worry all day if she didn’t check.
Tamping down her brother’s dire warnings of kidnapping schemes, she clutched the can of pepper spray in her pocket, rounded the wall and approached the garbage container, then cautiously leaned forward to peer inside the open doors. She saw nothing but the dirty metal bottom. Relieved, she exhaled then recalled the trash trucks had been pulling out of the street when she’d arrived. She heard the noise again. It hadn’t come from the smelly green box beside the building after all but from behind the restaurant. Had one of the delivery people fallen? She bit her lip.
Should she check it out or mind her own business? She knew what Brandon would say. Not your problem. Go home. But she couldn’t walk away from someone in need.
As quietly as she could, she inched down the sidewalk past the closed kitchen door to the rear of the building. A woman sat at one of the patio tables with her hands to her face and her chin to her chest. Her short curly hair was a pale shade between blond and silver. Another sob escaped followed by hiccuped breaths.
Compassion compelled Jessamine forward even though caution urged her to retreat. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
The woman gasped and startled, twisting to face Jessamine. She swiped her eyes, revealing a face with enough wrinkles to make it interesting. She was petite and looked to be in her fifties or sixties. “I’m alive. So I guess I’m still in the game. Who are you?”
“Jess—” Had her story reached the Florida Keys? Would she be recognized and hounded here? “Jessie,” she amended, giving the nickname her college roommate had used.
“Hello, Jess—Jessie. I’m Miri. Short for Miriam. You’re new around here, aren’t you?”
Keep it simple. Then leave. “Yes. I heard you crying and wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you hurt?”
“Not physically. But I’ve seen better days. Would you like to join me or are you in a hurry to get to work?”
She should lie and leave. But the thought of going back to the empty house, as nice as it might be, didn’t appeal. “Um...not really.”
“Then pull up a chair. I’ll get you some coffee. My private stash. Good stuff. I don’t share it with just anyone.”
Jessamine searched for the words to politely refuse.
“Please, 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
