Читать книгу The Lottery Winner - Emilie Rose - Страница 12
ОглавлениеJESSIE GRABBED THE tray of salads, turned and almost slammed into Sue. The older waitress blocked her path. “You do know who your birthday party guy is, right?”
“A friend of Logan’s?” She’d seen the man at the oyster bar with Miri’s nephew that first night. Miri clearly didn’t like him, so Jessie had kept her distance and she didn’t ask questions.
“He’s a private investigator who sometimes works for Logan.”
Invisible spiders climbed Jessie’s spine. Had Logan hired a PI to check up on her? “Why does Logan need a PI? I thought Miri said he was an accountant.”
“He is now, but he used to be a big-time financial adviser before his ex-wife and his ex–business partner ran off together. He was devastated by the betrayals of the two people he trusted most. Came here to lick his wounds, I suspect.”
No wonder Logan was so distrustful. “Thanks for the heads-up, Sue.”
“Just watching your back, sweetie. Us gals need to stick together.”
“Hush puppies,” called the cook, and Sue hustled off to get the sweet cornmeal appetizers while they were still hot.
As Jessie made her way across the dining room, she realized Miri and Sue must have discussed her. Approaching the table warily, Jessie noticed the unhappy faces. Logan’s PI nervously pleated his napkin. His daughter appeared resigned to a miserable meal, and the girls looked bored out of their minds. In her experience, bored kids created trouble. If Jessie didn’t intervene, they wouldn’t be here long enough to cut the beautiful cake Miri’s friend had delivered. She detoured by the hostess stand and grabbed a few items.
At their table she served the adults their salads, then set crayons and extra place mats beside each girl. She received identical you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me looks. “I know you’re too old to color a kids’ menu, but some of the fish swimming by the windows are too cool not to sketch.”
“I can’t draw,” the older girl grumbled mulishly.
“Sure you can.” Ignoring the folded arms and pouty bottom lip, Jessie tucked the empty tray under her arm and flipped a place mat to show its blank back.
“First, pick your fish. Then get his basic overall shape in your head. See if you can guess which one I’m drawing.” She used her order pen to draw an elliptical shape. “Then just add to it.” She filled in fins, eyes and a mouth. It was a fast, rough sketch, but good enough to identify which type of fish she’d chosen.
“That one!” the younger girl cried out, pointing.
“Right. You’ll be surprised how easy drawing something is once you break it down into its separate parts.”
“You’re pretty good,” the older girl said, showing interest.
“I’ve had a few years of practice. And you know the secret?” Jessie leaned down but whispered loud enough that both girls could hear. “Nobody starts out good.”
The younger girl grabbed a crayon and pointed it at a barracuda. “I’m drawing the long one. I like his teeth.”
“I’ll bring over more place mats if you run out.” Filled with satisfaction for the first time since her exile, Jessie looked up and caught the woman’s grateful smile, then the PI’s speculative gaze.
Nerves twisted her stomach. That was twice today that she’d unintentionally revealed something that could blow her cover, but her love of art—specifically, sharing it with children—was hard to suppress. She had to be more careful.
* * *
JESSIE GLANCED IN the rearview mirror and caught sight of the picture of the Key deer in the backseat of her rental car Friday morning. Another wave of guilt swamped her.
She’d started her morning with lying to her brother, and there was no way she could feel good about that. When he’d asked her plans for the day, she’d evaded the truth by telling him she was looking forward to painting No Name Key rather than confessing her excitement over displaying her first picture in public. It wasn’t a complete lie. She was eager to paint the island across the waterway and maybe even visit it to explore. But not today. Or tomorrow. Or even Sunday.
She worried during the entire drive south about displaying her work in such a public setting. It would be the first momentous occasion of her life that her family hadn’t been a part of, and if it blew up in her face, she’d have no one but herself to blame.
Her anxiety crested when the restaurant came into view. With any luck Logan would be at an office somewhere and not lurking at the Widow. The man had to work sometime, didn’t he? Heart in her throat, she turned into the small parking lot and parked beside Miri’s truck. After scanning the area, she extricated the canvas and headed for the building. So far, so good. No Logan.
As promised, Miri had left the side door unlocked for her. The dining room was empty, but Jessie heard the hum of conversation and the clank of pots in the kitchen. The wall behind the register was empty save a brass hanger protruding from the whitewashed bead board. She hefted the frame and positioned it over the hook. Then she stepped back to study the largest painting she’d done to date. The splash of colors looked good. Pride and excitement bubbled inside her. She ached to snap a picture, send it to her family and share the moment.
