The Lottery Winner. Emilie Rose

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