Chance of a Lifetime
Page 1
PRAISE FOR
JUST DOWN THE ROAD
“A welcome return packed with cameos from familiar characters.”
—Publishers Weekly
“This book is like once again visiting old friends while making new ones and will leave readers eager for the next visit. A pure joy to read.”
—RT Book Reviews
“An addictive read that fills you with some strong emotions as you watch those you have come to love fight through the pitfalls of life. I love how human Ms. Thomas’s characters are.”
—Smexy Books
THE COMFORTS OF HOME
“Even for readers new to the series, the intricate relationships between these affable men and eccentric women are easy to follow and even easier to love. Thomas skillfully juggles the many subplots, and the relationship between Ronelle and Marty, which inspires both to trust again, is especially touching.”
—Publishers Weekly
“There’s always something brewing in Harmony and each story just adds to the richness of depth of the characters and town. If you haven’t had a chance to meet the fine folks of Harmony, Texas, what are you waiting for?”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
“If you’re a fan of small-town settings, heartwarming tales, and out-of-the-ordinary characters, you don’t want to miss this book.”
—Petit Fours and Hot Tamales
SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY
“A delightful story with as much love and warmth as there is terror and fear…This is terrific reading from page one to the end. Jodi Thomas is a passionate writer who puts real feeling into her characters.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Thomas once again brings to life this fascinating little Texas town and its numerous characters. The reader is expertly drawn into their lives and left eager to know what happens next.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Thomas continues her contemporary small-town saga with a large helping of suspense, vibrant (if eccentric) characters, and Texas humor to spice it up.”
—Booklist
WELCOME TO HARMONY
“The characters are delightful, and a subplot about mysterious fires balances the sweet stories about being and becoming family.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A fast-moving, engaging tale that keeps you turning pages…Thomas’s characters become as familiar as family or friends.”
—Fresh Fiction
“A heartwarming tale, with plenty of excitement, Welcome to Harmony is Jodi Thomas all the way—super characters, lots of riveting subplots, and the background of a realistic Texas town. Don’t miss this terrific novel.”
—Romance Reviews Today
ADDITIONAL PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF JODI THOMAS
“Compelling and beautifully written, it is exactly the kind of heart-wrenching, emotional story one has come to expect from Jodi Thomas.”
—Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“Jodi Thomas is a masterful storyteller. She grabs your attention on the first page, captures your heart, and then makes you sad when it is time to bid her wonderful characters farewell. You can count on Jodi Thomas to give you a satisfying and memorable read.”
—Catherine Anderson, New York Times bestselling author
Titles by Jodi Thomas
CHANCE OF A LIFETIME
JUST DOWN THE ROAD
THE COMFORTS OF HOME
SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY
WELCOME TO HARMONY
REWRITING MONDAY
TWISTED CREEK
***
WILD TEXAS ROSE
TEXAS BLUE
THE LONE TEXAN
TALL, DARK, AND TEXAN
TEXAS PRINCESS
TEXAS RAIN
THE TEXAN’S REWARD
A TEXAN’S LUCK
WHEN A TEXAN GAMBLES
THE TEXAN’S WAGER
TO WED IN TEXAS
TO KISS A TEXAN
THE TENDER TEXAN
PRAIRIE SONG
THE TEXAN AND THE LADY
TO TAME A TEXAN’S HEART
FOREVER IN TEXAS
TEXAS LOVE SONG
TWO TEXAS HEARTS
THE TEXAN’S TOUCH
TWILIGHT IN TEXAS
THE TEXAN’S DREAM
Specials
IN A HEARTBEAT
A HUSBAND FOR HOLLY
Chance of
a Lifetime
JODI THOMAS
BERKLEY BOOKS, NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
CHANCE OF A LIFETIME
A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with the author
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley mass-market edition / January 2013
Copyright © 2013 by Jodi Koumalats.
Cover art by Jim Griffin. Handlettering by Ron Zinn.
Cover design by George Long.
Interior text design by Kristin del Rosario.
