“OH, THANK GOODNESS,” Avery said, opening her front door to her mother later that evening. She took the fresh tomato Suzannah offered from the palm of her hand. “I picked up two tomatoes this afternoon and both are as mealy as wet bran.”

“Bran? And here all this time I’ve been thinking of you as the Cheerios type,” Suzannah said teasingly.

Heading back to the kitchen, Avery glanced over her shoulder and grinned at her mother trailing behind. “That’s because you still look at me as your little girl.”

“Well, of course I do. The younger you are, the younger I am,” Suzannah said with a laugh that Avery didn’t find convincing.

She washed the tomato and pulled a chef’s knife from the block on her navy-tiled countertop. “And here all this time I’ve been thinking that you considered age to be nothing but a state of mind.”

“True. But there are times I can’t help but wish I was your age again with so much time still ahead of me.” Leaning a shoulder on the archway separating the kitchen and dining areas, Suzannah crossed her arms.

Frowning, Avery cubed the tomato and told herself not to worry. But her mother remained silent, and by the time she scooped up the handful of tiny chunks and tossed them into the bowl of shredded lettuce, Suzannah’s scrutiny had intensified fourscore and seven.

Enough was enough. Avery rinsed her hands and reached for a dish towel, drying as she asked, “Mom? What’s going on here?”

Suzannah considered her daughter from head to toe, then shrugged and pushed away from the archway. “I’ve decided you’re not the Cheerios type after all.”

Mothers! Argh! “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Seeing you preparing dinner for David certainly doesn’t have me thinking of you as a little girl.”

Avery shook her head and turned back to setting the table with her aqua stoneware, relieved her mother’s moodiness was about something so simple. “You act like I’ve never cooked dinner for a man before.”

“You’ve never cooked dinner for David.”

Placing flatware on napkins beside the plates, Avery couldn’t deny the flicker of anticipation brought on by her mother’s comment and the memory of the stolen moments she and David had shared earlier that day. For a moment she simply stared at the muted colors of her reflection in the brushed silver of the knives, forks and spoons atop the ivory linen napkins.

She turned her gaze to Suzannah. “It’s funny that after so many years it would be David making me nervous. I’m worried about getting this right. I guess it’s because this is the first real date I’ve had in a year.”

“Then you’re guessing wrong. What you’re feeling is all about David.”

Her mother was far too intuitive. The tightness in Avery’s chest intensified. “I owe him so much.”

“No, sweetie, you don’t. You absolutely do not. Nothing beyond honesty.” Suzannah came farther into the room and wrapped her daughter in a one-armed hug, rubbing a hand up and down Avery’s upper bicep. “And I think the two of you already have a good start in that direction.”

“It’s just…” Avery paused, not even sure she knew how to phrase what she wanted to say. It was that precipice thing. One wrong step and…splat!

“Just what?” Suzannah encouraged, reaching up to tuck a fall of hair behind Avery’s ear.

Avery moved to sit in one of the dining room’s shaker pine chairs; her mother followed suit. “I think about what you had with Daddy, and it makes me sad that you lost that. I know I can’t fill his shoes—”

Suzannah gasped. “Avery Marie! Do not tell me that you have been putting your own life on hold for five years now because of me.”

Avery glanced up sharply, unsure whether she’d ever seen such a stern expression cross her mother’s face. Not even when Suzannah had called down disruptive students in class. Or when she’d been presented with Avery’s ruined—and pricey—cheerleading uniform top.

“Of course, I haven’t,” Avery hedged, recalling for the first time how much of her comfort level had to do with familiarity. And how she’d been loath to taking chances since that night fifteen years ago. “It’s just that lately the boom in the bakery’s business has been eating into what little social life I did have.”

Suzannah wasn’t buying it. “And breaking your engagement to Tom? Not even a month after your father’s passing?”

“Tom and I wanted different things out of life. It shouldn’t have taken us as long as it did to figure that out.”

At least, that was the truth, though her mother’s emotional state had played a part in her decision to end the engagement. She’d been with Tom two years, yet she had been unable to picture herself ever mourning him the way her mother had mourned the loss of her father.

It had taken that enormous heartbreak for her to recognize the crux of all her relationship issues before and since. She wanted the life her mother had lived with her father. That perfect pairing. That ideal match. That rare coupling of souls that happened but once in a lifetime. She’d been afraid for so long that she would never know such bliss.

For the past forty-eight hours, however, she’d been more afraid that she was going to find she couldn’t have what she wanted with a man when their history, and David’s “ruined life” comment—even if made in jest—factored in.

Sighing, Suzannah turned her chair so that Avery’s and her knees met. “Avery, listen to me. I’ve wanted to say this to you for a very long time, but I hate the idea of butting into your life. Your father and I raised you to be independent and we always respected your decisions, even when we didn’t necessarily agree with them.”

“But?” Avery asked, because she sensed a really big but on the way.

“But you must stop living in the past.” When Avery opened her mouth to interrupt, her mother shushed her and went on. “I’ve suspected as much for some time now. I love our Saturday mornings together, but I know for a fact that Cicely Linden has invited you more than once to go shopping at Canton.”

Avery didn’t know what to say. She’d put off her good friend repeatedly even though a trip to the North Texas antiques bazaar was so incredibly tempting. She’d thought of asking her mother to come along….

“Avery?”

She glanced up at her mother. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s that big of a deal to me.” Suzannah took hold of her daughter’s hands, rubbing her thumbs over the backs of Avery’s fingers. “I feel horribly responsible that somehow I’m holding you back. That you’re living in the past out of a misplaced loyalty to me.”

