Autumn had begun to creep over New England, promising to transform the landscape into the backdrop that Jackson Parrish so loved.
Jackson Parrish was 158 years old… and a vampire.
While stroking her hair, he spoke softly, "My name is Jackson Parrish, and as God is my witness, I will do all in my power to correct this situation."
Turning to face him, she said, "Look, Mr. Parrish," and stopped in mid-sentence as their eyes met.
Maybe there's an 'I hate Jackson Parrish' website out there.
And you Mr. Parrish, have been living with your head in the sand for a hundred-fifty years.
Mr. Parrish, you may have won over my daughter and Samantha with your good looks and schmaltzy charm, but let me assure you, I am not in the least impressed by your God's-gift-to-women bullshit.
I guess the Sidwell women can't resist the Parrish charm.