To her relief, the check-in counter wasn’t overcrowded. Only a short line remained, and Julia exhaled a shaky breath. Maybe luck was finally on her side.
When it was her turn to step forward, disaster struck. Her purse strap slipped off her shoulder, and the contents of her bag—wallet, medical papers, stethoscope, a small notebook, loose change—spilled across the glossy airport floor. Julia crouched quickly, scrambling to gather her things, her cheeks burning at the inconvenience of it all.
At that very moment, a man and woman swept up to the counter.
“I’ll take two tickets to Santa Monica. Now, please,” the man demanded.