The canvas tilted slightly to the left. She reached to adjust it. A long arm stretched past her, and a big hand covered hers. Her heart lurched with panic. She ducked away and spun around, slamming her left elbow against the hostess stand. Pain shot to her fingertips. But it was only Logan, not some nameless assailant sneaking up on her. Darn her brother and his daily dire tales.
“You nearly scared me to death. Don’t you have a job you should be at?” How had he gotten so close without her hearing him? She cursed the sudden dryness of her mouth and wiggled her tingling digits. Hitting your funny bone was not at all funny.
One dark eyebrow dipped. “I set my own hours. Why are you so jumpy, Jessie?”
“I don’t like people sneaking up on me.” He was too close. The space behind the stand wasn’t built for two—one of whom was a broad-shouldered man whose subtle citrus and spice cologne filled her nostrils, making it difficult to breathe. She needed to escape, but he blocked her path.
“I didn’t sneak. I walked from over there.” He pointed to a two-top tucked in a shadowy corner by the bar—not his usual spot at the bar. An open folder, an empty plate and a glass confirmed his statement. “Are you always this nervous?”
Only since winning that stupid lottery. “I’m anxious about displaying my work.” She stifled a wince at yet another half truth. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to move my car from the parking lot.”
She wanted to leave before she had to tell more lies.
“It’s fine beside Miri’s.”
A tremor slithered through her. She was supposed to be aware of her surroundings. Had he watched her arrive and she hadn’t even noticed?
He extracted a pen and a small manila card from his shirt pocket. “What did you name this one?”
She hadn’t. “How about Morning Visitors?”
He wrote on the card, then asked, “Jessie what?”
“Just Jessie.” She’d signed the paintings with her Key West moniker. No last name. No initials. Not that she believed anyone would recognize her style or trace her through it, since she hadn’t exhibited anything since her senior year of college. But she couldn’t take that chance.
He wrote something else then stepped toward the painting, startling her into jumping back. He taped the card to the wall, and when she saw the figure he’d written below her name, her mouth fell open. “Y-you can’t ask that much for an unknown’s work.”
“You’ll get this easily. You could get more if the buyers could get a picture with you in front of it.”
“No! I, um... I don’t paint for the money.”
“That’s a naive outlook. Or that of a woman with other means of support. Do you have a deep-pocketed sugar daddy?”
“That’s rude of you to suggest, and it’s really none of your business.”
“It is if you’re doing something illegal to support yourself that could jeopardize my aunt.”
She stiffened at the implication, but she couldn’t explain. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“You expect me to take your word for it when you won’t provide even basic employee information? I’m not as gullible as Miri. You’re hiding something. Do you have a record?”
“I’ve told you I don’t. Why can’t you believe I just want to be left alone to paint?”
“Because that’s bullshi—”
The kitchen door whooshed open. Miri joined them, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, Jessie. That’s wonderful.”
Jessie’s face warmed despite the cold chill in her core caused by Logan’s distrust. “Thank you.”
“I can’t wait to brag to everyone about what a talented artist you are.”
Alarm rocketed through her. “No! You can’t.” Jessie caught Logan’s narrowed gaze on her and fumbled to recover. “I’d...um...die of embarrassment. My art is...personal. Please don’t say anything.”
Miri nodded with understanding in her eyes, hitting Jessie with another twinge of guilt. The hole she was digging with her dishonesty kept getting deeper. What would the people at church say about her behavior? But she wasn’t hurting anybody. Right?
“It’ll be our secret, hon.”
“You should go to her house and see the rest of her work,” Logan insisted. “If cleaning your old ones is going to take a while, you’ll want to send them in multiples. That’ll allow Jessie to display more pieces.”
Another frisson of anxiety swept Jessie. Logan obviously didn’t like her. Why was he trying to help her? Or was he only trying to get back into her house to find something incriminating?
“I don’t go to anyone’s house without an invitation,” Miri snapped.
Jessie liked Miri and trusted her as much as she could trust anyone she’d met only four days ago, but inviting people into her hideaway wouldn’t be a good idea. Plus, Logan, Miri’s overprotective guardian, would probably accompany her.
“There’s no need for you to trek out to my place. I’ll bring in as many paintings as you want to see. And I brought the name of a restoration specialist,” she added, trying to change the subject.
She’d had to look up the company online at the library and go by their credentials and reviews from past patrons, because she didn’t dare speak to anyone in the art community here. She handed Miri a paper containing the name and address without looking at Logan, even though she could feel his stare.
Miri tucked it in her pocket then hooked her arm through Logan’s and pulled him toward his table. “Get your stuff and go to work, Logan, so we can do the same here. Jessie and I will discuss what we’ll hang and what we’ll remove after I consult with her specialist.”
