The Lottery Winner. Emilie Rose

Jessie. Today’s the anniversary of my husband’s death. I’m feeling sorry for myself. I need better company than my own right now.”

      That made two of them sick of their own company. Empathy twined through Jessamine like the flowering vine she’d been named after. She studied Miri’s blotchy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. How could she say no to a grieving widow? A couple of minutes wouldn’t hurt, would it? “Maybe a quick cup.”

      Miri sprang to her feet and rushed into the building, leaving Jessamine open to an ambush of second thoughts. Brandon would needle her for being a people pleaser again.

      The woman quickly returned, shouldering her way through the door carrying a coffeepot and an extra mug. “Sit. Please.”

      Hoping she wouldn’t regret her decision, Jessamine perched on the edge of the chair.

      Miri took her seat then poured the dark brew. “I’m sorry you caught me with my pants down, so to speak. You’d think I’d be used to waking up alone by now.”

      Jessamine clutched the mug rather than offer the hug she suspected the woman needed. The rich aroma teased her senses. She took a sip and let the dark brew roll down her throat. She hadn’t bothered making coffee since coming to Florida. It seemed a waste to make a whole pot for one cup. But she immediately decided that would change—starting tomorrow.

      “I’m sorry, Miri. How long has he been gone?”

      “Three years. I miss that old fart.”

      The acidic comment startled a smile from Jessamine.

      “You ever been in love, Jess—Jessie?”

      Jessamine’s smile fell. She averted her gaze. Her thumb found her bare ring finger. Yet another thing the lottery win had cost her. She would never know if a man loved her or her annuity. “I thought I was once.”

      “Then maybe you know how it is. You love ’em. You curse ’em. But Jack was mine. And now he’s not. We fought. And we loved. But we fit. Know what I mean?”

      She and Aaron had never disagreed on anything until he’d asked her to choose between him and her family. Not something she wanted to contemplate right now. She gulped coffee and scalded her tongue. “How long were you together?”

      “Thirty-five years. Sounds like forever, and yet it passed in the blink of an eye. We met when I came down for spring break during college. The weather was horrible, and the boats were stuck in port. He bought me a drink and asked me to dance. Lord, that man could not dance, but he’d been watching me and knew I loved to. So he tried. It wasn’t pretty,” she added with a sad smile. “By the end of that week I was in love. I didn’t want to go back to finish my senior year, but he insisted. Said if I didn’t come to my senses and still wanted to marry a fisherman after I graduated, he’d be waiting. I came back and he was.”

      Why couldn’t she find a love like that? One who put her best interests first? Dark hair blew across her face. Her heart leaped and her breath caught. She spun around to see who’d sneaked up on her, but no one was there. Then she remembered the dye job. Cursing her brother’s horror stories, she exhaled, tucked the strand behind her ear and caught Miri watching her. Jessamine wanted to squirm but reached for her coffee instead.

      “The weather brought Jack to me. And it took him away. He was struck by lightning during a freak sudden storm over the Gulf Stream. He fished, captained a charter boat service. I cooked his catch to help pay the bills when business was slow. That’s how I ended up with this place. I started with a food cart on the wharf, then moved up to this board-and-brick location twenty years ago.”

      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