Several hours after Austen was evicted from her condo, Julia stood over Austen as she expressed little enthusiasm for the pair of gold, open-toe Prada pumps she was trying on.
“Ooh, girl, they look fabulous. Stand up and see how they feel.”
“I don’t like them,” Austen said, undoing the straps.
“What? Those are the ones you wanted. I’m about to spend my grocery money for the month on those things to make you feel better.”
“And now you don’t have to.”
Not even an hour after Austen had called Sissy to tell her about the eviction, three brawny, uniformed men from a moving company showed up to move what little Austen had left down to a moving truck. When they finished, the place no longer contained even a matchbook of hers. Sissy showed up afterward, holding a Chanel shoulder bag. She walked in, pulled her dark glasses from her eyes, pushed them into her hair, and took a look at Austen, appearing generally concerned.
“I’m sorry this is happening, but the movers told me they have all your belongings. You can come with me now.”
“Go with you? Where?”
“Your new home. The Winslow estate.”
“No. I mean, I don’t know,” Austen said. “I’m not ready to—”
“You and my brother are more alike than you know,” Sissy said. “Grab your purse and whatever else and you can tell me just how much you don’t want to live at the estate on the way there.”
“So this Sissy woman is still going to buy your property and make sure it’s placed back in your name, right?” Julia asked, as they walked toward the exit of the shoe store.
“Yeah, she said she will.”
“That’s a good thing. And till then, the house I picked you up from . . . girl, it ain’t like it was Cabrini Green. That mansion had it going on. You know I was dying to see what it looked like inside.”
“It’s the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen,” Austen said glumly. “It has everything, winding staircase, maid’s quarters, chef’s kitchen, and the room they put me in was damn near as big as my entire condo. It has a separate sitting area that is more like a living room. But to be frank, who cares? It’s not mine.”
Stopping in the middle of the mall corridor, Julia grabbed Austen’s hand. “Why are you looking at it that way? I know the situation isn’t ideal, but—”
“But what?” Austen said. “I’m getting married to a wealthy, handsome man. I’m moving into a mansion, where all my needs will be met. Yeah, I know it sounds like a dream, but it comes at a cost.”
“Nothing is free.”
“I know. I just thought when and if I got married, it would be to someone I loved.”
“What?” Julia said, surprised. “I thought you never wanted to give a man control over you.”
“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to fall in love,” Austen said, sadly. “This way that won’t ever happen.”
Julia sighed, set down her shopping bag, and grabbed Austen’s other hand. “Locked up in this contract or not, know that when it’s time for you to fall in love, it’ll happen. Nothing’s going to stop that. Will you at least believe that for me?”
Austen rolled her eyes at her friend’s desperate attempt to cheer her up. “Yeah, Julia. I’ll believe love will still find me while I’m married to my gay husband just for you.”