Redeeming Lottie Read online

  Redeeming Lottie

  A Novel

  Melissa Ellen

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Melissa Ellen

  Cover Copyright © 2017 by Melissa Ellen

  Cover Background Copyright © 2017 by istockphoto/yuriyzhuravov

  Cover Background Copyright © 2017 by istockphoto/grinvalds

  Editor Emily A. Lawrence at Lawrence Editing

  www.lawrenceediting.com

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author's rights.

  First Edition: February 2018

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Also by Melissa Ellen

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  “Marry me, Lottie.”

  Those were the words most women dreamed of hearing from the man they’d been dating for the last year. Most women would be hanging on every sappy, thought-out word of the proposal with teary eyes and a smile that reached their ears. Not me. Not this woman. Those words caused a heavy pulse to pound loudly in my ears and air to get trapped by the heavy weight on my chest. But not for the same reasons it would for most women. Pure panic. That was all I felt.

  I could barely hear David as he pledged his undying love for me. As I looked across the table and down at the ring he held in a little, black box, all I could do was think about how I was about to knock him off his emotional high, how I was about to break his heart and tell him no.

  Don’t get me wrong. David was great. Do I love him? Have I ever actually reciprocated his ‘I love you’ when he said it?

  Love was a pretty strong word. I guess I loved him—or more accurately strongly cared for him. I wasn’t in love with him, though…now the ring. The ring I could fall in love with. How many carats is that thing? It almost had me second-guessing whether I should say yes. I wonder if he’d let me keep it, anyway? No that would be a bitch thing to ask, even for me.

  My stomach rolled as I dragged my sweaty palms down my dress pants, dreading the moment he’d stop talking. That exact moment was when he’d look at me, hopeful and expectant. It was when I’d have to tell him we wanted different things in life, and it would never work.

  I was not ready for that moment. I was not prepared for that moment at all. At least, not tonight.

  No. Definitely not tonight. Tonight was supposed to be in honor of my impending thirtieth birthday. I was headed to Milan in the morning for a work trip. David insisted on us going to dinner tonight to celebrate early. He’d been anxious to celebrate the big three-o with me. I guess it all made sense now. The ring had obviously been burning a hole in his pocket. Or maybe he took me for one of those women who dreaded their thirties. Dreaded being unwed and unengaged at thirty.

  Maybe that was the problem with David and me. He obviously didn’t know me well. Didn’t know I looked forward to my thirties. That getting married was the last thing on my mind. In fact, I didn’t ever want to get married. I wasn’t the kind of woman who dreamed of her wedding day or wanted a house full of kids. Nope. Not me. Ever.

  Oh, no. His eyes started to brim with tears. Shit. This was not going to go well. David was a prideful man. He had an ego the size of his cock and his bank account. Rightfully so. Both were large. It was one of the reasons I’d stayed with him for a year now—for the sex, not the money. The sex was off the charts. I normally ended things with men at the three-month mark. It was deliberate. A safeguard to avoid situations like this.

  Men for me were like a new pair of shoes. An impulsive decision. My favorites until they weren’t. Until they became too painful to force myself to keep. The blisters they brought no longer worth it.

  Yes, David Cumming was not going to take this well. Cumming. His last name alone was reason enough for me to refuse his proposal. Cumming. Ugh. I could never.

  My sorry excuse for parents not only left me with relationship and trust issues, but they named me the worst possible name they could. Alotta. Understandably, I went by Lottie, and few people knew my birth name—Alotta Louise Davis.

  Mrs. Alotta Cumming. I cringed at the thought. Though with David, it would be an accurate description of our relationship. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he took my last name instead. Mr. David Davis. That had a nice ring to it. He would never, though. He had that ego after all.

  I smiled at the fact I was crazy enough to even be considering name options in the moment. It must be the ring making me think of the possibilities. Shit. He caught me smiling. Now he was smiling even wider, incorrectly interpreting my smile.

  God. This is going to be bad. He was still smiling. And he was looking at me. Waiting. Quietly. Shit. Shit. Shit. When did he stop talking? I picked up my glass of Riesling, taking a sip of liquid courage to help wet my dry throat. Well, here goes nothing….

  1

  Lottie

  The wheels touched down on the tarmac. The plane jerked and bounced as it made contact with the pavement, jolting me awake from my light slumber. I lifted my head, nudging Hannah, whose head rested on my shoulder. When we were given the all clear by the flight crew, I powered on my phone. It dinged and vibrated with a slew of voicemails, texts, and email alerts—mostly work related, a few from friends wishing me a happy birthday, and multiple missed calls and voicemails from a number I didn’t recognize.

