Page 12 of One Southern Summer

Avery hesitated. Making things pretty? Is that really all she was good at? She’d mulled the notion for months, ever since her marriage imploded. She’d tried to find her new lane, binging countless podcast episodes, hoping to find inspiration in the stories of other women making a positive impact in the world.

“I’m not that great at designing clothes,” she confessed.

“So not true. You whipped up a few outfits for me when we were younger.”

She ignored her sister’s protest. “Posting on social media about my non-Instagrammable life won’t pay the bills, either. Besides, I want to do something more substantial. I want to help women bounce back from devastating circumstances.”

There. More words she’d feared saying out loud, because frankly the idea sounded ridiculous.

Harper’s brows sailed upward.

“Before you say anything, let me explain.”

“I’m listening.”

“Social media is a wonderful tool. I’d be lying if I claimed we could’ve been successful without it. But at the same time, the content we created wasn’t necessarily authentic. It’s a slippery slope, creating content for an audience that can turn on you overnight.”

“But you’re so good at it.” Harper set her tea aside and scrolled through her phone. “Did you see there are more than five hundred comments to that picture Julene posted for you this morning?”

“But that’s the thing.” Avery fought to keep irritation from her voice. “It’s just a pretty picture. It doesn’t change the world or inspire a woman who feels hopeless to keep going.”

“It might. You don’t know for sure.” Harper kept scrolling. “Most of these comments are super kind.”

“Don’t tell me about the ones that aren’t.”

Insights, analytics, likes, comments and shares—all the data that used to make her world go around—she’d been able to ignore since her self-imposed hiatus from social media. Hayes released a deep sigh and she resumed rocking. Julene had paired the lovely photo of the lake with an intriguing caption, something about hitting the reset button and making a fresh start.

So folks had noticed. Big deal. She couldn’t buy diapers with a social media post.

Inside, the doorbell rang then footsteps thumped across the hardwood floors. Addison squealed with delight.

Harper and Avery exchanged glances. “Nana,” they said in unison. Greer had been kind enough to pick her up and bring her to the house for supper.

Then Avery recognized the familiar rumble of Cole’s laughter. Her pulse sped. She didn’t want to feel excited about his visit, yet she couldn’t stop her thoughts from circling around all the childhood memories filled with Cole. During the storms in her life, he’d reappeared at the exact moment she needed him most. That had always been the way with their friendship.

Until she’d let Pax woo her into a whirlwind courtship.

“Let me see if Mama needs help.” Harper stood. “But I want to talk more later about the engagement and the reach of Julene’s post.”

I don’t.She’d longed for her sisters’ support, and she understood Harper’s enthusiasm for revamping an account that had been successful. But she couldn’t ignore the thoughts that kept resurfacing. The idea that maybe she was meant for something more substantive than “making things pretty.” She had to focus on something more practical—like a traditional job with a steady paycheck and health insurance.

Harper went inside and slid the screen door closed. Cole’s voice grew louder. Kind, loyal Cole. Steadfast. She smiled at the bittersweet memory of their vow to marry at thirty-two if they hadn’t met anyone else. It had been a rough night. A silly proclamation, really. Besides, she’d been inebriated from whatever her loser date had slipped into her soda. Cole had kept her company, and they’d scrawled their vow on a cocktail napkin embossed with their high school’s name and the date. She still had the napkin somewhere—probably in the bottom drawer of her jewelry box. The whole evening might’ve been an epic disaster, but he’d redeemed it by making her laugh and driving her safely home without an expectation of anything in return.

Right on cue, he stepped onto the porch with a Tervis tumbler full of ice water and a plate of cheese, crackers and fruit.

“Hey,” he said. “Julene sent me with sustenance.”

“Thanks.” She smiled, strangely shy at his presence.

Cole set the water and the plate on the table next to her then sat on the opposite rocker. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his gingham-checked button-down to reveal chiseled forearms. His gray slacks were impeccably pressed, and concern was evident in his expression as he studied her. Harper always said he had the prettiest hazel eyes. Those long dark lashes were to die for too.

“This must be the handsome baby boy I’ve heard so much about.” Cole’s warm gaze settled on Hayes. “Your grandmother likes to brag.”

Avery laughed. “It’s one of her many gifts.”

“What’s his name?”

“This is Hayes. He’s five months old.”

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