Emilie Rose - The Lottery Winner

Miri’s resourcefulness reminded Jessamine of her mother, who baked and sold pies and canned peaches and preserves to supplement the orchard’s income. “Do you have children?”

“We were never blessed with our own, but when my sister passed I took over raising her boy. Logan grew up and moved away. But now he’s back.”

Something ominous in the last phrase piqued Jessamine’s curiosity, but she let it go. It was none of her business. As much as she wanted to linger, she could hear her brother scolding, Making friends isn’t a good idea. She set down the mug and rose. “Thank you for the coffee, Miri. I’m sorry for your loss. It sounds like you had a great marriage.”

“Oh, we did. But it’s not just missin’ Jack that has me upset. It’s the torrent of other pressures... Oh, never mind. I’ve enjoyed your company, Jessie. I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to an old lady’s problems.”

She didn’t. Glancing at the sun and acknowledging she wouldn’t be back in her compound before it fully rose, she sank back onto the chair. “You’re not old. You’re what my mama calls ‘experienced.’ So what else is wrong?”

“Truthfully, my nephew is driving me nuts. Logan moved back here after Jack died, and Lord, that boy hovers. He watches every move I make and tries to tell me how to run my business. I didn’t mind at first because...well, he needed to feel useful, but now...” She put a hand to her forehead and rolled her eyes. “I’ve had enough. Then yesterday, my best waitress called in to tell me her obstetrician has put her on complete bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy. I was already one server short with our busy season just around the corner. If Logan gets wind that Carla’s gone—he never liked her because she’s...well...different—I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Don’t say anything. But Jessamine’s mouth opened anyway. “I waited tables all through college. I’m sure it wouldn’t be that difficult to train someone. You could probably have two new servers in no time.”

Miri’s hazel eyes sharpened. “Carla did all the training. Has for years. Do you have a job, Jessie?”

Jessamine’s toes curled in her sneakers. “Um...not at the moment.”

“Want one?”

Say no. “I won’t be here much longer.”

“Are you on vacation?”

“I’m kind of on a...sabbatical.” The word her father had used popped out.

“You could help me train the new hires.”

No. No. No. “Miri, I appreciate the offer, but you don’t even know me. I could be a criminal.”

“Are you?”

“No.” Jessamine sighed. Why couldn’t she lie?

“Then I know what I need to. You’re kind, compassionate and an experienced waitress. Please, Jessie. I’m desperate.”

She shouldn’t risk the exposure. “I really don’t need a job.”

“Just a week. Two at the most. Keep my customers happy and my nephew off my back while you train your replacements.”

Jessamine searched for an excuse and came up empty. You don’t owe this near stranger an explanation. Just. Say. No.

“We serve lunch and dinner Friday through Sunday but only dinner the rest of the week. I pay well. C’mon, Jessie. I need you. It would be a load off my mind if I didn’t have to close my doors because I don’t have enough staff to open tonight.”

Jessamine could practically hear the vacuum sound as she got sucked in. Filling out forms with her name and address wouldn’t be smart.

“Please?” Hazel eyes pleaded. “You’d be working with two other waitresses. One’s very experienced. The other’s not bad.”

Jessie was sick of her own company. Her vacation felt like solitary confinement. And tips were often cash. If she helped Miri, she could solve her own problem this time instead of relying on her family to send her money—money they couldn’t spare. She caved like soggy papier-mâché.

“I can help. But only if you’ll let me work for tips alone. No paycheck. No paper trail.”

Miri’s pale eyebrows shot up. Her gaze turned speculative. “Okay. You’re hired. I’ll get you a copy of Carla’s schedule. Be right back.”

Miri disappeared into the building. Again, Jessamine heard Brandon’s voice. Not smart, Li’l Bit. You should have said no. Run while you can.

But her body hadn’t obeyed the order by the time Miri returned and slid a paper and pen across the table. “I’ll need your phone number and clothing sizes.”

“I, um...”

Her cellular and home phone numbers had been hacked within hours of the lottery win announcement, and the begging calls had come around the clock from strangers, “friends” and relatives so distant no one could remember them. Their sob stories of children with cancer or single moms living in cars had been so convincing and heart wrenching that Jessamine had wanted to help them all. Her father’s intervention was the only thing that had stopped her from blowing that first check on strangers. He’d warned her she’d soon be broke if she didn’t toughen up.

Then her brother had confiscated her old phone and disconnected her house phone. He’d taken her to buy a box of disposable units from different stores, then he’d given her strict instructions to use a phone for two weeks then discard it and open a new one. She no longer kept a phone long enough to learn the number.

Miri waited. “I, um...don’t know my number.”

“None of us do anymore. It’s a push-button world these days. I’ll need it if I need to call you to change your schedule. No one will have it except me. I’ll wait while you look it up.”

Suspecting she might be making a mistake she’d live to regret, Jessamine reluctantly pulled out her phone, turned it on and wrote down the number that appeared on the screen. She added her clothing sizes and handed the paper back to Miri. The woman folded it and tucked it into her bra.

“I’ll keep it right here. No one will get it.” Miri reached across the table and covered Jessamine’s hand. “Do you need a safe place to stay, Jessie?”

The question threw her. “I have one. Thanks.”

“Are you sure? Because I have a guest room over my garage. You can stay as long as you want. And Jack left me a .30-30. Kicks like hell but gets the job done.”

Miri was offering protection and even willing to use a rifle to provide it. She must think Jessamine was running from someone—an abusive ex or something. The thoughtfulness of a stranger made her eyes sting. She squeezed Miri’s hand. “I’m good. But thank you.”

“Then I’ll see you today at three. I’ll have a uniform for you and we’ll go over my system. Jessie, I can’t thank you enough for helping me through this rough patch.”

Jessamine rose and beat a hasty retreat, kicking herself the whole way back to her vehicle. She debated not returning tonight. Miri only had her phone number. No last name. No address. Jessamine would simply have to toss this phone to avoid any calls.

But she’d promised. Miri needed her help training waitresses and running interference with the bossy nephew. Jessam—Jessie could do that. And then she’d go home with a clear conscience.

But she had to learn to say no. Starting now.

* * *

THE PRETTY BRUNETTE caught Logan’s eye even before he took his customary seat at the oyster bar. She was lean but in shape, and she had great legs. Sleek muscles flexed beneath the smooth, tanned skin revealed by the Fisherman’s Widow’s uniform of a tank top and denim skort. A thick, loose braid hung to the middle of her back with escaped strands of hair draping her cheeks.

She’d waited tables before, though not here. It showed in the easy way she carried five loaded plates on one arm, refilled glasses with a flick of her wrist and kept the hush puppy baskets full. She had an engaging smile for the customers, but tension lingered behind it.