Jessie exhaled, willing her nervous tension to float away on her breath the way she’d done in her student teaching days. No luck. She never should have let Logan into her house.
Miri came back after seeing out her nephew. “Jessie, no matter how high-handed Logan gets, promise me you’ll remember he’s a good boy. He means well.”
Why did that sound like a warning?
* * *
BY THE TIME the dinner rush ended Saturday evening, Jessie was a nervous wreck. She wanted to retreat to her walled compound and not emerge for a week. She was so exhausted her old solitude was starting to appeal.
Not only had they been run-off-their-feet busy yesterday and today, but every time a customer had paused in front of her Key deer painting, adrenaline had surged into her veins, making her heart beat double time. The piece hadn’t sold. She hadn’t expected it to. Not really. Especially at the ridiculous price Logan had slapped on it. And yet a lingering disappointment and sense of rejection weighted her.
A ding from the bartender’s bell signaled that Jessie’s drink order for table twelve was ready. She hustled over to pick it up and spotted Logan at a back corner table. He hadn’t been there earlier. She knew, because she’d been watching for him. His unrelenting scrutiny made her nervous. He caught her eye before she could escape and signaled her over.
Seriously? Could he not see she was too busy to wait on him?
“Where’s the new girl?” he asked when she stopped by his table.
“She dropped a tray during the lunch rush and ran out. She hasn’t returned.”
His lips turned down. “I hope Miri had the good sense to fire her. I haven’t seen Pam, either.”
Pam was a quiet, stay-to-herself woman who raced away the minute she clocked out. Jessie’d had little interaction with her. Today she’d learned why. A single mother, Pam tried to spend as little time away from her three kids as possible. Otherwise, her husband would claim her unfit and sue for full custody. She was what Logan had referred to as one of Miri’s projects.
“Pam’s at home with a sick kid.”
“Are you handling this crowd alone?”
“Sue’s working.”
“You’re delivering a lot of her orders.”
He’d been watching her. Goose bumps lifted her skin. “It’s easy for me to bring them when I’m on my way into the dining room anyway.”
The long hours were getting to the older woman. Jessie had caught her leaning heavily against the kitchen wall while waiting for orders a few times.
The front door opened, and a party of ten entered. She needed to get back to work. “Did you want something? I’m really busy.”
Logan gathered his belongings and rose. “An order book.”
She blinked in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Get me an order pad. I’ll help. Sue doesn’t need to push so hard.”
She agreed wholeheartedly, but... “Do you know how to wait tables or operate the computer system?”
“Yes and yes.”
Dumbfounded by his unexpected assistance, it took her a moment to kick into gear. The bartender gave her the pad. She passed it to Logan.
“Which section should I take?”
She told him.
“Got it.” And then he walked off, leaving her with a tray of drinks to deliver and a load of questions.
Who was this man? The suspicious control freak who watched her and tried to micromanage Miri, or a devoted nephew who would do anything to help his aunt? She had to find out.
* * *
THE MUSIC WENT silent then all but the main dining room’s lights went dark. Jessie dropped the last refilled saltshaker into the holder and stretched her tired back.
Miri came out of the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine. “Girls, we deserve a glass.”
“Amen,” Sue said and ducked behind the bar to snag three glasses and a corkscrew, leaving Jessie with the impression the women had shared nightcaps before.
“Jessie, dump that and join us,” Miri insisted. “I sent Logan off with the night deposit ten minutes ago. We should have a few minutes’ peace. C’mon,” she added when Jessie hesitated.
This was the perfect opportunity to find out whether he was Jekyll or Hyde. After seeing how well he’d interacted with tonight’s guests, Jessie was more confused than ever. She carried the box to the kitchen and returned.
Miri eased into a chair as if her body ached. “I haven’t had to bus tables in ages. I forgot how hard it was.”
Sue sank across from her even more slowly. “Tonight required more hustle than I had in me. Busy season’s starting. Better find some new blood soon. I’m not sure how many weeks like this I can handle. And we still have tomorrow to get through. I couldn’t have made it without your help, Jessie. Don’t think I didn’t notice you grabbing my orders.” She pulled a wad of bills from her pocket. “You deserve half of this.”
Touched by the gesture, Jessie shook her head. “No, Sue. Thank you, but I don’t want your tips. My mama always taught me to pitch in when needed. That’s all I was doing.”
Blushing, the woman hesitated, then nodded and repocketed her money. “Your mama raised a fine girl.”
Miri filled and distributed the glasses then lifted hers and sampled the golden liquid. “Mmm. This is good. I’ll have to stock more of it.”
“I’ll second that,” Sue added after tasting.
Jessie searched for a way to settle her curiosity. “It was nice of Logan to help. He really seemed to know what he was doing.”
