Epilogue
Christian
I groaned as Gretchen lightly shook my shoulder. I'd been up late the night before. I'd gotten caught up working on the boat out in the garage, and the next thing I'd known, it had been three in the morning, and I still hadn't gone to bed. Gretchen had to know that I'd gone to bed late, too, since she'd clearly stayed up waiting for me, she'd eventually fallen asleep with a book in her hands.
I'd come back to the room and found her like that, and I hadn't been able to hide a fond smile as I watched her. It seemed like every new day, every new caring gesture that she made, I loved her more, as though that were somehow possible. But she was so wonderful.
“Give me five more minutes,” I mumbled, turning my face into the pillow.
“But then your breakfast is going to get cold,” Gretchen said, and when I cracked an eye open, I saw that she had brought me breakfast in bed.
But of course she had because it was Sunday morning, and she always brought me breakfast in bed on Sunday mornings, just like I always cooked dinner for her on her days off. I always insisted that she didn't have to do that, but she liked doing it, and it wasn't like I was complaining about it.
I pushed myself up into a sitting position, surprised to see how late it already was. “One o'clock already?” I asked, baffled to see that.
“Yeah, you were asleep,” Gretchen said, smiling fondly at me. “I didn't have the heart to wake you up any sooner.”
“I slept well,” I admitted, stretching broadly.
“And how's the boat coming along?” she asked.
“Really well, actually,” I told her. “I think I'll have it ready to sail by the time summer starts.”
“Awesome,” she said. She slipped into bed next to me and pulled her tray over her lap as she cuddled up next to me. “You know, I am still worried that you're just going to sail away and disappear one of these days,” she teased.
“You know I wouldn't do that,” I said easily.
“Hmm,” was all Gretchen said, even though I knew she couldn't possibly think that anymore. She had finally stopped asking me if I regretted moving to Hawaii, and things had been going great between us over the past couple years.
“You're coming to the luau tonight, right?” I asked her, trying to sound nonchalant.
“What luau?” she asked, frowning at me.
I shrugged. “Mark told me about it,” I said. “You didn't hear about it from Mina?”
“No,” Gretchen said frowning. “I've been pretty busy with work lately, what with all the new clients that we've been taking on. I think I need to find another masseuse to take some of the work because Mina and I are pretty much booked solid!”
“I know,” I said. “I've missed seeing you lately.”
“You see me every evening,” Gretchen said, rolling her eyes a little, but she was smiling. “And every day off as well, with the rare exception of the days that Mina and I both take off.”
“I know,” I said. “But it's not enough.”
Gretchen laughed. “What about this luau tonight? What are we even celebrating, anyway?”
“Do you need a reason to celebrate to have a luau?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Well, I guess not,” Gretchen said, giggling a little.
I shrugged again. “I don't know what it's about, I just know Mark told me about it, and he has his finger on the pulse here, so I'm sure there is one. You'll go with me, right?”
“Maybe you and Mark should just have a guy's night,” Gretchen suggested. “I have appointments tomorrow, nothing too early in the day because Mina said she'd take those, but even still.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I've been working a little too much lately, I think. I'm just tired. As fun as a luau sounds, I don't think I can make it.”
I sighed and lightly stroked the back of her neck. “I understand that,” I said. “I know just how hard you've been working, and your clients do as well. But don't you think we could have just one night of fun? I'm not saying that we have to stay out until late or anything like that, but maybe we could just go for an hour or two and then head home? I'm sure there are a lot of people there who'd like to see you and ask how the business is going, and you don't want to leave all the talking to Mina, do you?”
“No,” Gretchen admitted, grimacing a little. She sighed. “Fine, I'll go,” she finally agreed. “But just for an hour or two. And then I want to come straight back here and curl up on the couch with you to watch some shitty TV.”
“That's a deal,” I said, reaching out a hand so that we could shake on it. I grinned slyly at her. “Would you wear that pretty green dress that I love on you?” I asked.
Gretchen laughed. “Sure,” she said, blushing a little.
