The Lottery Winner (5 page)

“No. You don't...” He hadn't laughed. Had she expected him to? “I'm not explaining this well. Bethany and I... We don't... We're not close.”

That wasn't a surprise. “What did you do to piss her off, Ignatius?”

“Don't call me that. It reminds me of Catholic school.”

“It's your name.
I
is only a letter. What did you do to turn your daughter against you?” she pressed.

His cheeks turned ruddy. “I wasn't there for her and her mother when she was young. I worked all the time, trying to make detective. Then when Bethany was sixteen, Eileen split and moved down here. I couldn't afford to come down more than once a year, so I didn't get to see my daughter or granddaughters much. Other than birthday and Christmas cards and social media, we don't communicate.”

“Why try to change that now?”

“Because Sydney and Chloe are the spittin' image of their mama, and when I see their pictures online I realize how much I missed of Bethany's childhood. I want a chance to do right by those girls.”

Sympathy surged like a storm tide inside Miri. She wished Logan's father would have a similar revelation before it was too late. “How old are they?”

“Ten and twelve.”

She gave him bonus points for knowing their ages. “Have you bought your daughter a present?”

“Yeah.” He dug into his pocket, pulled out a small, unwrapped jewelry box and shoved it toward her. “Just picked it up.”

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.

* * *

J
ESSIE
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.

Wind ruffled his dark hair and his white, rolled-sleeve button-down shirt accentuated his tan. He resembled one of the rich guys who frequented the yachts parked along the wharf. But she now knew what he looked like in nothing but swim trunks, and that was...a distraction that made her sketching hand twitchy.

She saw the exact second he spotted her, because his posture changed. Looking as alert as a hunter with its next meal in the crosshairs, he watched her cross the street. She covered the automatic urge to tug at the short hem of her uniform skort by blotting her damp palms on her hips. The encounter ahead wouldn't be fun.

“Where's the painting?” he demanded.

“I didn't bring it.” The fire of excitement had fizzled soon after he roared off in his boat. Doubts about putting herself out there had dogged her as she showered and dressed for work. Then she'd realized his demand that she bring the painting wasn't even about her.

His eyebrows lowered. “Why?”

“While your offer is generous and flattering, it's Miri's restaurant. I want to check with her first.”

His eyes narrowed. “Did she call you?”

“No. Why?”

“Never mind. She has to accept that the stuff on the walls needs replacing.”

“That's your opinion. She might disagree.”

He strode to the door and yanked it open, motioning for Jessie to go first. He loomed behind her like a hovering hawk as she went to the kitchen in search of Miri. On the way, she checked out the current wall art—something she'd only done superficially before because she'd been too busy watching the patrons. Each piece was of good quality. But all needed some TLC.

Miri glanced up from the pie crust in front of her when they entered. Her rolling pin stilled.

“Tell her to bring her painting,” Logan demanded, and Miri's expression turned uneasy.

Jessie gave Miri a sympathetic smile. “I thought Logan should ask why you've never replaced the ones you have.”

A tiny smile curved Miri's lips. “Jack gave them to me. Each one commemorates a moment of our lives together.”

Jessie shot Logan an I-told-you-so look. “Her art has sentimental value. You can't just discard it.”

Logan rocked his jaw back and forth. “I'm trying to update this place and make both of you some money.”

“I don't want it at Miri's expense.”

Miri laid a hand on Jessie's forearm and gave her a squeeze. “You're a dear and I love you for thinking of me, Jessie. But I want to help you. Truly, I do. And if you're as good an artist as Logan says, this exposure could be good for you—even if I have to buy easels to display them. Please, bring your paintings.”

Miri's encouragement fanned the ember Logan had lit. How could she make this a win-win situation? “I have an idea. Follow me.”

Jessie grabbed a clean rag, dampened a corner of it, then led them to the oil of one of Key West's historic Victorian homes that hung behind the cash register. “Tell me about this one.”

Miri's face softened. “That's the bed-and-breakfast where Jack and I honeymooned. It's the first piece of real art he bought me.”

“Then it definitely should stay. It's a quality piece. But I'm guessing these have been here since the days when smoking was allowed inside restaurants?”

Miri nodded.

Jessie gently rubbed one side of the frame where it wouldn't be visible to guests, then displayed the sooty residue for Miri to see. “All it needs to revive the original colors is a professional cleaning. I could hang one of mine while yours is out for restoration. I'll help you find someone reputable to do the job, at minimal cost. It'll come back as good as new.”

She knew how to do it because she'd interned at an estate auction house her senior year of high school, but she couldn't volunteer to do the job without giving too much away.

Looking sad, Miri shook her head. “I never even noticed the grime. All I see is the memory. Thank you, Jessie. That's a grand suggestion.”

“Miri, the alcohol delivery's here,” one of the kitchen workers called.

Miri held up a finger. “Be right there. I'll take this one down tonight after we close if you'll bring one of yours in tomorrow morning for our weekend crowd to enjoy.”

Jessie's heart quickened. “I'll do it.”

Then Miri left Jessie alone with Logan's blue gaze lasered on her. “How did you know about the soot?”

“My dad used to be a smoker.” True, but not the whole truth. “Excuse me. I need to set up for opening.”