Chapter Five
Lottie
At 7:30 the next morning, I usher Felicity into Doris’s living room. I’m not expecting to find Anthony Lucio up and about already—in navy blue dress slacks that probably cost more than my truck and a cream-colored button-down with dark blue pin-stripes. He looks divine, which is simply unfair at this hour. “I see you shed the suit coat. No tie, either.”
He takes a sip from a mug I’ve pulled from Doris’s cabinet before. I had him pegged as a Starbucks man, not a home-brewed cup sort of guy.
“Good morning to you, too, Charlotte.” His voice is even deeper in the morning, and my stomach does a joyful backflip. This attorney is not good for my digestive system. He’s good for my eyes, though, as he leans casually against the lower cabinets of Doris’s kitchen, that perpetual frown in place.
He’d look better if he smiled.
“To what do we owe the honor?” His voice is dry, borderline sarcastic. “Or do you make your presence in this home a regular thing?”
“Naturally.” I set down Felicity’s tote bag. The rest of her things are in a caddy beside the couch. “Actually, Doris and Camila watch Felicity most days for me during school breaks.”
He plunks the mug on the counter and swivels around, arms crossed over a torso that seems broader than I remember from yesterday. That suit coat was hiding important things.
Down, girl. What has gotten into you? Seriously, this man needs to go back to Atlanta and give me back my usual stoic brain. I only met him last night. He could be a wanted felon for all I know.
Although, I think Camila would have told me that at some point.
“That works out quite conveniently for you.”
I don’t take advantage of his mother and aunt. “I pay them.” A little. As much as they’ll let me. I put the rest into the farm. They would support that if they knew.
He opens his mouth for another smart comeback, I’m sure, when Doris bustles into the room. “Now, Anthony, you stop harassing our Lottie. That’s not how we do things here, is it sugar?” She swoops in to hug Felicity, who shakes her head at Anthony, her eyes dancing. She might only be eight, but she’s got adults figured out. Even the cranky ones.
“Well, I gotta scoot.” I walk backward toward the door, and Anthony follows me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
His nostrils flare. It doesn’t take a lot to irritate this man. “To visit my mother. That’s why I’m here, after all. It’s not for the views or the smells, I assure you.”
I feel insulted on behalf of the entire state. “Are all lawyers crab apples, or is it only the ones I’ve met?” Not waiting for a reply, I stalk across Doris’s lawn, heading for my own. The grass crunches behind me, and I groan and turn around. “What now? I suppose you have a critique of my work attire? I’m sorry I can’t afford a wardrobe like yours.”
He jerks his head back, his eyebrows sky-high. “I was going to say nothing of the sort. You look…” He pauses and waves his hand awkwardly between us. “Fine.”
Fine? I feel so much better.
“I only wanted to apologize. I’m not much of a morning person, and I can come across a bit grumpy.”
“More so than the rest of the time?” The words fly from my mouth, and only as his shock wears off do his lips curve with a small smile. It’s transformative to his face, and I wish he’d keep going.
“I’ve never possessed a full dose of sunshine,” he says. “It seems you have enough for the both of us—when I’m not upsetting you.” He’s right about that.
“It’s nothing personal. I haven’t had the best experience with lawyers in the past.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “Family court?”
“Did Doris tell you?”
He nods.
“My ex-husband’s lawyer wasn’t a peach, that’s sure. I did all right in the end, but it wasn’t an experience I wish to repeat again in my life.”
“That’s why I don’t do family law.”
By now, he’s followed me all the way to my garage. “What do you do?”
“Civil, business, and bankruptcy.”
I jump into my truck and turn the key in the ignition, ignoring the pitter-patter of my heart. After two long hours spent under the hood late last night, the engine came to life. Will it fail me now?
It sputters once, then catches. Yes.I roll my window down and give Anthony a thumbs-up. “When I go broke, I’ll be sure to call you.”
After I back out, I idle in my driveway beside him. “Just so you’re aware, Casey’s has the best coffee in town.” I throw in a wink at his look of dismay. I’ve tasted Doris’s coffee. It leaves a lot to be desired. “For tomorrow.”
I check my rearview mirror as I drive away, and he’s still standing in my driveway. Watching me.
I’m the manager of Living Waters Resale, a consignment store operated by The Safe Place, a non-denominational contemporary church in town. I’m not a member, but they hired me when I was going through my divorce, and I’ve worked here ever since. My church is to the south of Red Rock Place, a structure built in the 1880s before this town existed.
“I thought you were going to be late for the first time in your career, Lottie,” my best cashier Sheila calls out as I walk in the backdoor. Employees park behind. There are only ever two of us at a time. One is always me. But I have several part-time workers who take various shifts throughout the week.
I hang my purse on a knob behind the door that leads into the front room of the store. “Camila’s son is staying with Doris. He’s a total grump who doesn’t belong here.”
Her eyes grow wide. “My grandma saw him last night at Casey’s. Said he looked straight out of Hollywood.”
I get a good laugh out of that. “Oh, he’s a looker. But you have to find an alternative route around the cranky mood first.” I’m not about to mention that he brings out the crankiest behavior in me that I’ve exhibited since I was dealing with the last lawyer in my life.
