Page 3 of One Southern Summer

“They have complimentary coffee, sweet tea or sparkling water. What’s not to love?”

Without waiting for a response, Maribelle started toward the ladies’ room. They’d been meeting for drinks and dessert—or salad if you were dull and boring like Lucille—after book club at The Flowering Vine for over a decade. By now the management should’ve figured out that a group of older women didn’t need to sit so far from the restroom. Didn’t they know how their lives revolved around frequent and unfettered access to the facilities?

And the table placement. So cramped. Now she had to focus on navigating through the narrow gaps, while waving and smiling to folks she’d known for three-quarters of a century. No doubt a few wanted to bend her ear, but she couldn’t be bothered given the circumstances. Her incident back at the table left her a little flustered. She needed to focus on her footing. Who knew when some irresponsible patron might bobble into one’s path, or an unsightly spill no one had bothered to tend to might cause her to slip?

Then her gaze landed on Cole Whitaker and she quickly forgot her list of the restaurant’s offenses. The handsome nonprofit director of Imari’s Place sat near the windows at a table for two, staring at his phone. Perhaps she’d delay her visit to the ladies’ room.

“Hey, Mr. Cole.” She gripped the edge of his table and offered a sweet smile. Poor thing. Dining alone.

“Hello, Mrs. Lansing. How are you?”

“I’m well, hope you are.” Maribelle gestured to the empty seat across from him. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Well, I’m expecting—”

“This will only take a minute.” She sank into the hard spindle-backed chair and folded her hands on the worn wooden table. “I guess you heard my granddaughter Avery is moving back to Camellia.”

“Is that right?” Cole set his phone facedown beside his napkin-wrapped silverware. “I hadn’t heard. Avery and I don’t keep in touch.”

“Oh, what a shame. You two were thick as thieves back in the day.”

Cole hesitated. “That was a long time ago, Mrs. Lansing.”

“Well, it’s never too late to rekindle an old friendship.” Maribelle studied him, certain that regret had flashed in his eyes when she’d mentioned Avery. She’d leave out the extraneous details. Avery’s husband had left her with two little ones, forcing her to sell that gorgeous house in Raleigh and move back home. Cole would hear it all soon enough. News that juicy spread like the plague.

“I’m sure Avery will be busy getting situated.”

Huh. That polite, stiff smile wasn’t the response she’d hoped for.

“Please tell her I said hello.” His phone buzzed on the table, and he reached for it. “It’s lovely to see you again, Mrs. Lansing. Excuse me.”

Maribelle pushed to her feet. “I’ll make sure my daughter-in-law invites you out to the house real soon.”

Cole nodded then pressed his phone to his ear.

Maribelle frowned and resumed her journey to the restroom. That hadn’t gone as well as she’d envisioned. Maybe he was having a stressful day. She’d regroup and visit him again soon. Ever since her good-for-nothing son abandoned his family all those years ago, she’d gone out of her way to look out for her daughter-in-law, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Avery’s life might be a wreck now, but she’d find a way forward. Maribelle was just giving her a little boost. It’s what any thoughtful grandmother would do.

She shouldn’t be here.

Avery tapped her brakes and eased her SUV and trailer to a complete stop as the traffic light in Camellia, Alabama, blinked from yellow to red. The muffled sound of live music caught her attention and she lowered her window. Blooming crepe myrtle trees and old-fashioned black lampposts with glowing lights formed a protective canopy over the downtown sidewalks. A crowd of people fanned out from the stage near the roundabout, enjoying the concert. The warm evening breeze filtered into her car and she inhaled deeply, thankful for a respite from the stale aroma leftover from their fast-food lunch and Hayes’s recent diaper change.

This might be her hometown, but she had never intended to return. Parts of her childhood had been idyllic. Fishing in the pond, catching fireflies and roaming the neighborhood on their bikes for hours. But after Daddy left, it had meant frequent visits to the food pantry and wearing someone else’s jeans she’d bought at the thrift store. When she’d married Pax, she’d finally been set free from the hole her father’s absence had carved out of her heart. And the longer she’d lived in Raleigh, the more her accomplishments had granted her a false sense of security.

Together, she and Pax had curated a lifestyle more glorious than she could’ve imagined as a young girl living in a small Central Alabama town. Sure, she’d visited a few times over the years. But a tiny part of her had always been relieved when she could bid Mama and her sisters goodbye and get back to Raleigh. Camellia represented the lonely, confused teenage girl who ached to escape her abandonment issues. Now here she was, wounded and humiliated, tugging all her possessions along with her kids back home to Mama.

Feeling abandoned all over again.

The light turned green and she hesitated, giving the familiar surroundings another sweeping glance. The same brick buildings flanked Main Street, although the names of the stores had probably changed. Folks in Camellia knew how to weather hardship. After the steel, textile and manufacturing industries all faded away and left families destitute, Camellia had rallied once again. Now this was a family-friendly city known for great schools and stable jobs.

Maybe she’d learn a thing or two about reinvention while she was visiting. Because that’s all this was. A visit. At least that’s what she kept telling herself and her daughter every time Addison asked how long they’d stay in Alabama.

Avery tapped her thumbs against the steering wheel as the theatre where she’d begun her reign as Miss Camellia flashed by her vehicle. She’d advanced to the state beauty pageant in Birmingham where she’d won Miss Congeniality. Hard to believe that was fifteen years ago. She could only imagine what the town gossips were saying about her now.

Camellia’s residents loved a second chance redemptive story, but they also loved drama. The kind of salacious stories that only grew the longer they circulated. Avery shivered involuntarily and rolled up her window. She didn’t want to be the topic of discussion at book clubs, church committee meetings and supper tables. Her ex-husband had cheated on her and dragged their family through the mud, but she desperately hoped all that was behind her now.

A few minutes later, she obeyed her GPS instructions and turned onto a road with a gated entrance. She punched in the PIN her sister Harper had texted her, waited for the black wrought iron gates to swing open then pulled into her mother’s circular driveway. Mama had told her that she and her new husband had bought a lake house with enough room for Avery and her kids to stay for a while. She’d failed to mention the gorgeous white craftsman-style home deserved to be on the cover of the South’s most popular magazine. Ferns hung symmetrically on either side of the porch and the freshly mowed grass framed a flagstone path. A wreath adorned the candy-red door and potted flowers lined either side of the wide steps.

“Wow,” Avery whispered. Quite the upgrade from the cramped two-bedroom rambler in Camellia where Mama had raised Avery and her two sisters alone after Daddy left. The setting sun spilled orange and crimson streaks across the cloudless blue sky. Through the trees in her mother’s yard, she glimpsed the lake. Wooden docks jutted out like long fingers, and she recognized the familiar silhouettes of boats bobbing in the water.

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