Lilah sat on the white wicker couch, back to the yard and its profusion of color. Sun spilled through the

window, bathing her in soft, white light-painting her the picture of Southern femininity.

Avery crossed, bent and kissed the woman's cheek, then sat in the wicker queen's chair across from her.

"I've been worried about you."

She waved aside her concern. "Blasted allergies. This time of year is such a trial. The headaches are the

worst."

"Well, you look wonderful."

"Thank you, dear." Lilah shifted her gaze to her daughter. "Cherry, could you bring Avery an iced tea?"

Avery started to her feet. "I can get it."

"Nonsense," Lilah interrupted. "Cherry's here. Would you mind, sweetheart? And some of those little

ginger cookies from the church bake sale."

"No problem," Cherry muttered. "Got to earn my keep, after all."

Avery glanced at the girl. Her features looked pinched. Avery cleared her throat. "Really, Lilah, I can get my own dri-"

Cherry cut her off. "Don't worry about it, Avery. I'm used to this."

After Cherry left the room, Lilah made a sound of frustration. "Some days that girl is so testy. Just miserable to live with."

"We all have bad days," Avery said gently.

"I suppose so." Lilah looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap. When she lifted her eyes, Avery saw

that they sparkled with tears. "It's been...difficult for Cherry. She shouldn't be taking care of us. She should have a family of her own. Children to care for."

"She will, Lilah. She's young yet."

The woman continued as if Avery hadn't spoken. "After Karl left, she changed. She's not happy. None of

my children-"

Lilah had been about to say that none of her children were happy, Avery realized. Hunter she understood. And to a degree, Cherry. But what of Matt? Avery reached across the coffee table and caught Lilah's hand. She squeezed. "Happiness is like the ocean, Lilah. Sometimes swelling, sometimes retreating. Constantly shifting." She smiled. "Sudden swells are what make it all so much fun."

Lilah returned the pressure on her fingers. "You're such a dear child, Avery. Thank you."

"Here you go," Cherry said, entering the room with a tray laden with two glasses of tea, sugar bowl and plate of cookies. Each glass sported a circle of lemon and sprig of mint.

She set the tray on the coffee table. The cookies, Avery saw, were arranged in an artful fan, atop a heart-shaped doily. "How lovely," Avery exclaimed. "Cherry, you have such a gift."

She flushed with pleasure. "It was nothing."

"To you, maybe. I could no sooner put this tray together than run a marathon in world record time."

"You're too sweet."

"Just honest. Join us?"

"I'd love to but there are some things I wanted to do this afternoon. And if I don't get to them, it'll be dinnertime and too late." Cherry turned to her mother. "If you don't need anything else, I'll get busy?"

Lilah waved her off, and for the next few minutes Avery and the older woman chatted about nothing more weighty than the weather. When the conversation lulled, Avery brought up the subject most on her mind. "Buddy told me that back in the eighties you were part of a civic action group called Seven Citizens Who Care."

She drew her eyebrows together. "Why in the world did he do that?"

"We were talking about Cypress Springs. How it's such a great place to live." Avery reached for a cookie, laid it on her napkin without tasting. "Said you enacted real change in the community."

"Those were difficult times." She smoothed the napkin over her lap. "But that's ancient history."

Avery ignored her obvious bid to change the subject. "He said Pastor Dastugue was part of the group.

Who else was a member of The Seven?"

"What did you say?"

"The Seven, who else-"

"We didn't call ourselves that," she corrected sharply. "We were the CWC."

She had struck a nerve, no doubt about it. Ignoring the prickle of guilt, she pressed on. "I'm sorry, Lilah.

I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't." She smoothed the napkin. Once. Then again. "Of course you didn't."

"Was there another group called The Seven?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"Your response...it seemed like The Seven might be something you didn't want to be associated with."

She went to work on the napkin. "Silly, Avery. Of course not."

"I stopped by the Gazette this morning," Avery said. "Rickey Plaquamine offered me a job."

"Outstanding." Lilah leaned forward, expression eager. "And? Did you takejt?"

"Told him I'd think about it."

She pretended to pout, though Avery could see she was delighted she hadn't outright declined the offer.

"We'd all be thrilled if you decided to make Cypress Springs your home, Avery. But no one more than

Matt." She brought her tea to her lips, sipped then patted her mouth with her napkin. "Buddy told me you

and Matt seemed to be enjoying yourselves at Spring Fest."

Avery thought of the other night, of dancing with Matt under the stars. Of how comfortable she had felt, how relaxed. Although she hadn't seen him since, he had called every day to check on her.

She smiled. "We did. Very much."

Avery offered nothing further, though she could tell the woman was eager for details. And assurances, Avery supposed. About her and Matt's future. Ones that she was unable to make.

"Rickey looked great. He said he and Jeanette just had their third."

"A handsome boy. Fat. All their babies have been fat." Lilah leaned toward Avery, twinkle in her eyes. "It's all the ice cream Jeanette eats during her last trimester. Belle from the Dairy Barn told me Jeanette came every day, sometimes twice a day, for a double-swirl hot-fudge sundae."

A smile tugged at very's mouth. Poor Jeanette. Small-town living-life in a fishbowl.

Avery refocused their conversation. "Until today, I hadn't known Sal was gone. I was so shocked. Dad knew how I felt about Sal, I'm surprised he didn't tell me."

Lilah opened her mouth, then shut it. "This year," she began, struggling to speak, "it's been difficult. Our

friends...so many of them...passed away."

Avery stood and crossed to the woman. She bent and hugged her. She felt frail, too thin. "I'm sorry, Lilah. I wish I could do something to help."

"You already have, sweetheart. By being here."

They chatted a couple moments more, then Lilah indicated she needed to rest. They stood. Avery

noticed the woman wasn't quite steady on her feet. It alarmed her to see her this way. Just over two weeks ago, she had seemed the picture of health.

They reached the foyer. Lilah kissed Avery's cheek. "Stop by again soon."

"I will. Feel better, Lilah."

Avery watched as the woman made her way up the stairs, noticing how tightly she gripped the handrail, how she seemed to lean on it for support. She found it hard to believe that seasonal allergies would cause this dramatic change in the woman, though she had no real frame of reference for that belief since she had been one of the lucky ones who had been spared them.

Hunter had claimed his mother was addicted to painkillers and booze. Substance abuse took a terrible toll on health and emotional stability. Could that be what she was seeing?

Cherry appeared in the study doorway, to Avery's left. "Mother's going up to nap?" she asked.

"Mmm." Frowning, Avery shifted her gaze to Cherry. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine. The allergy medicine takes it out of her."

"You're certain? She's not having any other problems, is she?"

"Of course not. Why do you ask?"