The day flies by. I enjoy this work, interacting with the regulars and meeting the rare strangers who stop by from neighboring towns on the hunt for second-hand treasures. Thrifting has become such a trend that sometimes I don’t put out items I know will get lapped up by those planning to make a profit by reselling. I know who needs what in this town. I make sure only the right eyes see the best things.
At 5:00 that evening, I lock the doors but wait until my last customer has finished browsing. I ring her up before escorting her to the door, then blitz to the back. I have a piano lesson in my living room at 5:30, dinner to make, and Felicity needs a shower. Oh, goodness gracious. My mom is coming for dinner at 6:30. I nearly forgot.
I check the time as I hurriedly count out the cash drawer. A perfect balance. Good thing, because I don’t have a minute to lose.
The piano lesson with little Eloise Lawson is a breeze. She’s only five but has so much natural talent, she started her first lesson at age three.
“Honey?” My mom’s voice calls out before I’ve even closed the door behind Eloise and her big sister. She appears in the doorway, her graying hair pulled back into a low ponytail. “Thought I’d come early to help with the dinner.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” I give her a hug. “Would you run next door and collect Felicity? I haven’t had a chance.”
She slips back out the door and returns in seconds, sans Felicity. “Lottie Huisman Alden, who is the gorgeous man on Doris’s porch?”
“Mom!” I gasp, my mouth dropping open. I’ve never heard her talk this way.
“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed how handsome he is. And you didn’t say a word about him. Shame on you. That’s the lawyer, isn’t it?” She hooks her arm through mine and drags me to the door. “I demand an introduction.”
I barely keep up with her as we bob along together, so out of step I’ll fall any second. My face is warm by the time we stop on Doris’s porch. There, Anthony sits on a wicker chair, his feet propped up on the matching white footrest. A laptop is perched on his lap, and he is staring at us over the rim of his glasses.
I clear my throat. I’m nervous, and I don’t understand why. “Hello, Anthony. I hope we’re not interrupting your work.”
His lips press into a straight line, and then he releases a longsuffering sigh. “Is there something I can do for you, Charlotte?”
My mom pushes forward. Her posture tells me she’s incensed. “You’re having him call you Charlotte? Lottie! No one calls you Charlotte. You hate it!”
His bemused gaze bounces back and forth between me and my mom. “Is this true?”
I’m totally caught. I didn’t want to be on such familiar terms with him. Now, thanks to my mom, there’s no escape. I give a reluctant nod. “Yes. Feel free to call me Lottie.”
He offers no response.
“Anyway. Anthony, this is my mom, Ruby Huisman. Mom, this is Anthony Lucio.”
My mom reaches for his hand and starts to talk. If she wants to butter him up, I’ll leave her to it. Inside, I find Felicity watching TV. Doris is snoring on the couch.
“Let’s go, kiddo.”
On the porch, my mom is still going at it, but Anthony doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s listening intently—because, as I quickly realize, my mom is giving him the dirt on me.
“Mom!” I say sharply, and she whips around, guilt on her face as clear as sweat glistens after a long day’s work on the farm.
“Oh, honey.” She puts her hand on my arm. “He’s Camila’s son. That makes him practically family.” She peers at me closely. “Unless you’d like him to be something more?”
Please tell me she didn’t just say that. Please tell me Anthony did not gather her intent. Please, can an extraterrestrial being come and whisk me away to a beautiful place? Heaven would be nice.
One look at Anthony’s face tells me yes, yes, and no. Yes, my mother really did imply that maybe I’d like to be more than friends with the man I met yesterday. Yes, he knows exactly what she means, judging by the shock—revulsion—on his face. My stomach clenches with something like hurt. Not that I want anything more than a farewell party for this man. But he doesn’t have to be such a jerk about it.
And the fact that I’m witnessing his very real and very unpleasant reaction to my mom’s suggestion tells me that no, an angel did not save me from this humiliation.
Thanks a lot, God. I thought we were friends. I dart a look heavenward. God and I, we’re on okay terms. If I could just…hear Him now and then, we’d be on even better terms.
“We need to leave,” I hiss and jerk my mom away by the arm. “Now.”
I don’t look back as I descend the porch stairs, my head held high. My face must be flaming. It’s hot enough I don’t think we’ll need the stove for cooking.
“Good night…Lottie.” That deep, sexy voice is the last thing I hear as I cut a path through the grass toward home. The nerve. He sounds amused, yes he does.
“I can’t believe you said that!” I wait until the front door is closed to turn on my mom. I’m screeching. I’ve totally lost my cool. When my mom reaches a hand as if to run it through my hair in her calming way, I back out of reach.
“I’m sorry, Lottie. But he couldn’t take his eyes off you the moment we stepped on the porch.”
I squint at her. “You need glasses or something? Otherwise, you’re hallucinating.”
She gives me a wise look that makes my knees tremble. “I know when a man is attracted to a woman. Anthony Lucio is attracted to you. And you, my dear daughter, are attracted to him.”
She has completely veered off the road, taken a wrong turn. There is no way Mr. Fancy Pants Anthony Lucio has an interest in this farm girl. That’s called wishful thinking. But she’s not wrong about me. I am attracted to Anthony. Horrifyingly so.
Good thing I can’t have a new man in my life anytime soon. I’m in the clear from the certain rejection a man like Anthony Lucio would throw in my face.
I’m not looking for a man. But if I were…I’d be in big trouble right about now.