That night, when we got to the beach, Gretchen looked around in confusion, even more confusion than she'd sported when I insisted on “dressing up” a little, in khaki shorts and a green button-down shirt that matched her dress. Of course, it was nothing like the dressing up that I used to do in New York, but she'd grown pretty accustomed to seeing me in t-shirts by this point. I had to hide a grin.
“No one's here yet,” Gretchen said slowly, looking around. “Are you sure that Mark said there was going to be a luau?”
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging a little. “Maybe everyone's getting a late start since it's a work day. But come on, let's take a little walk down the beach. If we come back and no one's here, then we'll head home and have that TV date that I promised you.”
“Okay,” Gretchen said.
We ambled hand-in-hand down the beach, just on the line where the ocean met the shore. “It's still so beautiful out here,” I sighed as we walked along. “You know, I am so lucky to have met you and to have you in my life.”
Gretchen laughed a little. “I'm lucky too,” she said. “I never thought I was going to end up loving someone like you.”
“You are the sexiest, most beautiful, most talented woman that I know,” I continued. “When you want something, you get it. You constantly keep me on my toes. You have from the first day that I met you. That's what makes dating you so much fun. You've got a real spark to you. And I love that.”
Gretchen giggled. “What, are you trying to make me blush?” she asked.
“You're adorable when you blush,” I told her. “Honestly. I don't know what it is about it, but I love that you still get so shy around me sometimes, as though we haven't been intimately living together for the past couple of years. And I love hearing you giggle. It's cute.”
“Seriously, Christian, what's going on?” Gretchen asked, pulling me around to face her, looking searchingly up into my face.
I smiled gently down at her. “I'm just trying to tell you how much I love you, that's all,” I told her, steering her into walking again. We were almost there.
“You don't have to-”
“Yes, I do,” I interrupted her. “I want to make sure that you know, every single day for the rest of your life, how special you are to me, and how much I love you. I want to wake up with you every morning, and I want to go to bed with you every night. I want to stay with you here in Hawaii, or wherever we end up living. I want to build a home and a life with you.” I turned to face her as I led her into the spot that Mark and I had chosen.
Then, I sank down on one knee, as Mark illuminated the fairy lights all around us, showing the elaborate flower trellises and other decorations that we'd set up.
“Gretchen Means, I would very much like for you to do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
Gretchen stared down at me, her hands up over her mouth. Then, she looked around at the decorations, and then back at me. “Did you…”
“Yes,” I told her. “I had a little help from Mark and Mina, but it was my idea.”
She shook her head and then laughed, reaching a hand down toward me and cupping my cheek. “Yes,” she said, the sound choked with emotion. “Yes, Christian, God, yes. I would be so lucky to be your wife.”
I smiled at her and slipped the ring out of its box, sliding it carefully onto her third finger.
“God, it's gorgeous,” Gretchen said, her fingers tracing the pattern of flowers, dotted with little diamond centers, which swirled around the ring.
“If you don't like it, we can return it and get you something else,” I told her. I hadn't been sure about the design. Something about it spoke to me.
“I love it,” Gretchen told me, reaching down to pull me to my feet. “And I love you too.” She leaned in to kiss me. As we kissed, cheering and clapping broke out around us, and I grinned.
Gretchen whirled toward the sound and blushed brilliantly as she realized that pretty much everyone that she knew was there. They'd been waiting off in the shadows, but they'd seen the whole thing. She turned back to me, laughing. “You did all of this?” she asked.
I nodded and shrugged. “I know how important everyone is to you here,” I told her. “They're your family. It was only right that they be here for this special night.”
“There isn't a luau tonight, is there?” Gretchen asked.
“There will be now,” I said. “But I was the one to organize it. You should also know that Mina has canceled all the appointments at the shop for tomorrow, so you don't have to worry about staying out late. And speaking of Mina-”
Mina threw herself into Gretchen's arms. “I'm so excited for you!” she cried. Then, she pulled away, grabbing Gretchen's hand. “Let me see the ring. Christian wouldn't let me see it before he gave it to you, even though I told him that I'm good at keeping secrets; I kept this whole thing a secret, didn't I? But he wanted you to be the first person to see it, other than him. And wow, that is pretty. It suits you too.”