  I skimmed through and responded to the urgent ones as we waited for our luggage to appear on the conveyor belt at baggage claim.

  My thumb hovered over the recording of the unfamiliar number. The area code was definitely something I recognized. It was from my tiny hometown in Texas. There was only one person I still periodically spoke to from there. The number on my phone was not her number. Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard from her at all. I would have expected to, particularly today—my birthday. It was one of the few occasions she’d actually call me.

  My mother and I hadn’t been close since I was a small girl. The older I got, the farther we grew apart. As I aged, I became more aware of how much appearances were more important to her over the actual happiness of me or herself.

  An unsettling feeling tumbled and twisted in my stomach. Hannah returned to my side after finding and pulling her luggage from the masses. She glanced over at me, bumping her shoulder against mine.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, deciding to hold off on listening to the voicemail. “I’m good.”

  Looking up from my phone, I finally spotted my own designer suitcase. I pulled it off the moving belt, following Hannah out of Sea-Tac airport to head home to my high-rise apartment in downtown Seattle.<
br />
  Sliding into the backseat of the cab, I settled in next to Hannah, my head falling back to rest on the seat. Even though our trip to Milan had taken it out of me, the escape from Seattle was just what I needed after the shitstorm that took place a few nights ago with David.

  I loved traveling. Luckily, I was able to do it at least a few times a year on someone else’s dime. Benefits of the job I loved—a buyer for one of the largest high-end department stores in America. One minute I could be sipping a glass of Riesling in Seattle and the following evening a glass of Merlot in Italy. That’s another thing I loved—wine. There were a lot of things I loved, just not David. And after the harsh words he spewed that night when I rejected his proposal, I was pretty sure he no longer ‘loved’ me.

  I was terrible at relationships—one of the many reasons why I avoided them. My affinity for wine was probably my only successful long-term relationship. It was a give and take type of bond. Give me a glass, and I would take comfort in its deliciousness.

  Yes, wine was always there for me when I needed it. And tonight, when I was sitting in my apartment alone, I’d need it to help drown my sorrows from the end of my relationship with David.

  I know what you’re thinking…but you’re wrong. I’m not completely heartless.

  Just because I didn’t want to marry David, didn’t mean I wanted to break his heart or end things with him. But there was no going back to the way things were after he popped the big question. It would always be in the back of our minds, festering and growing painful like a wart you couldn’t get rid of. A constant, ugly reminder.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Hannah asked, her hazel eyes narrowing as she stared at me with disapproval. “You’ve been moping around for the last four days. It almost ruined my whole trip.”

  Snapping my head up, I looked out the window at the passing streets with an exaggerated breath. I thought about ignoring her. A part of me really wanted to ignore her. I couldn’t. She wouldn’t stop prying until I answered.

  “Nothing.”

  “Well, you look like shit. I feel like I need to put you on suicide watch or something.”

  “Don’t hold back, Han. Give it to me straight,” I snorted sarcastically, praying for the ride and conversation to come to a swift end. The Friday afternoon traffic moved at a snail’s pace, telling me my prayer would likely go unanswered.

  Hannah was my bestie outside of work and my right-hand gal at work. She was a woman after my own heart. The ying to my yang. The peas to my carrots. The mashed potatoes to my gravy. As Meredith Grey would say, she was my person. Which was exactly why I couldn’t hide anything from her.

  “Don’t tell me this is about David.”

  I turned my head to look at her. Her eyes were focused downward, her fingers typing away on her phone as she spoke.

  “I still can’t believe he actually proposed. I also can’t believe you said no. The man was fucking gorgeous. And rich. And good in bed. And rich.”

  “You already said that.”

  “Well, it’s an important quality. Especially for someone who makes a living out of shopping.” The corner of her lip pulled into a teasing grin. “So, is this about David?” She lowered her phone back in her lap to look up at me once again.

  I shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe.” Then immediately shook my head, knowing it really wasn’t. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. It had to end at some point.”

  I’d miss David, sure. But my somber mood had less to do with him and more to do with the idea of not having anyone to spend what little spare time I had with. I’d gotten used to having him around. I looked away from her. My skin prickled, feeling her gaze on me, assessing me.

  “Fine.” She sighed, tucking a fallen piece of her platinum-blond hair behind her ear. She picked her phone back up, aggressively pounding away at it. “God, I wish we were still in Milan. I could move there.” She let out a faint exhale. “I seriously considered it too after the hottie from the bar last night.”

  I scoffed, cocking my head to the side as I stared at her. “Really? You’d pack up your life and move across the world for a man you barely said three words to? And those words were ‘Hi, I’m Hannah.’”

