Emilie Rose - The Lottery Winner

She took it and lifted the lid. A gold heart necklace with three different-colored gemstones sparkled on the satin liner. The little tab said fourteen karat. It wasn’t junk.

“Those are Bethany and the girls’ birthstones,” he added. “I special ordered it.”

Kudos to him. He’d spent time and effort and had even planned ahead. She’d have expected him to just grab the closest thing—from the clearance rack, if his clothes were anything to go by. She snapped the box shut and handed it back. “She should like it.”

“Ya think?” He sounded so hopeful. Someone ought to tell him he was too old to have that puppy-dog look in his eyes.

“I think she will. What about a cake? Not that our desserts aren’t delicious, but a cake would be a personal touch.”

His dumbfounded expression gave her the answer. He hadn’t thought of that. Two of the kitchen staff came in. She greeted them then motioned Ignatius toward the dining room. She wanted him out of the sanctuary of her workspace.

“I have a friend who’s a baker. I’ll get something special from her. What’s Bethany’s favorite dessert?”

He shrugged, and his cheeks darkened again. “Does she hate anything?” Another shrug. “Allergies?” Same response. Miri sighed. She didn’t know whether to feel sorry for the guy or be angry with him for knowing nothing about his child. “Which birthday is it?”

“Thirty-nine.”

“Not a milestone, then. I’ll put you in Jessie’s section. She has a way with our younger customers that’ll put the girls at ease. And I’ll seat you right over there.” She pointed at the table she usually reserved for honeymooners. “It’s quieter so you can talk, and you can see the fish on two sides. Your granddaughters won’t have to fight for the best seat.”

“I...thanks, Miri. I appreciate it.”

“Now I need a favor from you.”

“Name it.”

“Drop Logan’s case.”

His expression turned from gratitude to pugnacity in a blink. Probably his cop I’m-writing-you-a-ticket face. “If I do he’ll just hire somebody else.”

That wasn’t what she wanted to hear even if she suspected it was true. “He’s so focused on finding his ex-wife he won’t even date anyone else.”

Green eyes searched her face. “Have you dated anyone since your husband passed?”

Taken aback by the unexpected attack, she struggled for an answer. “We’re not talking about me.”

“You’re accusing the man of not moving on with his life. I’m just saying, you might want to look in the mirror.”

She straightened to her full height at the offensive remark and opened her mouth to tell him where to go. But then she spotted the bartender close enough to overhear. With tremendous effort, she reined in her temper. Having a business to run required her to mind her manners no matter the provocation. Word got around. She couldn’t afford to tell the fathead what she thought of his rotten psychoanalysis skills. Not here. Not now. But one day...

“Leave dinner to me. We’ve got you covered.”

“Thanks, Miri. I owe ya.”

“Yes. You do.”

Logan plowed through the kitchen door into the dining area like a man on a mission. His eyebrows jacked up when he saw Ignatius, but he didn’t slow until he was beside them.

“You look all nice and tanned. Did you take the morning off?” Miri asked him.

“I’ve been out on I’s boat. Did you know Jessie’s an artist?”

She struggled with the news that Logan and Ignatius knew each other well enough to share expensive toys, then the rest of his comment sank in. “And you know that how?”

“I saw her work. She’s very talented.”

Compliments after he’d been pressuring her to fire Jessie? Miri picked up a weird vibe. Logan might not be a teenager anymore, but she could still read him pretty well. “Where did you see her art?”

He glanced at the PI, confirming her suspicions that these two were in cahoots, then Logan met her gaze. “At her house.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. Jessie had been very careful about not disclosing her address, and she and Logan didn’t get along. Jessie wouldn’t have shared that information with him.

“How do you know where she lives?” she pressed, suspecting she already knew the answer.

He paused. “I followed her home last night.”

“Logan Na—”

He flung up a hand. “She’s staying in a very expensive gated waterfront rental home. A place a waitress can’t afford on tips alone. If she’s into something illegal, I don’t want you caught in the web. Today I checked out her house from the water side and saw her painting on the dock.”

Shocked to hear her suspicions confirmed, she snapped, “Logan Chancellor Nash, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” Then she remembered the bartender. Luckily, he’d gone to the back for stock.

“I’m protecting you.”

“By stalking my waitress?” she whispered then glared at Ignatius. “You used to be a cop. Tell him that’s illegal.”

“You peek in her windows?” Ignatius asked.

“Of course not.”

“You planning to harm her?”

“No.”

“She know you followed her?”

“No.”

Ignatius shrugged. “Not a problem then, as long as it doesn’t become a habit.”

Miri wanted to kick the infuriating idiot in the shin for encouraging her nephew. “It’s a problem for me!”

Logan ignored her outburst and turned to his friend. “I didn’t see anything suspicious. There were no signs of drug paraphernalia in her house, and no sign of other cars in the driveway. But how’s she paying for the place? Rich husband? Boyfriend? Lover? Selling drugs?”

“Valid questions,” Ignatius replied.

Miri poked a finger at Logan’s chest. “That’s none of your business. I’ve told you before, leave Jessie alone.”

Heaven help the poor girl if she discovered Logan’s actions. She was already spooked about someone or something.

“She didn’t know what I was really looking for when I asked to see more of her work. She invited me inside. I checked out most of the house,” he added for Ignatius.

“Being sneaky and devious doesn’t make it right, Logan.”

“I told her to bring one of her paintings here today to display and sell.”

Yet another sign of his presumption. “This is my restaurant. Don’t you think you should have consulted me first?” Not that she wouldn’t have helped Jessie if she’d known.

“When you see her work, you’ll want to replace every picture in this place.”

No, she wouldn’t. There were memories attached to each one. But she couldn’t say that, because it would only make Ignatius think he was right and that she hadn’t moved beyond her grief over losing Jack. “What hangs in my restaurant is still my decision.”

“Right. I told her you wouldn’t want a commission, but if her painting sells, then you could invite other local artists to display here and take a percentage of the sales price.”

No doubt her pigheaded nephew meant well. He was probably trying to replace her nest egg. He’d never accept that she didn’t blame him for his exes’ dirty work. But as long as she had enough money to keep a roof over her head and Sue in a job until they were both ready to retire, then she had enough.

“I swear, Logan, sometimes your heart’s in the right place, but your methodology is all wrong. Don’t help me anymore. Do you understand?”

“I hear you.”

But she knew he’d ignore her as he’d always done. He was one stubborn son of a gun. She only hoped he didn’t run Jessie off before she could help the girl—whatever her problems.

* * *

JESSIE TURNED THE corner onto Margaret Street, spotted Logan outside the Fisherman’s Widow and missed a step. She couldn’t get inside the restaurant without going past him.