The Chance. Робин Карр

were both doctors. Her grandfathers on both sides were doctors. She had two cousins who were doctors. Successful men and women, all. Laine wasn’t the first Carrington or Wescott to choose another profession, but Dr. Paxton Carrington Sr. was appalled when she changed her major from premed to criminal justice. “Believe me, you don’t want to live in a blue-collar world,” he had said. Blue-collar world? It was almost impossible to get into the FBI without an advanced degree.

      Laine’s mother had said, “You must find work you feel passionate about. The most important thing in life is finding what gets you up in the morning, what you would do for free, the thing that makes your heart beat. I’m not a doctor because my father was a doctor. And I’m damn sure not a doctor because my husband is one. And I could care less what my children choose to do. Well, if you choose to be homeless drug addicts, I might have an issue....”

      “But aren’t you more proud of Pax? A premed honor student?” Laine had asked.

      “I look at what’s ahead for you, Laine, and I find it all so exciting, I wish I could live in your skin for just one day!”

      “But Dad hates what I’m doing!”

      “Does he? He probably thinks he knows what’s best for you, but I’m here to tell you—you’re the only person who can make this choice. And it doesn’t matter what anyone else wants.”

      “But admit it, Dad is more proud of Pax!” she had insisted.

      “I’m not sure about that. What I know for a fact is that Pax is acting on script. He’s doing exactly what your father expected him to do and it’s easier, more comfortable. You, my darling Laine, are a challenge for him.”

      All through college, all through her postgrad program, all through her early years at the FBI, her mother couldn’t wait for her to call, fill her in on all the edgy, interesting stuff she’d worked on or even just knew about.

      Senior had said, “What’s that girl thinking? She’s wasting her life on the underworld! The dregs of society!”

      When Laine told her father, over Christmas, that she’d been recommended for a commendation from the FBI for saving lives in the line of duty he had said, “As if a medal is going to validate you. Doctors save lives every day.”

      And she’d left Boston in an angry huff, vowing she was through with him.

      Laine missed her mother so....

      * * *

      Eric was grateful every day that he had asked Gina McCain if she’d be comfortable with him living in the small town of Thunder Point because he was in the diner where she worked almost daily. Half the time her husband was also there. Eric and Gina went way back. High school for her, though he had been a dropout. Their relationship had been brief but to both of them, very memorable.

      Eric bought the local service station in October, had spent two months expanding and updating, and for all that time right up to the present he’d been living in the local motel—the Coastline Inn. It wasn’t much, but it was clean and cheap. There was free coffee in the early morning but no restaurant. Only the diner and McDonald’s served breakfast, unless he felt like going all the way across the beach to Cooper’s place. Since he had no time to look for a house or the energy to fix up both a business and a residence, he bought himself a small dormitory-sized refrigerator and a toaster and settled into the motel. He’d walk down to the motel office early in the morning, grab a large coffee and a newspaper, then head to the station. At lunchtime he’d head to the deli or diner for more satisfying food. He wasn’t much for fast food, something he was stuck with more than he liked. Many busy nights he and his employees made do on burgers or pizza.

      He walked into the diner and saw the new girl in town sitting at the counter in front of Gina. She appeared to be finished with breakfast; she looked at him and smiled.

      “Hey, Mr. Scratch-and-Dent, just the man I wanted to see!” she said.

      “Well now, I don’t get that kind of welcome everywhere I go,” he said.

      “I heard you have a great reputation for cosmetic work but I was wondering, how are you under the hood?”

      He raised his eyebrows. It was a great double entendre. He sat down and a cup of coffee instantly appeared. “I was a mechanic before I was a body man,” he said, smiling a small smile.

      Laine laughed at his wordplay. “I have a little work that needs to be done,” she said. “Can I make an appointment?”

      “You don’t need an appointment. Is the car drivable?”

      “Yep. But I just drove it across the country from Virginia and it needs an oil change and everything checked.” She shrugged. “I’m sure she’s very tired. Maybe sore.”

      He grinned at that. Only a collector of classics could appreciate an owner who had given her car a gender and possibly a name. “Do you live in the neighborhood?”

      She laughed. “Look around, Eric. Everyone lives in the neighborhood.”

      So, she remembered his name. Or, maybe Gina had told her. “Right. Then just bring it by when you won’t need it for a few hours and I’ll get right to it.” To Gina he said, “Can you ask Stu to mess up three eggs with some green chilies and cheddar?”

      “You got it. Side of beans?”

      “Pass. Toast, please. And are there any home fries back there that Stu hasn’t burned yet?”

      “Tell you what, because it’s you, I’ll flip ’em over on the grill a couple of times. God knows if he gets his hands on ’em, they’ll be charred.”

      “You are a queen,” he said.

      When Gina took Laine’s empty plate and turned to leave, Laine asked Eric, “You’re here every day?”

      He shook his head. “Almost, though. If not for Gina, I’d live on coffee and Pop-Tarts.”

      “Is that so?”

      “I’m new in town, too. I bought the service station and there was so much to do there, opening it under a new banner after a remodel, I’ve been staying in the Coastline, which makes the Motel 6 look like a five-star luxury resort. One of these days I have to get serious about a house or apartment. It’s so easy, though. And I like walking to work.”

      “A car man who likes to walk...”

      “I have plenty of other places to drive. Even though we’re operating at full speed, I’m still busy upgrading the station. The previous owner didn’t do any body work, and that takes space. I have a pretty large classic-car clientele.” He took a sip of coffee. “What do you do, Laine?”

      “Shoulder exercises,” she said. “I had shoulder surgery about three months ago and it’s a lot better, but I’m not there yet. I decided to take a leave from work and try a new landscape.”

      “So you don’t work at all?”

      “I’m set up to do computer work, but I’m avoiding it. I just did research—you know, boring stuff. Data, statistics, background checks, tax records, that kind of stuff...”

      “For a big company?” he asked.

      “Yeah, the biggest company. The Feds.” Then she grinned at him.

      “That sounds really...boring.”

      She laughed. “I know. I’m sadly good at it. But if anyone from my old department calls me and asks for a hand, they have to clock me in, pay me in comp time. I did a little math—I think I can turn a few months of rehab and vacation into a year off with a view just by doing a little off-site work from home.”

      “I dated a woman a while ago who created and managed websites and she hardly ever left the computer....”

      “I’m not that girl, I can tell you that. I have no trouble walking away from the computer. And leaving the headquarters meant no more traveling