“Congratulations, man,” Mark said, clapping me on the back as he joined our little group. “Seems like just yesterday I was picking you up at the airport.”
“Oh, come on, don't get all nostalgic already,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Plenty of time for that when we're old.”
“I'm going to file that comment away and make sure I get super nostalgic in my speech at the wedding,” Jeff told me, winking at Mina as he slipped an arm around her waist. “That is if I'm allowed to be part of the wedding.”
I rolled my eyes again. “You're going to be my best man, aren't you?” I asked him. “So, yeah, I think you might have to be there at my wedding.”
“Hey, I thought I was going to be your best man!” Mark said, laughing.
I shook my head. “Sorry man, I've already destroyed my friendship with my brother once; I don't need to do it again.” I grinned.
Gretchen threw her arms around me again, burying her face against my shirt. “You're the best,” she said.
“No, you are,” I told her teasingly. I looked around. “Now, I know you all want to congratulate our beautiful bride-to-be, but let's get this luau started!”
Later that night, it was just Gretchen and me again, walking down the beach. “That was the best night,” she told me quietly, twisting her fingers into mine.
“It was,” I agreed, just as quietly. I paused. “You know, I am glad to be here.”
“I'm glad that you're here too.”
BILLIONAIRE’S CINDERELLA
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams
Chapter One
Kiara
The lawns started getting larger before giving way to large tracts of land divided by impeccable hedges and wrought iron gates. My fingers tightened on the steering wheel as I took the turn towards my childhood home. My tiny attic apartment in Brooklyn seemed like a dream as I drove along the Long Island road. I fought the urge to swing the car into a tight U-turn.
It was easier to pretend in Brooklyn because no one was really looking. Here, everyone took one glance at me and realized I didn't belong. Poor Kiara Davies, the girl who wore her brother's hand-me-down jeans to school. The one whose fancy address was the joke of Long Island. Here, everyone knew the long, unkempt driveway led to nothing but a pine board cottage so old another cobweb could cause its collapse.
My phone rang. "Daniel? I'm so sorry. Did you get my message? I had to leave right away for Long Island."
"Yes, Kiara, I got your message at the last minute. And everything worked out with the reservation." Daniel's cultured voice had an edge.
I accelerated as I rushed to apologize again. "I'm so sorry I had to cancel. It was just such short notice and, ah, our handyman is out of town."
"Luckily, I'm taking the head of marketing out to dinner. Father thinks I'm finally showing some initiative." Daniel paused to let his quick thinking impress me. "Did you call a driver?"
I frowned over the rusted hood of my old pickup truck. "No. I decided to drive myself. It might be nothing."
"Well, your father was right. There was a big storm a few days ago. I hope the house is not too badly damaged."
I bit my lip to stop myself from saying I hoped the whole house had been blown into the Atlantic Ocean. Then, I had to slam on the brakes. The four-way stop by the gas station had come up quicker than I’d thought it would, and one tire squealed as I ground the old pickup to a stop.
"What was that?" Daniel asked, alarmed.
"It was-" I started to say “nothing,” but a car slammed into me from behind. The pickup truck careened sideways through the intersection and crunched into the base of the gas station sign.
The old-fashioned sign creaked as it swung above my head, and I held my breath. Knowing my luck, it would crash down at any second and smash the rest of the junked-out truck.
"Are you okay?" two voices asked at once.
I blinked and realized I had to answer the police officer at my window before I located my phone and answered an irritated Daniel.
The officer was young, his black hair shiny as he poked his head through the broken window to see if I was bleeding. I held up both arms and turned my head to prove I was uninjured, then I pushed the officer back and kicked open the door.
"Here's my insurance and the number for my lawyer. They can sort it all out." The other driver smoothed down his Polo shirt and barely glanced at the warped hood of his sports car. "If you don't mind, my friends there are going to give me a lift. We've got a party to get to."
