Cheryl Harper - Smoky Mountain Sweethearts

If she didn’t hurry, her mother would barge back in with a can of hair spray in one hand and her leftover cheesecake in the other. She’d be forced to eat while her mother teased and sprayed. Then they would definitely miss their flight into Knoxville, and Avery wasn’t sure how well she’d weather a setback like that.

She quickly slipped on the jeans that were so loose they were uncomfortable and yanked on a sweater. For years, through Robert’s treatments and hospital stays, Avery had learned never to leave home without layers. It might be October, but the cold had become a permanent part of her life.

Her mother was still fussing when Avery stepped out of the bathroom. Her view from her room into the connecting room showed a whirlwind of destruction. “Mama, you only slept in that bed for one night. What in the world were you doing?” The sheets were tumbled into a ball while all the pillows save one were stacked against the headboard in a teetering tower. Avery was worn out just studying the mess.

“Hunting for the bedbugs.” Janet Abernathy rolled her eyes. “Hotels are famous for bedbugs.”

Avery almost argued with her. If hotels were famous for bedbugs, no one would stay in them, ever. And this airport business-class hotel might not be big on amenities or renovation, but it was clean enough. Arguing wouldn’t change her mother’s mind, though. Janet Abernathy never missed a news program. Because of that, she knew the world outside of Sweetwater, Tennessee, was filled with dangers. Only constant vigilance would do.

Avery’s suitcase was still on the side of the bed where she’d left it. If her mother’s room was an after shot of a crime-scene investigation, hers was barely disturbed. At least she’d slept through the night. She was beginning to depend on that.

With a shove of her hairbrush and the clothes she’d slept in into her bag, Avery was packed. She quickly zipped up the suitcase and slipped on her flats while she smiled again at her mother’s relieved sigh.

“Do we need to call a cab?” her mother asked as she looked one last time in the mirror over the desk.

“No, they’ll get us one downstairs,” Avery said as she moved to stand next to the door.

“I can wait if you’d like to put on lipstick,” her mother said with an encouraging nod. “I have choices.”

“And I still don’t care to see them,” Avery answered as she pulled open the door. “We better hurry.” They were still two hours before boarding, but it was important to both of them that they get home soon. And coffee was the only thing that would make this day bearable.

Avery handled the checkout while her mother fiddled nervously with her bags, her hair and her rings, both eyes locked to the muted cable news channel running in the hotel lobby. “It’s okay, Mama. We’ll be home soon.”

Instead of fussing back, her mother reached over and squeezed Avery’s hand. “And I’ll be glad to know you’re safe, my girl.”

The tears that sprang to Avery’s eyes were disappointing. For months, she had been fighting these stupid emotions that blindsided her when she was least expecting them. She’d gone to therapy and used antidepressants and self-help books. Still, the tears were there, under the surface. This wasn’t like her at all.

If she was going home and planning on leaving the house at some point, she had to get that control back. The day she’d been packing and opened the front door of the house to find her mother standing on the step, she’d buckled so badly under the weight of the tears that she was certain her mother would never look at her the same.

Avery Abernathy had only cried when she was mad or when her father died.

Avery Montague cried at the drop of a hat.

Herding her mother through Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport was the perfect distraction from any worries she might have. It was a bit like keeping up with a teenager who had a credit card with no limit. When they finally sat down at the gate, Avery was on her second cup of coffee and her mother had a load of shopping bags.

“Watch my seat. I have to go to the ladies’.”

Probably to put on more lipstick.

Avery wrestled the lid off her cup and blew to cool down the coffee she desperately needed.

At least she’d done the hard part. The bags were checked, except for her mother’s airport must-haves. When they landed in Knoxville, Avery would do her best to hustle her mother right to baggage claim and on out into the parking lot.

The businessman seated opposite her pointed at all the bags stacked in the chair. “Forget a few things?” His charming smile was easy to answer.

“I think it was more about killing time.” Avery sipped her coffee and watched her mother meander around the newsstand across the way. She had two magazines in one hand already.

“Is Knoxville home?” the guy asked as he set his computer aside.

“No, over an hour away.” Her home had been in Chicago for almost ten years, but it was easy enough to understand his question. And Sweetwater was where she was headed to stay.

“I’m based out of Knoxville.” He reached for his wallet to pull out a card and hand it to her. “I’m Chuck. Nice to meet you.”

Chuck Armstrong was a liquor distributor, apparently. Why would she need his card?

“Nice to meet you, too,” Avery said and laid the card carefully next to her on the seat. She’d drop it in the trash somewhere to avoid hurting his feelings. Maybe he thought she had a restaurant or something.

“Lookee what I found,” her mother crowed as she plopped down next to Avery. “Cute actors. Cute singers. Cute designers. And cute dogs. If you can’t find something to read in this stack, you ain’t even trying.” She dropped the magazines in Avery’s lap and pulled off the one on top. “This one’s mine.”

“Cute couches. That’s what you’re going with?” Her mother devoured decorating shows, books and magazines, and occasionally decided to revamp the house Avery had grown up in. “What color is the living room now, Mama?”

Her mother sighed. “You don’t remember how many paint chips I tested?” Their conversations for a while had been all about her mother’s projects, mainly because Avery had stared at hospital walls and nothing else for days straight. “Colonial gray. That’s what I’ve got right now.” She tapped the white sofa with splashes of bright red flowers. “This would be darling.”

It would. Years of study meant Janet Abernathy had a good eye. “Have you ever thought about opening up an interior-design business?”

Her mother straightened in her seat and shot her a surprised glance. Then she laughed as if Avery had said the most amusing thing she’d heard in a while. “It’s a hobby. I don’t have any training. And who in Sweetwater’s going to be hiring an interior designer? No, ma’am. Right now, my focus is on you. Once you’re home, everything will be okay.” She turned the page slowly and then folded the corner down so she’d remember to come back to it. If she’d been in a better frame of mind, stronger, Avery would have insisted they talk about this. Her mother needed more in her life.

At this point, Avery was not in a position to argue, but having her mother’s attention focused solely on her? This could be a problem.

“I like working at the school part-time, here and there as needed. It’s never dull,” her mother said with a careless shrug. Since her eyes never met Avery’s, it was hard to decide if she meant what she was saying. “Are you thinking of opening up a...something? Going into business for yourself? It ain’t easy. I mean, I don’t know why you can’t go back to school, but...”

This was her mother’s subtle way of asking what Avery was going to do with the rest of her life. Since she’d been mainly focused on tying up all the loose ends left by Robert’s death, closing up and selling their two-story house, and sleeping sixteen hours a day, Avery hadn’t had much time for career planning. The first several times her mother had asked, Avery had shut her down. Sharply.