All rights reserved.
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For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ISBN: 978-1-101-61827-1
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If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
ALWAYS LEARNING PEARSON
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
> Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 1
FEBRUARY 3, 2012
HARMONY COUNTY LIBRARY
HUNDRED-YEAR-OLD ELMS CAST SPIDERWEB SHADOWS FROM a dry creek bed to the brick corners of Harmony County Library as Emily Tomlinson closed the blinds over the back window of her office. Night was coming. Time for her to move to the front desk. Grabbing the black sweater, which always hung on a hook beside her desk, she pulled it over her plain cotton blouse and charcoal trousers.
From now until closing, she’d feel wind blow in every time the library doors opened. It would stir her curly brown hair and scatter papers across the main desk, but she didn’t mind. Emily loved every hour of her time at work, even the last one on Friday night. Her short curls could take the wind and she welcomed everyone who dropped by.
Before she could settle, winter’s frosty breath reached her. For once, she didn’t look up. Though she wondered who might be coming in just before closing, she didn’t want to see the night beyond the doors. She might be in her early thirties, but the child in her still feared that the night just might look back.
Sam Perkins leaned on his broom and whispered, “You didn’t make it out before dark, Miss Tomlinson. You want me to walk you to your car when you lock up? Ain’t no other staff here tonight and that wind is liable to carry a slim little thing like you away.”
The janitor’s voice sounded rusty in daylight, but at night it turned haunting. Sam Perkins had missed his calling as a narrator for ghost tales on a midnight radio show.
Emily didn’t like the possibility that everyone who worked in the Harmony County Library knew of her fears, even the janitor. “No, I’ll be fine. Who just came in? I was too busy to notice.”
Sam shrugged. “Some guy in muddy boots and a cowboy hat worn low.”
Emily laughed. “That describes half the men in this town.”
The janitor moved on, having used up his ration of conversation for the evening. He wasn’t friendly, smelled of cigars most of the time, and had never read a single book as far as she knew, but he was the best janitor / handyman they’d had in the ten years since she’d accepted the post of head librarian. The others had been drifters or drunks, staying only long enough to collect a few weeks’ wages to move on, but Sam never missed a day’s work.
Emily closed her log and locked the cash drawer for the night. She had a pretty good idea who the cowboy with dirty boots was—he’d come in on Fridays for as long as she could remember. Most of the time he didn’t say a word to anyone but her.
Walking around the worn mahogany desk, she crossed to the beautiful old curved staircase that climbed the north wall. Cradled beneath the arch of the stairs were all the new magazines and day-old newspapers from big towns across the state.
Emily had bought comfortable leather chairs from an estate sale so the area looked inviting, even though few visited. Most days, the wall of computers drew all the attention.
Sure enough, Tannon Parker was there. His big frame filled the chair and his long legs blocked half the walk space. His worn gray Stetson was pushed back atop black hair in need of cutting.
“Evening, Tannon,” Emily said with a grin. “How’s your mother?”
“About the same,” he said as he looked up slowly. “She didn’t know me. She called me by my dad’s name tonight.”
For a second, she remembered him as a little boy and not the man before her. He’d been quite like her, an only child with a love for books since birth. The boy she knew seemed a long way from the powerful man before her. He ran a successful business and some say breathed work.
Emily didn’t see that man now. He might be a tall man in his prime, but he seemed to carry the weight of the world tonight. She was tempted to reach out and touch his shoulder in comfort.
But she couldn’t touch him. They weren’t friends anymore—not the way they’d once been. She’d known him all her life, could name every member of his family, but one mistake one night had passed between them years ago and neither knew how to build a bridge over it. He’d told her he would be there and he hadn’t been. She’d said she would wait and she didn’t.
“I’m sorry,” Emily managed to whisper, “about your mom. I’ll never forget those great cookies she used to make.” A memory of fifteen years past drifted back to her. She and Tannon had both been juniors on the high school newspaper staff. The night before the paper came out everyone always worked late. Tannon’s mother would tap on the school window and hold up a tray of cookies. Kids knocked each other down to open the door for her.