The police officer scowled, but said nothing. He'd been coached to ignore the behavior of the neighbors unless they were blatantly breaking the law. All the complaints and lawyers were too big of a hassle for their small department, and he was constantly reminded his number-one job was to keep the peace. It might have bothered him that letting the rich kid walk away from the scene of an accident was considered “keeping the peace,” but he said nothing as the carload of party-goers sped away.
I turned to survey my pickup truck and blinked back hot, stinging tears. The back bumper was crumpled and hanging down to the asphalt. The bed of the truck was bowed, and the left wheel well was smashed in far enough that it pressed into the tire.
"Don't worry," the police officer said, "I'll call you a cab."
"No, no. It's fine," I said.
"I can't let you drive that vehicle, miss. I've got a cab driver that can be here in ten minutes."
I heard the familiar hum of another sports car flying towards the gas station intersection. "No, thanks."
How could I tell the police officer that one cab ride, even just a few miles down the road, would wipe out my entire bank account? That didn't fit the profile of the neighborhood. My only hope was to catch a ride with the next bunch of party-goers. I moved around the wreck of my pickup truck and ran my fingers through my long, loose hair.
I had a smile all ready, but when the electric-blue Tesla came into sight, my expression went blank.
Teddy Brickman leaned over a sequined-spangled supermodel and called out the window, "Everything all right here? Need a lift?"
"No. Thanks. He's calling me a cab." I struggled to talk around the lump in my throat.
His blue eyes were as bright as the blinding paint job on his car. "You sure?"
"Cab's already on its way." The young police officer came to stand next to me. The two men sized each other up, despite residing on entirely different planets.
"All right then. Nice to see you around again." Teddy hit the accelerator and tore through the intersection, leaving nothing behind but the wispy giggles of his supermodel companion.
"You know Mr. Brickman?" the police officer asked before he caught himself.
"Once upon a time," I muttered. I was too busy doing the calculations in my head to think about Teddy Brickman and his far-reaching reputation. What did it matter that I grew up side-by-side with one of the richest playboys on the Eastern Seaboard if I couldn't even tip a cab-driver without overdrawing my bank account?
"I'm sorry about your truck, miss."
"Kiara Davies," I said as I tried the math again.
"Did you want me to tow the truck any place special, Ms. Davies?" The young officer hovered nearby as I wrenched open the truck door and dug around for my purse and phone.
Daniel had hung up long ago, and I wondered if he would call back. All he really knew about me was my address. I was sure once Daniel Finley, Harvard grad and sole heir to his father's textiles empire, found out I was dirt poor, he wouldn't ever call again.
"She can leave the truck here." Two men from the gas station ambled over to access my truck.
I smiled and raced to give old Jim a hug. "I don't think it's worth saving this time."
"I'm not having your father come back from Afghanistan to find we scrapped his favorite truck." He nudged his son. "Stop staring."
Jim Jr. cleared his throat, but could not take his eyes off me. "Nice to see you again."
"You live around here?" The young officer jockeyed to get back in my sight lines. "I would give you a lift, but we're not allowed."
"I'm just here for the night," I said, hoping it would turn out to be true.
Then the cab pulled up, and my heart sank. After I paid for the cab ride, I would have to wait for my paycheck to clear before I could afford to get back to Brooklyn. How was I going to explain that to my bosses?
"I'll give you a ride," Jim Jr. said.
"No. You're already doing me a huge favor by taking this hunk of junk in. I'll be fine." I smiled at the men and slipped into the back of the cab.
"I could have helped," Jim Jr. muttered as the cab pulled away with me inside.
Old Jim laughed. "If she said she'll be fine, then she'll be fine. She's a Davies, son—probably the toughest one of the whole bunch."
I almost believed that until the cab-driver bumped along the overgrown driveway and finally caught sight of the homely, little cottage.
"This is it?" he asked. "Crazy. I mean, your neighbors have cars bigger than this place."
"Thanks." I got out of the cab and considered lowering the driver's tip.
"You could sell this place and make a fortune."
I sighed and gave the driver everything I had left. "My family doesn't take easy outs."
It was true. After my great-grandfather squandered the family fortune down to nothing but a plot of land on Long Island, the Davies had gone a different way. My grandfather built the cottage and then enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. He ensured future generations would have a respectable address and a name to be proud of.
