T. J., hovering near the door, stepped from behind the women. “Maggie wants to try Kathleen’s famous hot chocolate.”
A sizzle of jealousy ran through Avery at the sound of Maggie’s name on his lips, and she tried to shake it off. A few years younger than her, Maggie had been nothing but gracious in visits to the boutique and a variety of the usual Samford social occasions. She had even brought a home-cooked meal after Cres was killed—Caesar salad, chicken enchiladas, chips and hot sauce, and blackberry cobbler with vanilla ice cream.
“The cocoa takes a couple of minutes.” Avery pulled out the ingredients as she spoke. “Feel free to look around or”—she gestured to a bistro table with a vintage floral tablecloth on it and four metal chairs—“have a seat.”
“How cute,” Maggie said.
Before she could reply, Evangeline strode forward, wearing a dress Avery had never seen. “Hello, Avery,” she said in her patented society drawl. “How’s the biscuit business?”
Gripping the edge of the counter, Avery fought the urge to shove one down her throat. “Good afternoon, Evangeline. Welcome to Magnolia Market.”
Her mother-in-law looked as though she had wandered into a strip club.
“It’s darling, isn’t it?” Maggie murmured, gazing around the room. “Avery, you can transform a space better than anyone I’ve ever met. Are you still living in that cute house on Division?”
Avery lowered her gaze to her apron. “I moved in with a friend.”
Evangeline’s eyes widened, and she turned away but remained close enough to eavesdrop.
“I bet your new place is perfect,” Maggie said. “I’m in a plain, old town house. Nothing as spiffy as what you have.”
Avery visualized the daybed in Kathleen’s spare room and smiled. It was perfect.
“I’m glad you found a new place,” Maggie said. “I know you must have been lonely after Cres . . .”
Here it was again. Well-meaning words drifting off. But they didn’t bother her as much as the fact that the coffee was running low.
“I was lonely,” Avery said, “and it’s been great having someone to talk to.” She looked at her mother-in-law. “Evangeline was right. I needed a fresh start.”
Chapter 28
Avery was sitting on the couch, brushing dog hair off her skirt when Kathleen ushered Davis into the living room. “Your date’s here,” Kathleen said, her hands on her hips. “He brought flowers.”
Davis, looking like a stranger in slacks and a white shirt, smiled. “Don’t get too excited. I cut them from my backyard.”
“They smell so good.” Avery buried her nose in the bouquet of bright-yellow jonquils in a Mason jar. “These always make me hopeful that we might make it through winter.”
“One of the great things about life,” Kathleen said. “Spring always comes.” She patted them both on the shoulder. “Come on, Howie. Let’s leave these kids to themselves.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go with us?” Avery said.
Davis looked mildly taken aback. “I made reservations at the Bayou Steak House over on Lake Bistineau. I can add another.”
“Nice recovery,” Kathleen said, “but I’ve got a big night planned watching British comedies.”
“My dad loves those,” Avery said.
“He must be a good man.” Kathleen walked off, Howie on her heels.
Davis put his hands in his pockets. “Does that restaurant sound good? We might have more privacy there. Away from all our nosy Samford neighbors.” He grinned.
“You don’t mind driving that far?”
“I look forward to it.” He reached to pull her off the couch, but she dodged his hand and stood, the black dress swirling as they headed for the car.
Walking through the front door of the Bayou Steak House was like stepping back in time—both in the restaurant and in her own life. She had not been here since long before Cres died, even though it was one of his favorite restaurants.
Gold leather booths glowed under hurricane lanterns mounted on the walls. The carpet, unchanged through the years, and the lack of televisions gave a hushed feel, almost like the sound right before church started.
A mirror behind the bar reflected the colors of paintings of regional scenes. The art, she saw upon a closer look, was on loan from the Sweet Olive Folk Art Gallery and available for purchase.
Camille needs ideas. Right.
