Page 42 of One Southern Summer

She got quiet then cast another furtive glance behind him. “I’ve got to go. Let me think about it and I’ll let you know. Are we still meeting next Friday?”

“Absolutely. Let’s meet at the job site. I’ll have the project manager stop by and we can chat. Make sure we’re all on the same page about next steps.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks for your time.”

“Of course. Want me to walk out with you? I’ve got to get back to my office.”

Her nervous glance toward the shop’s counter confirmed he was wise to offer.

“Please do.”

They stood and pushed their chairs in. He collected their cups and tossed them in the trash nearby. Pastor Crawford stepped into his path as he pivoted toward the door. “Cole Whitaker? Is that you?”

Cole forced his mouth into a smile. “Pastor Crawford.”

For a man whose arrival created quite a stir, he was rather small. Cole towered over him. Pastor Crawford rubbed his hand over his bald head. His leathery tan skin crinkled as he offered an artificial smile. “I’d forgotten you and Avery were so close.”

“Pardon?”

Pastor Crawford brushed past him without responding. Cole turned to see Avery’s reaction. “Hello, Dalton.”

Cole sensed the weight of customers’ curious stares. Poor Avery. Irritation burned in his chest. It was unfortunate that she had to run into the Crawfords in a busy coffee shop.

“Whitney mentioned you were back in town.” Pastor Crawford folded Avery into a hug. Her polite smile quickly faded, replaced by a pinched expression. She looked like she’d rather encounter a snake than hug this man. Cole jammed his hands in his pockets, powerless to intervene.

“Yes, the kids and I are visiting my family.” Avery pulled back and swung her purse strap over her shoulder. “I need to run. My sister is watching them and Hayes will need to be fed soon.”

“Oh, I’m looking forward to seeing those rascals. Bring them on by sometime.” Pastor Crawford’s voice echoed off the walls. Undoubtedly he wanted the whole place to know what a doting grandfather he was.

Cole glanced at Whitney, still speaking with a woman near the end of the coffee bar.

Avery hesitated. “I’ll have to check my calendar then touch base with Whitney. Let’s talk soon.”

“You know where to find us.” Pastor Crawford’s gray eyes swiveled to Cole. Something undecipherable flickered across his features.

Cole gave a brief nod. “Have a good day, sir.”

Avery strode toward the door like the place was on fire. Thankfully, Whitney continued her conversation and didn’t glance in their direction. Cole recognized a couple of friends he played tennis with sitting by the door and offered a quick wave.

Avery strode outside, her chin held high. The midday sun greeted them like they’d stepped into a furnace.

“That was dicey,” he said, once the door swung shut behind them.

“Sure was. Thanks for sticking with me. That’s the first time I’ve seen him since, well, since I was still married to Pax.” She offered a quick wave before she turned toward her vehicle parked down the street. “See you Friday.”

“Yeah, see you Friday.” He walked back to his office, guilt weighing him down. Had he handled that well? Was he supposed to run interference between Avery and the Crawfords? To an outsider, that was probably a harmless interaction. But the unspoken words and the tension hovering in the air had been impossible to ignore.

She hadn’t said no about the documentary. She hadn’t said yes, either. He was glad he hadn’t mentioned anything about Maribelle’s donation. He could see little hints that Avery was healing. Like a cherry tree about to blossom in the spring, she was slowly stepping forward out of the aftermath of her divorce. So maybe he was being selfish, but he could live with that if it meant partnering with Avery to achieve a common goal. Because that’s all this was about. Nothing more.

If there was one thing she lived for it was Sunday lunch with her people. Maribelle settled on the sofa and heaved a contented sigh.

Harper smiled at her. “Feeling good, Nana? Are you ready for a nap?”

“By golly, I believe so.” Maribelle smoothed her hand over the sofa’s white linen fabric. Greer sat in the recliner, newspaper on his lap and remote in hand. He’d put a baseball game on the television. Maribelle loathed baseball. Not enough action and the games dragged on for hours. She could hardly complain, though. The man had been good to her and her family.

Addison’s protests filtered down the hallway as her grandmother coerced her into getting ready for a nap with the promise of reading three stories instead of two. Julene stood by the window with Hayes nestled in her arms. She swayed gently back and forth. Maribelle made a mental note to put finding a husband for that girl on her to-do list. She was young, and she’d make an excellent mother. How had the single men of Camellia not noticed her?

Unless they had come calling and Maribelle hadn’t been informed. That did not sit well. She shifted, trying desperately to stay awake. Now was the perfect time to glean important details about what these women were up to. If she fell asleep, she’d miss everything.

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