The Last Mrs Parrish. Liv ConstantineЧитать онлайн книгу.
on.” Daphne led her into the sunroom, where there was already a bottle of wine open and two half-filled glasses on the coffee table.
“Have you had dinner?”
Amber shook her head. “No, but I’m not really hungry.” She sat, picked up a wineglass, and took a small sip. “This is very nice.”
Daphne sat down, picked up her own glass, and held it up.
“Here’s to our sisters who live on in our hearts.”
Amber touched her glass to Daphne’s and took another swallow. She brushed a nonexistent tear from her eye.
“I’m so sorry. You must think I’m a basket case.”
Daphne shook her head. “Of course not. It’s okay. You can talk about it to me. Tell me about her.”
Amber paused. “Charlene was my best friend. We shared a room, and we’d talk late into the night about what we were going to do when we grew up and got out of that house.” She frowned and took another long sip of her wine. “Our mother used to throw a shoe at the door if she thought we were up too late. We’d whisper so she wouldn’t hear us. We’d tell each other everything. All our dreams, our hopes …”
Daphne kept quiet while Amber continued, but her beautiful blue eyes filled with compassion.
“She was golden. Everybody loved her, but it didn’t go to her head, you know? Some kids, they would have become bratty, but not Char. She was beautiful, on the inside and out. People would just stare at her when we were out, that’s how gorgeous she was.” Amber hesitated and cocked her head. “Sort of like you.”
A nervous laugh escaped from Daphne’s lips. “I would hardly say that about myself.”
Yeah, right, Amber thought. “Beautiful women take it for granted. They can’t see what everyone else does. My parents used to joke that she got the beauty, and I got the brains.”
“How cruel. That’s terrible, Amber. You are a beautiful person—inside and out.”
It was almost too easy, Amber thought—get a bad haircut, leave off the makeup, don a pair of eyeglasses, slouch your shoulders, and voilà! Poor homely girl was born. Daphne needed to save someone, and Amber was happy to oblige. She smiled at Daphne.
“You’re just saying that. It’s okay. Not everyone has to be beautiful.” She picked up a photo of Tallulah and Bella, this one in a cloth frame. “Your daughters are gorgeous too.”
Daphne’s face lit up. “They’re great kids. I’m extremely blessed.”
Amber continued to study the photograph. Tallulah looked like a little adult with her serious expression and hideous glasses, while Bella, with her blond curls and blue eyes, looked like a little princess. There was going to be a lot of rivalry in their future, Amber thought. She wondered how many boyfriends Bella would steal from her plain older sister when they were teenagers.
“Do you have a picture of Julie?”
“Of course.” Daphne got up and retrieved a photograph from the console table. “Here she is,” she said, handing the frame to Amber.
Amber stared at the young woman, who must have been around fifteen when the picture was taken. She was beautiful in an almost otherworldly way, her big brown eyes bright and shining.
“She’s lovely,” Amber said, looking up at Daphne. “It doesn’t get any easier, does it?”
“No, not really. Some days it’s even harder.”
They finished the bottle of wine and opened another while Amber listened to more stories of Daphne’s tragic fairy-tale relationship with her perfect dead sister. Amber threw a full glass down the sink when she went to the bathroom. As she returned to the living room, she added a little wobble to her walk, and said to Daphne, “I should get going.”
Daphne shook her head. “You shouldn’t drive. You should stay here tonight.”
“No, no. I don’t want to put you out.”
“No arguments. Come on. I’ll take you to a guest room.”
Daphne put an arm around Amber’s waist and led her through the obscenely large house and up the long staircase to the second floor.
“I think I’m going to need the bathroom.” Amber made the words sound urgent.
“Of course.” Daphne helped her in, and Amber shut the door and sat down on the toilet. The bathroom was enormous and elaborate, with a Jacuzzi tub and shower big enough to accommodate the entire royal family. Her studio apartment would have practically fit inside it. When she opened the door, Daphne was waiting.
“Are you feeling any better?” Daphne’s voice was filled with concern.
“Still a bit dizzy. Would it be all right if I did lie down for a minute?”
“Of course,” Daphne said, guiding her down the long hallway to a guest room.
Amber’s keen eye took it all in—the fresh white tulips that looked beautiful against the mint-green walls. Who had fresh flowers in a guest room when they weren’t even expecting guests? The shiny wood floor was partially covered with a thick white flokati rug that added another touch of elegance and luxury. Billowy gauze curtains seemed to float down from the tall windows.
Daphne helped her to the bed, where Amber sat and ran her hand over the embroidered duvet cover. She could get used to this. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she didn’t need to pretend that she felt the dizzying sensation of impending slumber. She saw movement and opened her eyes to see Daphne standing over her.
“You’re going to sleep here. I insist,” Daphne said, and, walking to the closet, opened the door and took out a nightgown and robe. “Here, take your things off and put on this nightgown. I’ll wait out in the hallway while you change.”
Amber peeled off her sweater and threw it on the bed, and stepped out of her jeans. She slipped into the silky white nightgown and crawled under the covers. “All set,” she called out.
Daphne came back in and put a hand on her forehead. “You poor dear. Rest.”
Amber felt a cover being tucked around her.
“I’ll be in my room, just down the hall.”
Amber opened her eyes and reached out to grab Daphne’s arm. “Please don’t go. Can you stay with me like my sister used to?”
She saw the briefest hesitation in Daphne’s eyes before she went over to the other side of the bed and lay next to Amber.
“Sure, sweetie. I’ll stay until you fall asleep. Just rest. I’m right here if you need anything.”
Amber smiled. All she needed from Daphne was everything.
Amber flipped through the pages of Vogue as she sat listening to the whiny client on the other end of the phone continuing to bitch about the $5 million house that had been sold out from under her. She hated Mondays, the day she was asked to sit in for the receptionist at lunchtime. Her boss had promised her she’d be free of it as soon as the new hire began in another month.
She’d started as a secretary in the residential division of Rollins Realty when she first moved to Bishops Harbor, and she’d hated every minute of it. Almost all of the clients were spoiled women and arrogant men, all with a hugely elevated sense of entitlement. The kind of people who never slowed their expensive cars at a four-way stop because they believed they always had the right-of-way. She’d set appointments, call them with updates, set up appraisal and inspection appointments, and still they barely acknowledged her. She did notice that they were only a little more courteous to the agents, but their lack of manners still infuriated her.
She