The waitstaff, dressed in black pants and white shirts, was mostly the same—formal serving veterans who poured water and related the specials with solemnity.
“Save room for their King Cake bread pudding,” Davis said as they ordered.
“Might I recommend the strawberry shortcake made with Ponchatoula berries and homemade pound cake?” the waiter asked.
A child’s squeal distracted Avery, and she didn’t reply. In the mirror, her eyes met those of Thora Fairfield, seated across the room in a red T-shirt. A blond toddler giggled from a booster seat at the table, while an older couple smiled indulgently.
Davis looked at her and back at the waiter. “We’ll be a moment.”
“Yes, sir.” The waiter stepped toward the kitchen.
Avery watched him walk away, remembering not one of her dinners here with Cres but her first visit to Cres’s office, days after her graduation from college and weeks before their wedding.
She had been excited to be invited into this part of his life, and Cres greeted Avery in the lobby of the office tower, draping his arm around her while he signed her in. “Isn’t she something?” he said to the security guard who answered with two thumbs up.
On the elevator, she stepped closer to Cres, feeling shy, almost like she didn’t know him. That was silly. He wore one of his standard outfits—a pair of slacks, a golf shirt from a resort in Florida, and a pair of leather loafers he had bought from an exclusive men’s store in Dallas.
“I can’t wait to see your office. Now I’ll be able to picture it when you’re working all those long hours. I’m so glad we’re together again.” She reached for his hand, but he pulled away as the door glided open.
“Here we are. My home away from home this past year.” He shepherded her through the glass door, the words Creswell Broussard & Son, CPAs painted in small letters.
“Classy.” She smiled and reached for her phone.
“What are you doing?” His voice was sharp, a tone she had heard a handful of disturbing times.
“I want to get a picture of you by the sign. Daddy will love it.”
“That’s silly.” He looked toward a young brunette who sat at a receptionist’s desk. “We’re not in college anymore.”
Stung, Avery fumbled to put the phone back in her purse.
“We’ll do it another time,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll get someone to snap the two of us. Now, come see my new office.” Ushering her through the lobby, he nodded at the receptionist, his steps increasing as he headed for the hallway.
The young woman had beamed at Cres as he strolled by, her gaze lingering on Avery. Her wavy dark hair flowed to the middle of her back, her face heavily made-up—but still gorgeous. She wore a tight red sleeveless top, cut in at her tanned shoulders.
“Shouldn’t we have stopped to say hello?” Avery asked as they stepped through the door. Cres was walking so fast, she struggled to keep up with him, but he slowed at her question.
“To whom?” he asked with a frown.
“That secretary. It felt rude rushing by like that.”
Cres rubbed his earlobe, a nervous quirk Avery found endearing. “Thora’s just an intern. I pass her a hundred times a day. I can’t visit with everyone in the office.”
“But I want to get to know your coworkers. I’ve got a year of catching up to do.” She smiled. “After all, I am going to be the boss’s wife.”
He returned her smile, but it didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “You’ll be crazy about my secretary. She’s been at the firm forever.”
Brenda Bottoms was middle-age
d and overweight, and she wore her hair, prematurely gray, cropped short. Her sleeves were long and her blouse navy blue. She looked from Cres to Avery and back at Cres.
“Brenda, this is my fiancée, Avery.” He gave Avery a tight squeeze as he said the words, bringing a warmth to her cheeks. “Avery, this woman runs the office. She’s something.”
“Nice to meet you, Avery. I hope Cres knows what a fortunate man he is.” The soft-spoken words were delivered with a quick look toward Cres, the kind a parent gives a child acting up in church. “She’s lovely, Cres.”
His quick laugh sounded peculiar, more like a croak. “Brenda thinks she’s my mother. You two are going to love each other.”
“I’ll keep a close eye on this man of yours, Avery. You call or pop in anytime.”
“You’re my secretary, not my probation officer.”
“Cres!” Avery exclaimed.