I was certain my grandfather intended his offspring to use the opportunities he gave them, but they felt the need to follow in his footsteps. Both my father and brother were Marines. If my mother hadn't wrung a promise out of all of us before she succumbed to cancer, I would have enlisted, as well.
Instead, I was alone, facing the tiny scrap of a cottage by myself.
My phone rang. "Daniel?"
"What was all of that? Are you all right? I had to step away from the table to call you back. Did I tell you the head of marketing is here with me?"
"I'm sorry. It was just a fender-bender."
"Well, you should have said something." Daniel gave an exasperated sigh. "Did you at least make it home?"
I started towards the cottage. "Yes. I'm just going to assess the storm damage and head back as soon as… Oh, I should have known!"
"Kiara, for goodness sake, don't yell into the phone. I'm in the lobby of Raffey's. What are people going to think?"
"I'm sorry, Daniel. It's just there isn't any storm damage, at all." I strode around the outside of the cottage as the anger built up inside me. "It looks like my stepsisters were here and threw a huge party."
"Is that all?" Daniel sniffed. "How about you tell me all about it when you get back?"
"Sure. I mean, yes. Go back to your dinner. And, thanks for calling." I hung up the phone and kicked a red, plastic cup across the lawn.
Two beer kegs stood abandoned at the foot of the back porch steps. An avalanche of furniture spread out across the lawn down towards the ocean views. My step-sisters had hauled everything outside to make a dance floor in the tiny living room. Two dining room chairs held up a closet door that supported a wide array of liquors. I marched past the makeshift bar and peered inside a splattered window.
Someone had sprayed sticky champagne all over the windows and left the bottle balanced precariously on a bookshelf. More books had been hauled from the shelf and arranged on the scuffed dining room table to form some sort of drinking game. Spills, empty cups, and wadded-up balls of paper littered the whole room.
I turned and walked blindly away from the mess. My stepsisters, fueled by a very small trust fund their mother gave them, did nothing but leave messes for me to clean up. My father's second marriage had only lasted until his next tour, but it was long enough to leave us saddled with the wild twins. Their mother was away in Europe, charming men who lived in palaces. While that abandonment forged a kinship between us stepsisters, it wasn't enough to tame the younger girls.
Cursing my stepsisters without really being able to blame them, I bumped into the split-rail fence at the edge of the property. From there, the long, tangled grass gave way to the smooth, manicured lawns of the Brickman Estate. In a moment of weakness, I let my eyes travel up to the castle-like silhouette of my neighbor's palatial home.
"I should just ask Teddy for the money and get out of here," I muttered, but I was already shaking my head.
Far away across the sweeping lawns, a figure on the wide portico waved at me. I turned my back on him and sighed. There was only one thing I could do, and it wasn't beg charity from a obscenely rich neighbor.
Instead, I rolled up my sleeves and marched back to the cottage, picking up bits of the party-wreckage along the way.
My back was aching from hauling the furniture back inside, but everything was finally back in order. All the garbage was bagged up. The windows were scrubbed inside and out. The countertops were polished, and the kitchen was gleaming. I rubbed my neck, but surveyed the transformation with a small glow of pride.
It didn't matter that my errant step-sisters were refusing to answer my calls. The damage was repaired, and everything was back to normal.
Except my life.
I didn't even know where to start with cleaning up my life. My grand plan of law school and a respectable career kept getting sideswiped by the twins. My law internship was already in serious jeopardy because of all the days off I had been forced to take, and now this weekend was going to have to be extended.
My stomach clenched from the stress, but also let out of a growl of hunger. At least that was one thing I could fix. I headed down the back porch steps and into the garden.
When my mother was ill, I planted the garden all on my own. The doctors had recommended a fresh and healthy diet to help her fight the cancer, despite her lack of interest in food. Though I had only been ten years old, I had learned to cook well enough to entice her even on her worst days.
"Bet a little fresh salmon would go well with that salad," a creaky old voice called.