“You’re my mother. How could any loyalty I have to you be misplaced?” Avery asked, feeling torn between her own feelings and the truth her mother spoke.

Suzannah’s expression grew solemn. “If it’s keeping you from living your life fully, then that’s exactly what it is. Let me ask you this. Would you want me to remain static the rest of my life out of my loyalty to you?”

“Of course not,” Avery answered, squeezing her mother’s hands. “I want you to be happy.”

“Which I am. Very.” Suzannah smiled brightly.

Avery’s smile was dim in comparison. “Besides, you’re hardly remaining static, not with all the coming and going you’ve been up to lately.”

Suzannah sighed. “Avery, listen to me. I’m not a doddering old fool who has to have every moment of her day managed for her. I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself, living on my own, making my own decisions—”

“I know that,” Avery interrupted, facing the fact that she had been hiding in the safe harbor of parental concern. After all, who could fault her for her devotion? “I just knew that losing Daddy would leave a void in your life.”

“Yes. It has. Of course, it has. But it’s a void I have managed to fill by refusing to live in the past.” Suzannah got to her feet and returned her chair to its place. “Now, I want you to promise me you’ll do the same. And start tonight by having a good time with David.”

DAVID SAT ON THE TOP STEP outside his front door, elbows digging into his knees, fingers laced, head down and thumbs rubbing the pressure from his temples as he waited for Suzannah to leave Avery’s place.

Minutes ago, he’d been on his way down, but hearing the knock on her door followed by the voices of both women, he’d stopped above on his third-floor landing. He’d decided to hang out upstairs until the coast was clear, not wanting to interrupt whatever mother-daughter thing they had going on.

More than that, however, he wanted to get his hands on Avery, and with her mother around that wasn’t going to be happening.

He knew he had Suzannah’s blessing should he wish to pursue her daughter. She’d made her approval of him perfectly clear, hinting on occasion how she wished Avery would get out and have more of a social life.

None of the hints had been blatant matchmaking attempts; Suzannah was more subtle than that. Well, except for the obvious lawn-watering ploy. But catching her drift didn’t require a rocket scientist—even if that was exactly what he could have been. Instead, he taught computer science, his higher education plans diverted by one of life’s big fat detours.

In a truly twisted irony, he owed his career to Johnny Boyd and that fight beneath the bleachers. Returning to school with a reputation as a badass had been his first step into the hell that had been his senior year at Tatem High. He only made it two months in before his father yanked him out of school and moved their small family of two to El Paso.

An oil-exploration geologist, his father had been comfortable leaving his overachieving son home alone in the small town during his short trips around the state. That comfort had turned to an unease that blossomed in proportion to David’s dropping grades and rising incidents of trouble. Once enrolled in school in El Paso, he’d been reduced to the same status he’d had in Tatem. The one with the nearly perfect 4.0 GPA.

In the end, the experience had taught him a lot about himself, and he’d married his geek’s love of computer science with the newfound fulfillment he found in teaching when working in after-school programs with kids from El Paso’s barrio. Life was strange, but he couldn’t complain about the twists and turns since he was sitting here waiting to complete a circle that had begun so many years ago. He loved what he did and wouldn’t trade the small-town classroom for the moon.

At the sound of Avery’s door opening and that of her mother’s descending footsteps on the staircase, he got to his feet. He dusted off the seat of his khaki Dockers with one hand as he walked down. When he looked toward Avery’s door he saw her watching his approach.

Her expression was both hesitant and one of anticipation, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether she was responding to her mother’s visit or the thought of the evening ahead.

He slowed his steps as the beat of his heart picked up speed. “Am I too early?”

Avery shook her head. “You’re just in time to save me from talking myself to death while the casserole bakes. King Ranch Chicken. I hope that’s okay.”

“Are you kidding?” She could’ve baked dog biscuits and he would’ve been fine with it. He offered her the bottle of Pinot Grigio he’d brought.

“Mmm.” She smiled as she read the label. “I’m so pedestrian when it comes to alcohol. I was going to offer you Dos Equis or Corona. This will be so much nicer.”

“I’m good with the beer,” he replied, closing her front door and following her through the apartment. The two-bedroom layout of all three floors was identical, and he wasted no time looking around Avery’s place.

Not when she was the reason he was here. And when he had the choice between looking at her furnishings and watching the set of her shoulders, the sway of her hips, the way she shook back her hair as she walked.

He caught the groan rolling up from his gut and stepped into her kitchen. She snagged a corkscrew from a drawer, turned and handed it to him. He took it and placed it on the countertop next to the bottle of wine. And then he hooked an elbow around Avery’s neck and tugged her body flush to his.

“I’m starving,” he said, his forehead resting on hers as his lips brushed the corner of hers and tickled her cheek.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” she answered, her hands moving to his waist, settling there at his belt instead of unbuckling it as she wanted to. She nuzzled her nose to his. “We can start with the wine and the salad.”

“Sounds good.” It sounded awful compared to starting with her mouth. And so he did, opening his lips over hers, which parted willingly.

He swallowed her whimper, devoured her desire, swept his tongue through her mouth and backed her into the countertop. She pulled him with her, urging him closer than the distance he’d forced himself to keep.

He settled his weight fully against her slight frame, wanting more than anything to explore their fit without bright overhead lights glaring down and too many layers of clothing between.

When the tension in the room grew too razor sharp to bear, he eased away slowly, first his body, then his arm from her neck and finally his mouth from hers. He wasn’t going anywhere; they had a long night ahead. The possibilities held by the next few hours were worth a trip taken minute by minute.

And so he let Avery go, and opened the wine.