Miri nodded. “Logan came to live with me and Jack six months after his mother died. He did everything from fishing and filleting with Jack’s crew to bussing tables then waiting them here. He’s a hard worker. I’ll give him that.”
“Wasn’t his dad around?” Jessie asked.
“Carter buried himself in his grief and his work after Virginia passed and forgot all about parenting his son. By the time I figured out Carter wasn’t going to snap out of it, Logan had become a pro at fetching his own groceries, fixing his meals and getting himself to school. He covered for his father so well not even the school counselor suspected anything was wrong.”
Sue nodded. “And Carter didn’t even notice. That hasn’t changed.”
Jessie’d had students in similar, or even worse, situations to Logan’s, and she sympathized. She’d been blessed with involved parents, and hers had always been there to offer encouragement, guidance or a reprimand when needed. She depended on them as sounding boards—which was why living solo was so hard now.
Sue’s reply raised more questions about Logan, but Jessie didn’t want to seem too curious. “How old was Logan when he came here?”
Miri chuckled and shook her head. “Thirteen going on thirty. He tried to be the man of the house whenever Jack was away. Made for some interesting territorial squabbles between him and me.”
“Those squabbles returned when he did. Makes both of you hard to live with,” Sue added with the kind of candor only true friends could share. “Where’d you grow up, Jessie?”
Jessie ducked her head and bought time by sipping her wine. The cool liquid slid down her throat like ambrosia. She hadn’t had any one-on-one time with Sue and should have anticipated questions. How much could she safely reveal? “I grew up on a farm. You?” she asked hoping to derail the questioning.
“I’m a local. Been widowed more years than I was married. I didn’t pick a good husband the first time or the second. Decided to forgo a third attempt. No kids. Got a boyfriend?”
So much for changing the topic. “Not anymore.”
“You end it? Or did he?” Sue persisted, making Jessie squirm.
“I did.”
“Miss him?”
Jessie closed her eyes and tried to recall Aaron’s features. But instead of her ex-fiancé’s, the image burned on her retinas was one of tanned flesh tightly wrapped over muscles. Logan. In swim trunks. She gulped her wine and shook her head to banish the image. “Not even a little bit.”
She realized that at some point since leaving home she’d quit second-guessing whether she’d wronged Aaron by choosing her family over him, as he’d accused. Her father was right. If her fiancé had truly loved her, he would have signed the prenuptial agreement her family insisted she ask for instead of throwing a tantrum and demanding she choose between him and them.
When had that forgetting him part happened?
“What about your parents, Jessie? Are they missing you?”
“Oh, Sue, leave her be,” Miri objected.
Jessie wanted to hug Miri for intervening. “They know where I am and are probably jealous of my beach vacation.”
“Some vacation. You’re working your patootie off,” Sue grumbled.
“I don’t mind. I’m actually happy to help.” Thrilled to see the bottom of her glass and the end of this conversation, Jessie rose. The room swayed, forcing her to grab the back of her chair.
Miri sprang to her feet and caught Jessie’s elbow. Her eyes widened with alarm. “Are you okay?”
Jessie blinked to clear her head. “I’m fine. I guess I shouldn’t have had wine on an empty stomach.”
“When did you eat last?” Miri asked.
Jessie scrolled though her memory then grimaced. “Breakfast?”
Tsking, Sue rose. “You never took a lunch or dinner break?” She didn’t wait for Jessie’s answer. “Sit down, child. I’ll get you a bowl of clam chowder.”
“You don’t have to do that, Sue.”
“You took care of me. Now I’m returning the favor. Sit. I ain’t letting you leave till you eat some’n.” Then she hustled off to the kitchen.
Jessie glanced at Miri for backup, but Miri only shrugged. “You might as well listen to her. She’s a mother hen. Don’t know how I would have gotten through losing Jack without her. Down here in the Keys, we look out for our own.”
But she wasn’t one of theirs and never would be. Jessie eased back into her seat.
“And, Jessie, don’t let me hear about you skipping breaks again. I know we were busy and your intentions were good, but I can’t have you neglecting yourself. The employment folks would have my head—if Logan didn’t get it first.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t.”
“I’ll go back through the applications tomorrow and see if I can find any that come close to my minimal standards to give ’em a chance. I hate that we lost BeBe, but waitressing wasn’t really her thing, was it?”
“No.”
Sue returned with a bowl of soup and a basket of crackers. “I heated it up a bit.”
“Thank you, Sue.” Jessie’s stomach rumbled in anticipation. She put a spoonful of the thick, creamy, clam-laden chowder in her mouth and moaned. “I know now why your recipe’s so popular, Miri.”