“Just kidding. Brenda and I joke around all the time, don’t we?”
For a moment, Brenda stared into Cres’s eyes and then looked back at Avery. “I look forward to your wedding.”
“I’m glad you’re coming.” Avery hunched her shoulders and lowered her voice. “I won’t know most of the people there, so it’ll be great to see a friendly face.”
“I’ve known this one since he was a boy, and it’ll be nice to see him settle down.”
The phone rang, and a frown crossed Brenda’s face as she glanced down. “Excuse me.” She punched one of a dozen lines and picked it up.
Cres tugged on Avery’s hand. “Come see my new desk.”
“He’s busy right now,” Brenda said into the phone as they walked away. “I told you not to call again.”
Avery paused, taken aback by her tone, but Cres pulled her into his office and closed the door. “Don’t mind Brenda. She’s used to having her way.”
That day Thora had watched Avery, but tonight she quickly looked away. Her attention seemed locked on the boy, whom she lifted out of his seat and held against her chest.
Davis reached out and touched Avery’s arm, causing her to start. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice pitched low.
“I am so sorry. Would it be okay if we left?”
He jumped to his feet and pulled out her heavy chair. “Are you sick?”
“I think I’m going to be.” She rushed from the restaurant.
Davis insisted on taking her to his house. “It’s closer.”
Clasping her clammy hands, Avery nodded. At least she wouldn’t have to talk to Kathleen yet. The drive had been silent, except for Avery’s occasional sniffle.
“Do you need to pick up Jake?” Avery asked with a hiccup as they pulled into the garage.
“He’s spending the night with a friend from church.” He paused. “That makes them both happy.”
“And you?”
He gave a sheepish smile. “I miss the little squirt when he’s not around.”
“You have a pretty home,” Avery said as they entered. A large island with a granite countertop dominated the kitchen. A bar stool was pulled up before a Sesame Street cereal bowl and spoon resting on a fire-truck place mat.
“I wish I had Kleenex.” He looked around before he grabbed a roll of paper towels. “Will these help?”
She gave him a watery smile. “I’m so, so sor—”
“Stop.” He shepherded her to a big leather couch. “You’ve apologized plenty. In fact, you’ve got a credit for future dates.”
She looked up. “You’d actually go out with me again?”
“There aren’t that many single women in Samford,” he said with a wink. Then his face grew solemn. “But I would appreciate it if you’d tell me what’s going on.”
Avery closed her eyes, remembering the boy who looked like the child she had planned to have with Cres. “I’m not sure I can talk about it.”
“O-kay.” He drawled the word out and tossed a small blanket covered in monkeys her way. Then he moved to the fireplace and placed a couple of logs onto the andirons. Sticking a long match to kindling, he blew a time or two, and the fire crackled to life.
“You’re way too nice to me. I ruined our plans.” Avery sank back into the couch and absorbed the warmth of the room. The brick house sat in a subdivision lined with similar new homes and was filled with personality.
A watercolor of deer in the edge of woods hung over the fireplace. Pictures of Jake from infancy to preschool graduation were scattered about. Two guitars—one full-size and one child-size—hung on stands in the corner.
“Do you ever wish you could go back in time and start over?” She shook her head before he answered. “Of course not. You have it all together.”
“I’ve made mistakes. What I lack in quantity, I make up for in quality.” His grin didn’t quite meet his eyes. “And that’s a no to having it all together.”
She gestured around the room. “You have a beautiful home, a great business, a cute son. You even get along with your aunt.” The fire popped and Avery jumped.
“It’s easier to judge people by what’s outside. But that’s like thinking TV dinners taste like the picture on the package. And I can tell you from lots of experience, they don’t.”
Their laughter eased the tension in the room.
“How long have you lived here?” Avery asked after a moment.
“About two years. My wife died when Jake was three, and I bought this place a few months later. I hoped it would offer him stability. Me too, I guess.”
