bedroom. But the friendship had been short-lived. After all, Amber was not the sort Mrs. Lockwood wanted as a friend for her precious daughter. As quickly as the two girls had connected, the cord was severed by Frances’s imperious mother. It had stuck in Amber’s craw ever since, but she’d found a way to get even when she met Matthew, Frances’s handsome older brother. Mrs. Lockwood hadn’t known what hit her.
And now, here she was, confronting the same condescension from Meredith Stanton. So far, though, it was Amber one, Meredith nothing.
“Amber.” Daphne’s voice startled her from her reverie. “I’d like to get a picture for a little advance publicity. Let’s have you and the rest of the auction committee with some of the items. I’m sure the Harbor Times will publish it with a blurb about the fundraiser.”
Amber couldn’t move. A picture? For the newspaper? She couldn’t let that happen. She had to think quickly. “Um.” She paused a moment. “Gee, Daphne, I’m so new to the group. I don’t think it’s fair for me to be in the photo. It should include members who have worked on this longer than I have.”
“That’s