  “Hey, when it’s true love, it’s true love.” She looked up from her phone, winking with a toothy smile. “Besides, I like them better when I don’t have to carry on a conversation with them. He was the ideal husband. Hot and didn’t speak a lick of English.”

  I snorted a chuckle. “Sure, Hannah. The two of you were the picture of an ideal couple.”

  She pushed my shoulder, nearly knocking me into the passenger side door, making me laugh harder while I righted myself. “Hey! Watch it!” I reprimanded through my laughter.

  “At least I know what I want. It’s not like you can say the same.”

  “I know what I want,” I responded firmly, slightly offended.

  “Right. To die an old maid surrounded by cats.” She gave me a condescending smile before turning her attention back to her phone.

  “No. I hate cats. Now dogs, maybe. But definitely not cats,” I mocked her. “Maybe even fish. They’re more self-sufficient.”

  “Whatever.” She dismissed my taunting with her hand. “My point is, not everyone has your jaded views on love and marriage. And the life you’ve planned for yourself sounds like a lonely one.” She pinned me with her eyes. “Someday, Lottie, there’s going to be a man who walks into your life, knocking that ridiculous notion you have out of your head. And I’m buying front row seats when it happens.”

  I squinted my eyes at her absurd prediction. “Never going to happen, Han. Besides, I won’t be lonely…I’ll always have you.” I grinned.

  She laughed, relenting on the argument she knew she’d never win. The argument I was avoiding, determined to ignore the small niggling in my stomach, making me think maybe there was some truth to her words. I wasn’t going there. I’d made up my mind a long time ago. Marriage wasn’t for me. The union was a façade more often than not.

  “True. And we’ll always have our trips to Milan with sexy, Italian men begging to be charmed by your American Southern accent.”

  I unlocked my front door, leaving my luggage in the entry before falling limply onto my couch, kicking up my feet. I closed my eyes, exhausted from my travels, relieved it was Friday. I wouldn’t be forced to go into the office in the morning, but I’d still likely be working over the weekend. At least, I could do it in the comfort of my own home. Wearing yoga pants. And a messy bun. Without judgement.

  Even when I wasn’t in the office, I was constantly working—scanning fashion bloggers’ sites, Instagrams, and watching the latest runway shows online—constantly shopping the competition. My job was my life. To be successful in my career, I always had to be at the top of my game and in the know of the hottest trending fashions. It was a twenty-four seven commitment. The only commitment I had room for. And I was perfectly content with that.

  As my body started to meld into the cushions, becoming one with the couch, my phone buzzed with a new call. I groaned, lifting my head to glare at where it rested on the coffee table. I rolled my tired, aching body upward, swinging my legs in front of me to plant my feet on the floor. Picking up the phone, I stared at the screen flashing the now familiar unfamiliar number.

  I hesitated answering, the eerie feeling hovering once again. I shook it off, pressing the green button seconds before it rang to voicemail.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Alotta Davis?” a female voice with a Southern drawl asked.

  This was definitely not someone I knew if she was referring to me as that. “Yes, this is she.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” She sighed. “I’ve been trying to reach you for the last forty-eight hours. You had me worried half to death.”

  “I’m sorry. Umm…who is this?”

  “Oh, dear! I apologize. I guess I should’ve started with that. I’m just so relieved to finally have you on the phone. This is Mrs. Covington, Mr. Daniels’ assistant
.”

  “Mr. Daniels?”

  “Yes. Gerard Daniels, your mama’s attorney.”

  “Um…oh-kay. What can I help you with, Mrs. Covington? I’m sure whatever it is, my mother would be the better person to contact.”

  “Oh, honey…” She drew out the word with a sympathetic sigh I didn’t appreciate. “I know it isn’t my place to be the one to tell you this, but Mr. Daniels is in a meeting right now and…well…honestly, I didn’t think you’d answer. I thought I’d just be leavin’ another voicemail for you to call him back.”

  “Mrs. Covington, please.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. “I’ve had a long day of traveling and I’m exhausted. Will you just say whatever it is you need to tell me?”

  I did my best to keep the annoyance out of my tone. I was in no mood to deal with whatever this was. All I wanted was some sleep and a bottle of wine. And the longer the woman spoke, the more agitated I felt.

  “Oh, dear…all right then…I guess there’s no good way of tellin’ you this, but your mama has passed.”

  “Passed what?” My brow furrowed, my eyes flicking open.

  “Away, dear. Your mama has passed away. She’s gone to be with the good Lord.”

  I stared straight ahead, unable to focus on anything as I processed the words she’d said. She fell silent for a moment before saying more.

  “I’m sorry, hon. I know this must be a bit of a shock for you. It was for all of us here in Billingsley. None of us had any idea she’d been sick. Your mama was a pillar of the community and—”