Love Shack (Tiny Houses, Big Hearts) (22 page)

The charity recognition gala was always televised. Felicity felt a little bad when she didn’t tell Debbie what she was going to do, but the woman wouldn’t have let it go. She would have tried for an interview. She would have walked up to her and said something like…

“Please tell me I have had a stroke, and I am having some tripped out nightmare from all the morphine they are pumping into my brain.”

Something like that, exactly.

Felicity turned slowly. Mostly because she hadn’t worn heels this high in a long time and she didn’t want to catch the beading in her tiny heel points, but also because she didn’t want that voice to belong to the woman she was just thinking about.

Deborah stood on the steps behind the velvet ropes. Her cameraman had the lens to his eye, but his mouth was hanging open. The little red light was blinking.

“I might not have recognized you before, but I damn sure know my fashion, and that Versace dress is infamous. You lied to me about your name.”

Felicity gripped her beaded clutch tight. She was starting to shake and she couldn’t risk dropping what was inside.

“I legally changed my name. I
am
Felicity Newhouse.”

“No. In that dress, at this event, you are Felicity Newowski, and I am pissed beyond words that I didn’t see it sooner. I am also pissed that my exclusive story is going to take a backseat to whatever you are about to do.”

Felicity nodded. She knew this was going to take over all the entertainment shows, and unfortunately even the news shows would probably mention it, because that was just what happened when someone did what she was about to do at a charity function.

Deborah ducked under the rope, used an impressive spin move to skirt the closest security guard, and stood face to face with Felicity. “Don’t look at me like you’re looking at me. I know what this place is, and I know that this isn’t you, but you’ve got a responsibility to people who fell in love with and believed in the Newhouse build. If you are going in there to reenter high society and leave all those people hanging…you really aren’t who I thought you were. I hate being wrong, but I believed in you too. You’re not…” She waved around her as the cameras flashed. “You’re not this.”

Felicity smiled. “No I’m not. But I used to be, and instead of hiding it, I just need to move past it. There’s something I need to do. I promise, if you’re still interested in hearing me out—as a friend only—then I’ll explain. But I’m done with the cameras after our last interview.”

Deborah just ducked under the rope again and turned her back on Felicity. As she continued her walk, Deborah’s voice carried.

“We just saw a glimpse of the elusive Felicity Newowski. She has been absent from these proceedings for the last two years. It’s great to see her back in the limelight where she belongs.”

Felicity cringed at Deborah’s tone, but she knew coming back here there would be a price she’d have to pay. She wanted to pay it and be done. She wanted to keep anyone else from walking out of her life because she was keeping secrets. She’d never wanted to hide—she just didn’t want to have to be someone who had to change who she was to be in the spotlight.

The doorman was another non-descript man with a lot of muscles and shortly cropped hair. His suit had to be custom-made to fit around his shoulders. There was no way that arm would fit so well off the rack.

He touched his earpiece as Felicity took the last step onto the covered porch. Then he nodded to someone behind him.

“Miss Newowski. You weren’t expected, but our team is informed of your presence. We will make sure to add you to our detail.”

He meant they would all be watching. She looked back down the stairs, a part of her longing to flee. Instead of a path to freedom, every camera flashed and reflected light in her face. She tried to smile like she was supposed to, but it was too much of an effort to get the corners of her mouth above a straight line. Instead she turned and entered the hall as her arrival was announced.

“Miss Felicity Newowski.”

The whole room turned toward her. Before she’d fled this life, the people in the ballroom would have smiled and applauded, instead they all just stared. Some gasped, some whispered, but it was her parents who stole the show.

Felicity watched her mother’s eyes widen. There were no wrinkles or pinches between her eyebrows. That was what botox was for. Even with numbed facial muscles it was obvious their surprise was not the happy and welcoming kind.

Felicity nodded to some people who greeted her on her way to her family. There wasn’t anything she could do about the audience. She’d chosen the venue specifically
because
of the audience. She knew her parents wouldn’t cause a scene at an event, and there was part of her that didn’t mind using the spotlight to remind this crowd that she could put on a dress and pretend like everyone else.

Felicity tried to calm her racing pulse, but she didn’t have time to meditate, and this dress wasn’t made for yoga.

So she rode the adrenaline wave all the way up to her parents. “Mother, Father.”

“Felicity,” her mother leaned in and they both did her mother’s favorite air kiss. It was meant to not mess up any hair or makeup. “Our contact informed us that you were not up for returning to society. We didn’t expect you tonight. You should have let us know you were coming. We could have drawn more of a crowd.”

Felicity took a deep breath. “I just came because I took care of something that had been weighing on me for a long time now.” She pulled the cashier’s check from her clutch.

Her father tried to wave her hand away. “You don’t have to donate to the charity fund. And if you insist, you know you’re to contact our accountant.”

Felicity grabbed his hand and slapped the check on his palm. “This isn’t a donation. It’s the entire balance of my trust fund.”

Her father grabbed the check and looked at the number in the box. “Did you not use any of it?”

“Not a dime. I don’t want your money.”

“Then why on earth did you come here?” her mother asked.

Felicity wasn’t sure she wanted to do what she was about to do. She’d spent the last two years avoiding scenes just like this one, but with many of the reporters worming their way inside, she couldn’t resist coming clean.

Felicity ignored her mother and father’s protests and worked her way up to the stage where the live band was playing generic music meant to fade into the background. The acrylic podium was a favorite of her mother’s. It was where they would do their end of party announcements. It had to be clear, because her mother couldn’t have a stand obscuring the dress she wore.