“Yeah.” Tannon looked toward the front desk as if he didn’t know what else to say.
Or maybe he was remembering something else neither would ever forget. A memory that had more to do with pain and blood than cookies.
She straightened, feeling a little like she’d been dismissed. “We’ll be closing in twenty minutes. I’ll let you know when I have to lock up.”
She moved away and began collecting books left scattered on tables. When she climbed the stairs to where walls in a once huge old home had been removed to allow for long aisles of books, she saw a shadow leaning against the corner window.
“Franky, you still here?”
A girl’s giggle reached her before a boy of about fifteen stepped out tugging his partner-in-crime by the hand. “Is my dad here for me?” the kid asked.
Emily noticed the girl had pink lipstick smeared across her mouth. She was staring at Franky like he was a rock star.
“If you two want to check out anything, you need to hurry.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Franky winked at the girl. “We’ve already checked out.”
The girl giggled and ran down the stairs, joining her friends who were clustered around one of the computers. When she was too far away to hear, Emily whispered to Franky, “How long until you get a car?”
“Fourteen more months,” he said with a grin. “I can’t wait.”
“Me neither.” She laughed. “Did you get your homework done?”
“It’s Friday, Miss Tomlinson. No one ever does homework on Friday. What if the end of the world came or something and you’d wasted your last few hours doing math or English. Monday morning I could be out fighting zombies or aliens for the last food on the planet and I’d be thinking, Great! At least I got my homework done.”
Emily saw his logic. “I hadn’t considered that,” she said as she walked with him down the stairs.
“Don’t people like you worry about that kind of stuff?”
“People like me?”
“You know, older people.” Franky shook his shaggy hair. “You should. Tomorrow you could just open your front door and find yourself in a fight for your life.” He looked around. “Come to think of it, nobody would probably come in here. No food or weapons or medicine. That’s w
hat we’ll all be fighting over when the end comes.”
She played along. To the boy, she must seem as old as this building. “Zombies don’t read?”
He shook his head as if she was beyond dumb. “Miss Tomlinson, I fear you’re a goner. Zombies don’t do nothing but run around looking for live people to eat. They’ll rip your arm off, beat you to death, and then have you for dinner. Maybe you should think about getting a gun or a man to protect you.”
When they reached the desk, she handed him a book on the life and works of Hemingway. “Thanks for the advice, Franky. Here’s a book that might help with that English assignment that’s due Monday. Just in case the world doesn’t end.”
He looked at her with raised eyebrows. “How’d you know about that?”
Emily winked. “A zombie told me.”
Before he could ask more, a horn honked and he darted for the door. “Thanks,” he yelled back. “That’s my dad.”
The girls over by the computer wall all giggled and waved at him. Then, like a gaggle of geese, they all hurried out.
The library was suddenly silent. Emily began turning off the computers and closing doors. It had been a long twelve-hour day, but she had nowhere else to be. Friday nights were like every night for her. She’d go home, eat supper, and read until ten, and then, as if the clock lost all time, she’d open a spiral notebook she kept hidden away and write a few lines. In her mind, scenes would come to her like blinks of lightning in a dark sky. Not a book. Not even a story. But short little plays covering sometimes only moments.
People would be surprised, maybe even shocked, to know her secret hobby, but certain moments had changed her life in the real world, and now she collected fictional ones to piece together for her dreams.
As she tugged on her coat and reached for her keys, she noticed Tannon Parker waiting.
He held the door for her and she thanked him as he checked to make sure the lock clicked solid. She thought of walking on to her car but waited. He might not be much for company, but Tannon was steady and safe. Whatever waited in the darkness wouldn’t appear if he was beside her.
For once, he broke the silence. “The zombies wouldn’t come after you if the end came like the kid said. They’d go straight to the bakery across the street. The Edison sisters would keep them in food for weeks. Last month I heard they had to move the counter out a foot because the sisters could no longer get behind it to wait on customers.”