“She had cancer, right?” Avery had seen people walk to the other side of a room to avoid talking to her about death, and right now she understood what they were feeling.
He gave a slow nod. “We didn’t know until right after Jake was born.” He put his hands on his knees. “Losing a spouse . . .” He shrugged. “It puts you into a weird sort of club.”
She looked back down at her hands. “I shouldn’t be a member of that club.”
“Nobody wants to be. But what choice do we have?”
She picked up a picture of Jake from the end table, rubbing her hand on the glass. “You’re so lucky to have a son. I wanted to have a baby.”
His gaze locked with hers. “I don’t know how I would have gotten by without my boy.”
She stood and walked to the fireplace, inhaling the aroma of smoke. The wood popped again as she held her hands out for warmth. “Cres didn’t want a child,” she said into the flames. “Not with me anyway.”
She turned, and Davis leaned forward in the chair. It took a few moments for her to compose herself. “Our marriage was falling apart.”
“I had heard that.” His voice was quiet.
“You and your grapevine,” she said with a shaky smile.
“I don’t know what happened in your marriage, but I’ll tell you what Kathleen always tells me. You have to move on.”
“That’s what I’m doing—or trying to do.” She sat on the hearth.
“Sorry.” He grimaced. “I hate it when people tell me what to feel and when I should feel it.”
“I wish I could be more like you. I hibernated for a year—hardly left the house except to go to work. I was a coward.”
He stood and walked to the fireplace, then leaned against the mantel for a second before turning to face her. “Be thankful you hibernated. I messed up so many lives.” He cleared his throat. “I rushed into a second marriage and made everything worse.”
“You’re married?” She sprang off the hearth, her gaze flying around the room.
“Of course not! I wouldn’t have asked you out if I were married.” He threw her a wounded look. “We divorced after six months, and she moved back to Atlanta.”
“Another strike against my grapevine.”
“I was going to tell you at dinner, but things veered off course.”
“Wow.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, looking ten years older. “I was stupid.”
“And scared and lonely?”
“That’s putting it kindly.”
She sat again and Davis sat beside her. “I like the way your mind works,” he said.
“That’s a new one.” She tried to smooth her hair.
“Seriously. You’ve turned a run-down corner store into a popular place.” He leaned forward. “And you’re a lot prettier than Bill.”
She saw the spark in his eyes—and wished she felt it too. But she didn’t. She turned, rubbing the wood on the mantel. “Is this cypress? Wouldn’t something like this make a good display at the market?”
Davis didn’t say anything, just studied her.
“Did you buy it around here?” she rambled on. “It’s fantastic.”
The spark vanished. “T. J. Aillet made it. Maybe you should give him a call.”
Chapter 29
Avery pawed through her closet at Kathleen’s house. Maybe the black dress could work. It wouldn’t show dirt, and she could swap out her shoes after the breakfast rush.
“I’m out of here,” she said a few minutes later. “See you at the store.”
Kathleen put her hands on her hips, surveying her. “Didn’t you forget the pearls?”
Smoothing her hair, Avery pasted on a nonchalant smile. “I have to run errands this afternoon.”
“At a funeral home?” Kathleen frowned. “It’s Monday. Aren’t we working on our offer to Bill today?”
“That may need to wait until this evening. We’ll talk about it at work. The biscuits aren’t going to make themselves.”
Kathleen’s eyes narrowed. “See you there.”
Morning customers were always rushed, most on a tight schedule. One of Avery’s unexpected pleasures was chatting about their lives while serving them, and this morning she allowed herself to savor each conversation.
“Hope the presentation goes well,” she said to a young insurance agent.
“Is your daughter ready for her recital?” she asked a middle-aged pediatrician.
Davis held the door for the doctor, smiling as he entered. “Could I interest you in a job?”
Avery laughed. “I doubt your aunt would appreciate that.”
He made a face. “Good point. But you have a knack for this.”
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