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“I can imagine. Is that how you got into the security business?”
“Yeah. We had a client who was a little too zealous in wanting the goods on his ex-wife. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, so we dropped the client but he didn’t drop the harassment. I didn’t like the guy at all—he was scum, and since we initiated the contact, I offered protection for the ex-wife on the side. I installed a state-of-the-art security system for her and bodyguard services. She had a restraining order on him and we caught him breaking and entering at her house, so he went to jail.”
“A good day’s work for you, I’d say.”
“Yeah. I felt bad about that case, and my boss at the P.I. firm kept taking clients on like that because money was money to him, so I left him and started my own company. I’m a little more selective about the clients I take on. I do more thorough background checks.”
She leaned back and swirled her wine around in the glass. He liked the way she looked at him. When a woman looked at you like that, it made you glad to be a man. Too bad this was an assignment.
“So tell me about your life, Elena Madison.”
She shrugged. “Not much to tell other than what you’ve already seen. I own my shop and run it. It pretty much consumes most of my days. We’re open Tuesday through Saturday. And when we’re not open, I’m usually out shopping for new inventory by meeting with artists, or doing paperwork. My life isn’t exciting.”
“I don’t know about that. You love what you do, and that’s always exciting. So how did you get into the business?”
“I like art. Always have. Especially unique pieces that reflect the area, like sand, water, air. It calls to me.”
“Understandable. Family?”
“Just my mother.”
“Does she live nearby?”
She smiled over the rim of her wineglass. “She comes and goes as she pleases.”
He cocked a brow. “Not sure what you mean by that.”
“My mother is what you’d call a free spirit. She’s not really grounded in reality or things like a permanent job or a home. She chooses to eschew the establishment and go her own way.”
“Oh, so she’s a hippie.”
She choked out a laugh. “Yes, I guess you could say that. She’s a holdover from days gone by.”
He held out his water glass in salute. “Good for your mom.”
“You wouldn’t say that if it was your mother. You didn’t have to be raised by her.”
“Was it hard for you?”
She shrugged, but he could tell it bothered her. “Sometimes. When there were events in school that required parental attendance, my mother would be off painting, or she was chasing a band, or an art show, or she’d forgotten because she was at the beach engrossed in the sunset and had to get the colors just right for the latest sculpture. And sometimes she’d go off for weeks at a time and I wouldn’t know where.”
He frowned. “She didn’t leave you alone when you were a kid, did she?”
“No. She had lots of friends and she left me with them. I was well taken care of. There was just no . . . stability.”
“I’m sorry.”
She lifted her gaze to him and smiled. “Don’t be. I survived it just fine.”
He reached across the table for her hand, covered it with his. “Yes, you did, but it still couldn’t have been easy for you.”
Elena looked down at Jed’s hand covering hers. “No, it wasn’t easy. At times I resented her for it.”
“I would have, too. What about your dad?”
“He took off when I was a baby, and they divorced. He was in a band, wanted to work on his career, didn’t much want to be saddled with a wife and kid. Mom got full custody, he signed off on it, and that was that.”
“So you don’t know him? He’s never come back and tried to find you or get in touch with you?”