Donna Martin, the ancient head chef from the other neighboring estate, shuffled through the gate in the split-rail fence. The gate was always open, and I smiled as she handed me a basket full of choice fillets.
"I saw your lights on." She was retired now and living in a cozy suite of rooms in the wing of the house that overlooked our property.
"You called my father about the party," I said. My father had lied to me about the storm damage because our conversation had to be quick and to the point. We had lost the overseas connection too many times to have real talks.
"I should have just called the police," Donna said with a shake of her white, fluffy hair.
"What you should do is come in for dinner." I helped her up the porch steps and then pulled the older woman into a tight hug. "I'm glad to see you."
"Oh, Kiara. I'm glad you're home." Donna blinked back tears and bustled into the cottage's tight kitchen. “Tell me all about law school."
Her shrewd smile meant she wouldn't believe me, but I told her, anyway. "I love it. My internship is really interesting."
"Interesting? People say Boy Brickman's new car is interesting because he gets a new one every week," Donna told me as she heated olive oil in a pan.
I laughed. She always called Teddy “Boy” and would until he proved himself to be a man by Donna's high standards.
"Law school is a lot of memorizing and a lot of paperwork," I admitted.
"So when are you going to follow your real passion?" she asked as she showed me how to fry up the fresh sage along with the salmon.
"Follow my real passion? That sounds like something only the idle rich can do."
"They wouldn't know how. All that money just gets in the way." Donna left the pan to sizzle as she turned to me. "You're allowed to be happy, Kiara."
I stood up straighter. "I am happy. I'm studying for the bar. I have an affordable apartment in Brooklyn. And, I met a very nice young man. He's a Harvard grad."
Donna's eyes sharpened. "So are about half of them. Doesn't mean they're good enough for you."
I glanced out the window where Donna had nodded. The Brickman Estate was buzzing with sports cars, and every light in the forty-eight room mansion was blazing. The thumps and bass line of the loud party music drifted in and out of my cottage with the breeze.
I changed the subject back to food, and we spent our dinner ignoring the ever-increasing sounds of the party. Finally, Donna strained to her feet and shuffled down the back porch steps. Just as she reached the gate and gave me one final wave, my phone rang.
"Mr. Jason," I gasped. "Did you try to call me earlier? I'm so sorry. Are you still at the office? I finished my report on the Curtis deposition."
"No, Kiara. I thought it best to have this conversation after I'd left the office. I didn't want us to get interrupted."
I gripped the railing of the back porch. "Is everything all right?"
"Your work has been passable, Kiara, and we appreciate it. The real problem is, how should I say it? Your lack of passion for the law."
"Passion?" I asked with a hysterical edge to my voice. "I thought practicing law was more about professionalism than passion."
"True, yes. Your recent absences have created a less than professional reputation, but it is more your lack of passion that makes you the wrong fit for our firm." Mr. Jason's voice was steady.
"The wrong fit? Are you firing me?" I asked before the breath was squeezed out of my lungs by panic.
"We'll pay you through the end of the month to give you time to find a better fit. Good luck, Ms. Davies."
The phone line went dead. A wave of relief washed over me, but I quickly shook it off. Not only was I broke, but now I had no job. I couldn't even turn back to the cottage because the thought of disappointing…no one.
My eyes dried instantly, and I turned to face the empty cottage. I didn't even have anyone to disappoint. I was all alone.
The thought hung over me like a heavy cloud as I cleaned up the kitchen and did the calculations in my head. I would be stuck on Long Island for at least another 48 hours while my paycheck cleared. Then, I could afford a ride-share back to Brooklyn.
My chest squeezed again. My tiny apartment was affordable, but it was still at Brooklyn prices. If I didn't find another job right away, I would have to sublet the only place that felt like home.
"Where am I going to find a job?" I groaned over the sink.
The only other job I had ever had was in my college cafeteria. I wasn't qualified for anything else. Within two weeks, my whole life would unravel.
My only comfort was that the old Davies cottage was still standing. I looked around the tiny, two-bedroom shack and sighed. It was nice that no matter what happened, I would always have the cottage with its unkempt driveway, wide, wild gardens, and views of the Atlantic. Despite the tight dimensions, the cottage was cozy and comforting. It had kept me warm and safe on many lonely nights.
