Prologue
WHEN THE PHONE rang, Rachel Keats was painting sea otters. She was working in
oils and had finally gotten the right mix of black for the eyes. There was no
way she was stopping to pick up the phone. She had warned Samantha about that.
"Hi! You've reached Rachel, Samantha, and Hope. We're otherwise occupied. Please
leave your name and number, and we'll call you back. Thanks."
Through a series of beeps, she applied a smudge of oil with a round brush. Then
came a deep male voice that was too old to be calling for Samantha. Rachel would
have pictured a gorgeous guy to go with the voice, but he'd said his name too
fast. This man wasn't gorgeous. He was a ticket agent, a friend of a friend,
more sleeze than style, but apparently good at his job. "I have in my hand three
tickets for tonight's Garth Brooks concert," he said. "San Jose. Goooood seats.
I need to hear from you in five minutes or I'm moving down my list --"
Rachel made a lunging grab for the phone. "I want them!"
"Heeeey, Rachel. How's my favorite artist?"
"Painting. You need a credit card number, right? Hold on a second." She put the
phone down, ran through the house to the kitchen, and snatched up her wallet.
... read full excerpt from Coast Road: A Novel ebook
