Page 24 of One Southern Summer

Shiny and flustered?

“Oh, just hold still.”

“That won’t be necessary.” He held up his palm. “I’m not planning to be on the news.”

“Well, you aren’t going to be able to avoid it. The mayor called a last-minute press conference.”

“I see that.” Cole glanced toward the scene unfolding on the street behind Millie Kay. It reminded him of a similar one that played out on an episode of Avery’s show. Yes. He’d watched. More episodes than he cared to admit. She had stepped out of an SUV in front of a building that she had helped renovate, her glowing ring of curls and astounding features undoubtedly captivating the viewing audience. His thoughts hopped on the Avery carousel and spun in a delightful orbit. Too bad she wasn’t here to see this. Imagine the reactions if she’d emerged from that vehicle instead of Mayor Caldwell. Avery’s presence would make the evening news for sure. If he and the mayor had to shovel a ceremonial scoop of dirt for the media, it would be ten times more enjoyable with her around.

Dude, get a grip.He couldn’t keep thinking about her. Not like that. Thankfully, the mayor called his name. Cole took a quick sip of water then strode toward the entourage coming at him.

“Cole, it’s a pleasure to see you out here. Is this the official groundbreaking I’m hearing so much about?” Mayor Caldwell greeted him with a broad smile and a firm handshake.

“Yes, sir,” Cole said. “Thank you for stopping by.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, and you don’t have to call me sir.” He tucked his white button-down into his olive slacks. “This is a wonderful thing you’re doing.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to be here, or I would’ve extended a more formal invitation.”

Mayor Caldwell took the hard hat his assistant offered and lowered it over his ebony close-clipped hair. “No worries. The Camellia word of mouth brigade keeps me informed. Let’s do this, shall we?”

Cole shot his assistant a confused glance. Do what?

Someone had convinced the heavy equipment operator to power down for a minute. Probably Dale, who’d arrived in the midst of the controlled chaos, a cardboard tray of iced coffees in one hand and his phone to his ear.

The press pool, if they could even be called that, closed in. The steady hum of conversation grew louder. Cole turned to face them and his breath caught in his chest. Where had all these people come from? Not that he minded Imari’s Place getting the attention. And human trafficking was on more and more people’s radar lately as a pressing humanitarian issue. Still, this level of coverage for a modest groundbreaking seemed excessive. He inched toward the mayor, who’d already grabbed a shovel and started chatting with a journalist like he did this all the time.

“Cole? Perhaps you’d like to share a few words?”

His face heated. Couldn’t they just start throwing dirt around without saying anything? There had to be at least twenty people hugging the curb, their cameras and phones poised expectantly.

“I’ll get us started and you can finish up.” Mayor Caldwell grinned again then angled toward the waiting audience. “Imari’s Place is one of Alabama’s most important assets. We’re extremely proud of this organization, which has become a haven for young women worldwide who are breaking free from the scourge of modern-day slavery.”

There. The tension in Cole’s shoulders lessened a fraction, his worries soothed by the mayor’s speech. He was going to nail this. After a few more pithy, inspirational thoughts that kept the audience engaged, Cole hoped he’d have access to the video footage for future marketing opportunities.

The mayor caught his eye. “I think we have time for a few questions.”

We do?Cole rocked back on his heels. He hadn’t planned for any interaction with the media today, much less a Q and A. He located Millie Kay standing at the edge of the crowd, her phone trained on him. Well, at least she’d have the video he wanted.

“Folks, I’m sure you’re familiar with the director of the foundation, Cole Whitaker.” The mayor gestured toward the press pool with an exaggerated flourish and another wide smile, his dark eyes gleaming. “Please direct your questions his way.”

They didn’t waste any time.

“Mr. Whitaker, can you confirm that Avery Lansing Crawford is partnering on this project?”

The plastic water bottle crinkled in his grip. He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. His hesitation elicited a murmur that rippled through the crowd. When he didn’t answer the leading question, everyone moved in closer, firing questions faster than he could process.Tell us more about Miss Crawford’s role. Did you ask her or did she volunteer? Will her ex-husband be involved as well?Cole forced a smile and held up his hand in a desperate attempt to regain control of the narrative.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming today. On behalf of Imari’s Place, the board of directors, our staff and our phenomenal volunteers, I’m thrilled to officially share that due to the generous contributions of Friends of the Foundation, we can move forward with our vision to provide housing and education for even more young women seeking refuge from human trafficking.”

“Are the Lansings or the Crawfords the Friends of the Foundation you mentioned?”

So much for distracting them. He glanced down at the pavement, as if imaginary notes would somehow appear. A proverbial map to guide him out of this sticky briar patch.

“Have you specifically invited Avery or Pax Crawford or his partner, Trey, to help you?”

Cole hesitated. They obviously weren’t going to stop asking. It couldn’t hurt to mention Avery by name, could it?

“Yes, we have reached out to Avery Lansing Crawford and asked for her input.”

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