by Robyn Carr
But Laine could only think of one thing. “Let’s go take a look at that kitchen, see what the owners left for me to use until my stuff comes. The moving truck is on the way—should be here in a day or two.”
“Okay,” Ray Anne said, “but there are plenty of places in town where you can get a bite to eat until you get settled.”
Laine was already on her way to the kitchen and when she got there, she started opening cupboard doors. She found plates, a few pots, a frying pan, utensils, some kitchen linens, just the bare essentials, designed for a vacation rental. But that was all right. She closed the last cupboard door, turned and smiled at Ray Anne and Devon. “I’m good,” she said. “If you could just give me directions to the nearest grocery, I’m going to light the fire and make soup. It looks like a soup day to me.”
* * *
Eric Gentry sat at the counter in the diner having a late breakfast. Next to him was Cooper from the beach bar, doing the same. Then the sheriff’s deputy walked in. Mac pulled off his hat and took the seat beside Eric. Mac’s wife, Gina, brought him a cup of coffee. Then she leaned over the counter and collected a kiss.
“I certainly didn’t get that kind of first-class treatment,” Cooper said with a smile. “And I ordered a whole meal.”
“Yeah, buddy, the day I hear about you getting treatment like that is the day you start walking with a limp.”
Eric chuckled, but he’d never make such a remark. He and Gina had history. And he liked walking straight.
“Mac,” Gina chided with a laugh in her voice.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Mac asked Cooper. “Get sick of Rawley’s cooking out at the bar?”
“Rawley doesn’t cook,” Cooper said. “Sometimes he warms things, but that’s just sometimes.”
“Sarah says he’s a good cook,” Gina pointed out.
“Oh, he cooks for Sarah,” Cooper said of his wife. “When she wanders into the kitchen he asks her right away what she’d like. Now that she’s packin’, Rawley takes real good care of her.”
“Packin’?” Eric asked.
“Pregnant,” three people answered in unison.
“I see,” he said, sitting back and wiping his mouth on the napkin.
“Business must be good,” Mac said to Eric. “I saw a dually pulling a trailer through town, an old Plymouth on the trailer.”
“A 1970 Superbird,” Eric told him. “It’s in for a rebuilt engine, new bench seat and a refurbished dash. I think we’re going to have to refresh that roof, too. It’s the original vinyl and not going to be easy.”
“Bench seat? Not buckets?”
Eric shook his head. “Not in the Superbird. I guess if you drove one of those you got girls and if you got girls, you wanted them sitting right next to you.”
“Where’d it come from?” Mac asked.
“Southern California.”
“Someone would bring an old car up from Southern California?”
Eric sipped his coffee. “It’s a two-hundred-thousand-dollar classic. The owner would bring it across six states for the right work. I’ve done a lot of work for him. He owns twenty cars. I think it’s most of his estate. He likes to do a lot of the restoration work himself and he does a great job. He doesn’t have the equipment for replacing an engine block and the car is his baby.”
“His baby?” Gina asked.
“He kisses it before he goes to bed every night. He probably treats the car better than he treats his wife.”
“Boys and their toys,” Gina said.
“You’re putting us on the map,” Mac said. “Imagine—that car is worth more than this diner.”
Eric noticed a couple of young women walking across the street from the clinic. One he knew to be Devon, the doctor’s office manager—he’d met her a couple of months ago and had seen her around. The other one he didn’t recognize. She was wearing a ball cap low over her forehead and fitted yoga pants, a jacket and running shoes. Her blond hair was strung through the back of her cap, noticeable when she turned to laugh at something Devon said.
When they walked into the diner Gina beamed a happy grin and said, “Hey!”
“What’s this?” Devon asked. “Grumpy old men’s club?”
“I beg your pardon,” Cooper replied. “I’m not old.”
“He’s older than me,” Mac said.
Eric said nothing. His eyes were busy with the new girl and when something like that happened it tended to tie up his tongue.
“Laine, you know Cooper and Mac, but have you met Eric? Eric owns the service station and body shop at the end of the street. Eric, this is my friend, Laine Carrington. She’s new in town.”
Eric found himself on his feet. “Nice to meet you.”
“And you,” she replied. “Please, sit. We’re just going to grab a cup of coffee.” She looked at Gina. “You due for a break?”
“I am,” she said. “I’ll bring the coffee.”
As Devon and Laine headed toward the back of the diner to a booth, Eric followed them with his eyes. Then he guiltily returned his eyes to his coffee cup, grateful to note that Cooper and Mac were discussing how much money was too much to spend on a car. A two-hundred-thousand-dollar Superbird didn’t even enter the conversation.
Eric had a couple of classics, cars he’d restored himself. He’d salvaged them and had planned to restore and sell them, then he got attached. It happened. There were dealers and then there were collectors. Then there were guys like him who were looking to make a few bucks and turned into collectors.
He talked with his friends for a while longer, forcefully keeping his eyes from wandering to that back booth, until finally Mac stood and left the waitress a tip, making the men laugh. Cooper left a ten on the counter for his seven-dollar breakfast.
But Eric walked to the back booth. “Gina, I’m going to need some change. You’re good, but not that good.”
“I’d argue with that, but it will be quicker to get your change.” She snatched the twenty out of his hand and headed for the register.
“Nice meeting you, Laine. If you ever need any dents popped or rough edges smoothed out, I’m your guy,” he said. When he saw Laine and Devon looking at him with wide eyes, he winced. But the women laughed.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.
Copyright © 2014 by Robyn Carr
ISBN-13: 9781460334539
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Copyright © 2014 by Robyn Carr
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