"Tanya? Sorry, the phone scared me," I said as I picked up my ringing phone.
"I just got to the library. You're coming to study tonight, right?" Tanya asked.
I pressed a shaking hand to my forehead. The music and laughter from the party seemed to be drifting closer, and I couldn't concentrate. "No. I'm sorry. I had to go home."
"Really?" Tanya asked, and I could hear her smile, "because it sounds an awful lot like you're at some party. Can I come?"
I laughed. "I wish. I'm out on Long Island at my father's place, and the neighbor is having another one of his wild soirees."
Tanya gasped. "Oh my God, that's right. Your neighbor out there is Teddy Brickman, right? You should go over there and have a little fun for both of us!"
"I don't feel like celebrating tonight," I said. "Tanya, actually, I've got to tell you something."
She sighed. "I heard about your internship. Does that mean you're not taking the bar?"
"I don't know what it means. Everything is all screwed up." I balled my hand into a fist and refused to let my voice tremble. "Remember that roommate of yours whose boyfriend was looking for an apartment? Think he'd be interested in my little Brooklyn attic?"
"No. No way. I'm not letting you give up your apartment." Tanya was firm. "So you got fired from your internship. Go over to your neighbor's party, cheer yourself up, then call and tell me all the details. We'll come up with a plan for you tomorrow."
I grinned. "Thanks, Tanya, but I think I'll skip the party and concentrate on a new plan."
She heaved a heavy sigh. "You know, it's all right to let go every once in a while."
"Says the girl that's at the library," I joked.
"That's exactly why you're supposed to go out and party for the both of us!"
"Sorry," I said. "I don't really move in the same circles as my neighbor, so I'm going to skip the party. But I will call you tomorrow."
I hung up the phone feeling marginally better. Maybe I wasn't as alone as I felt.
Then, I glanced out the window and saw a crowd weaving its way across the sweeping lawns to the clearing near the edge of my property. Flickering orange light reflected off silk sundresses and expensive jewelry as Teddy directed his friends to make the bonfire bigger.
"My father claims in his day they had bonfires so big the flames reached the top of the pine trees," I heard Teddy call out.
"The trees were shorter then," I muttered to myself as I slammed the kitchen window shut.
There wasn't going to be much of a chance for quiet contemplation or planning with the raucous crowd starting to dance around the growing bonfire.
The Brickman staff were hurrying across the lawns with folding tables and white linen tablecloths. Within minutes, there was a five-star buffet and a full bar set up. A sleek, brand-new pickup truck arrived with a sound system and large speakers.
Dishes rattled in the cupboards as the music started.
"Twenty acres of prime seashore property, plus forty-eight rooms, and he has to have his party right on my property line," I grumbled as I headed to my loft bedroom.
There was no doubt in my mind that Teddy was doing it on purpose, though I couldn’t spot him in the crowd outside.
Half my childhood had been spent watching him play with his newest and best toys within sight of my window. He didn't seem content with anything until he had made sure I noticed it, but tonight, I refused to give him a second glance.
Teddy Brickman might be a billionaire, but he hadn't earned a cent of it—and he had certainly never earned my respect. I swished my heavy curtains closed and curled up in bed, determined to ignore the party. Nothing could keep the heavy beats of the music out of my cottage, but it was the firelight that kept me awake. I watched it dance across the walls of the peaked loft ceiling and wondered what would happen if my entire life had just gone up in flames.
Would anyone care?
Sure, my father would call and check in, but I would still be all alone.
"A Davies never turns away from trouble," my father would tell me.
With his motto ringing in my ears, I threw back the covers and marched to my closet. The only thing suitable for confronting Teddy Brickman was an old, secondhand dress. I slipped the black cocktail dress on and viewed myself in the mirror. It wouldn’t fool any of his fashionable guests for long, but it would get me into the party. Just in case, I shoved my phone and thin wallet into an old clutch purse, then I squeezed my toes into a pair of high heels and headed to the mansion next door.