Felicity wanted people to see her dress too. It was the one everyone had been talking about, and even if they didn’t recognize her, they would recognize the dress. A security guard rushed to the small steps to help Felicity up them in case she would trip and fall.

Her heart was in her throat when she flipped on the microphone.

The band stopped. The room quieted, and Felicity hoped her shaking knees weren’t too visible. “Hello, everyone. I’m sure some of you know who I am, and I wanted to make an announcement. I have started a charity of my own, and wanted to let you all know about something called Tiny Houses, Big Hearts. There are many people who could live for an entire year off what you are spending on this party. This dress…” She looked down at the sequins. The spotlights lit her up and she shone brighter than she ever had. “I’m ashamed at how much this cost me. So I wanted to announce I am returning all the money given to me by my parents. If they want to invest in my charity, the money will go towards building homes for those who don’t have them. If they’d rather their money go towards spectacles like this…that’s their choice. It’s their money.”

She took a breath. “I’ve decided this life is not for me, and I’ll be doing no more interviews or shows or endorsement deals. I’ve found a beauty in living simply, and I realized keeping this part of my life hidden would only come back to bite me in the ass.”

There were a few gasps at her vulgar words. She resisted lighting up the room with some more sentence enhancers, but only just. “So I’m letting you know that I’ve officially changed my name to Felicity Newhouse, and I’ll no longer be part of the Newowski Empire. If you have any questions about my new charity, please contact Deborah at Channel 13 news. If you want to talk about me…I’m otherwise occupied. Thank you.”

The jitters she felt started to rise up from her knees, and soon her whole body was a live wire. Felicity walked back to her parents. “If you call me about another television pitch, I’m going to hang up. If you want to ask how my day went, I’ll return the favor.”

“So you’re saying our money isn’t good enough for you?” Her father had redness climbing out of his perfectly pressed white button down shirt.

“I’m saying I’d like to be good enough for you without money. I found something that makes me happy and a purpose that I’m driven by. I thought I could live under an assumed identity and hide, but I don’t want to hide.”

“I think you’ve disrupted our event enough for the night,” her mother told her. “Do you need our service to take you home?”

Felicity shook her head. Part of her had hoped she could find a way to connect with her parents, but she couldn’t even remember a hug her mother had given her that wasn’t in front of a camera. “I’m good,
Mom
. I told the limo driver to wait for me.”

And with that, Felicity left. She walked out the door. She walked away from the family that had always made her feel like a burden or an advertising tool, and she pulled off her heels before she even got to the steps.

The flashes exploded around her and she ran. She ran down the red carpet and toward the limo. She was nearly blind by the time she told the driver to put up the partition.

She stripped out of the dress and threw on a tank top and a pair of yoga pants. Trading flip flops for heels was always a wonderful feeling, but it was especially satisfying after stilettos. Felicity wadded up the Versace dress and pushed it to the bottom of the mesh bag she’d gotten from the dollar store. Then she threw the Jimmy Choo shoes on top.

The donation bin was on her way home. The big yellow metal container was like a beacon and she made the driver stop.

She stood there, with the bag in her hands for a full minute. The light from the gas station next to the bin was in the background, and it glinted off an exposed sequin. There was a part of Felicity that knew she could use a dress like this and walk back into the life her parents led. She could put this on and go to a red carpet event where she’d need a makeup artist and hair stylist to match what she wore on her body.

It had always been her safety net. If she needed to go back, she had the money, and she had the dress, and she could go back into a world where all the smiles were fake and all the diamonds were real. But it wasn’t her. It never had been. She could do like her parents and make appearances and have networks script “reality” television shows for her.

Or…she could find a real human connection.

She threw the dress in the donation bin. The bag clanged against the drop chute and clinked against the side all the way down. After rescuing her hemp wallet and cell phone from the tiny clutch, she launched the purse down the same chute.

She’d just given up her safety net. And she’d never felt more free.

Chapter Thirty-Four

He’d slept in late. Felicity hadn’t slept in. She was up before her alarm every morning, and Brandon had been happy to rise with her. Now he felt like crap. He stumbled through the huge apartment and frowned at his coffee maker. Even with the same beans as Felicity used, his coffee didn’t taste as good as hers did. He gulped it down anyway.

Brandon rubbed his eyes again before he smoothed out the morning paper on his dining table. Sure it was already afternoon, but the paper had been sitting on his doorstep since the morning, so it still counted.

The image on the front page of the society section stopped him. This couldn’t be the same woman, but sure enough there was an exclusive quote from the notorious Debbie Diggs about her relationship with the infamous Felicity Newowski.

Felicity had attended her parents’ charity ball. When he flipped to page three to read the rest of the article, a very familiar logo was on a piece of paper in her and her father’s hands. It was a cashier’s check from Central Bank, one of his biggest competitors. He always was thrilled to see a new account come in with one of those.

He didn’t read the article. He didn’t need to. Felicity had told him the best part of a tiny house was being able to pick up and leave. Surely she wouldn’t just jump ship from her pet project and run back to mommy and daddy Newowski. But when he saw the spread of pictures he spotted Felicity, heels in hand, like she had partied the night away after donating to her own parents’ charity. He crumpled up the paper and threw it in the trash.

It took a bit of digging, but Brandon found an old baseball cap he’d worn in college. He didn’t have time to do his hair. He had to know for sure if he had been wrong about her.

* * * * *

There was a large rectangle of dead grass where her trailer used to be. Brandon went up and stood in the middle of it. He looked around. There wasn’t much to the tiny space. His apartment could fit a dozen of these things. Small, but it stood as a significant spot for him now. So much had changed for him inside this space.