Promises to Keep, Nan Rossiter [feel good fiction books .txt] 📗

to get, that one!” She refilled her glass, and Maeve frowned. She wasn’t a big fan of happy hour, but she knew that just because the residents were older, it didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy a cocktail now and again. They were adults with fond memories and human desires like anyone else. They couldn’t help it if they were trapped in old bodies. They were alive and kicking and had the capacity to enjoy life just as much as the next person.

“Maybe you should give him a little time to adjust,” Addie suggested.

Gladys took a sip of her wine. “Oh, I’m giving him time,” she said with a seductive come-hither smile, her cheeks rosy from the wine . . . or was it the lusty conversation?

Maeve shook her head. The staff were well aware of the shenanigans, clandestine encounters, middle-of-the-night visits, and walks of shame (or fame) that went on, mostly because Willow Pond, like any other residential community, was a hotbed of gossip, and some of the ladies—Gladys included—were notoriously flirtatious and chatty. Even with the addition of Mr. Hawkins, the ratio of men to women, however, was four to fourteen, and this only made the men more attractive to the ladies. Three of the men—the Olivetti twins and Aristides—were used to the attention, but Mr. Hawkins was not, so the staff needed to make sure he wasn’t made to feel uncomfortable. At the same time, Maeve had to constantly remind herself that, despite their age, the residents still felt natural human desire.

“Gladys,” Maeve said quietly. “I think he lost his wife recently, so please make sure you give him room and time to adjust.”

“Humph!” Gladys grunted. “I’ll give him all the room in Texas and all the time in heaven.” And Maeve knew, because she’d said something to her the old woman probably wouldn’t even talk to him again—never mind just give him a little space.

Just then, Sal pushed open the screen door. “Ten minutes till dinner!”

“We’ll be right in,” Maeve called back, picking up glasses and napkins.

She reached the end of the porch where the men were sipping cans of Budweiser, and Kate, who’d overheard the tail end of Maeve’s conversation with Gladys, was shaking her head. “Still up to her old tricks.”

“She is,” Maeve agreed with a smile. “I hope I have her sex drive when I’m her age!”

“I don’t even have it now,” Kate said, laughing. “I can barely stay awake when I get home!”

“I know what you mean,” Maeve said, laughing. She picked up the untouched glass of lemonade on the table next to Ivy and then spied Tallulah, the cat, curled up in the old woman’s lap. “Ready for dinner, Miss Ivy?” she asked, but the tiny lady didn’t answer. She was gazing solemnly at the swans gliding across the pond.

11

“HEY,” MAEVE SAID, COMING INTO THE KITCHEN AND UNLOADING THE contents of her arms onto the counter. She hugged her sister and knelt in front of Keeper, who wiggled all around her and pushed his bowed head into her chest.

“You are such a good boy,” she whispered into his fur, making him wiggle even more.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Macey said. “I don’t know how I used to get everything ready before you started coming.”

“I don’t know, either,” Maeve teased, grinning. “It’s not my fault you didn’t invite me.”

“Did you make blackberry cobbler?” Macey asked hopefully.

“I did,” Maeve said, “which reminds me! The ice cream—” She reached into one of the bags and pulled out several pints of ice cream to put in the freezer.

“What kind did you get?” Macey asked, opening the freezer.

“Tennyson’s Plain Ole Vanilla, of course,” Maeve replied. “Is there any other kind for blackberry cobbler?” she teased.

“There’s Sweet Irish Cream,” Macey said, putting the containers on the shelf.

“Oh, I brought that, too!” Maeve said, smiling and handing it to her. “But that’s not for the cobbler. That is just to have!” She looked around. “Where’s Harper?”

“Still in bed!” Macey said.

“No!”

“Yep,” Macey said, nodding. “She stayed up late reading the book you gave her.”

“Harriet the Spy?” Maeve asked, smiling.

“Mm-hmm. She devours every book you give her—I even caught her with a flashlight under the covers.”

Maeve chuckled. “Good for her!”

“You can wake her, though—she needs to get up and take her medicine.”

“Okay,” Maeve said. She tiptoed up the stairs and peeked into Harper’s room.

The little girl was flopped across her sheets, reading, but when she heard a sound in the hall, she looked up. “Aunt Maeve!”

“You stayin’ in bed all day?” Maeve teased, giving her a hug.

“I might,” Harper said, laughing. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you forget today is the picnic?”

Harper frowned, and then her eyes lit up. “I did forget!” She eyed her aunt’s shirt, hopped out of bed, pulled open her dresser drawer, and riffled through it, looking for her version of the same shirt. “Found it!” she said triumphantly, holding it up with a grin. They’d gotten the same shirts when they’d been shopping together, and although Macey had declined to get one, they knew she really wanted one because it said in big letters: I HAVE RED HAIR BECAUSE GOD KNEW I NEEDED A WARNING LABEL!

“Wearing it?” Maeve asked.

“Of course!” Harper said, pulling her pajama top over her head, but before she pulled on the T-shirt, she stopped to look in the mirror. “Thanks, Kari,” she whispered solemnly. “We’re a team now.”

Maeve smiled wistfully—she knew, because Macey had told her, that Harper made sure to thank her friend every time she got dressed. She’d also shared that Harper said she would never forget the promise she’d made to Lana. Kari’s heartbroken mom had found the courage, after her little girl’s tragic accident, to make the difficult decision to donate her organs, and Harper had received Kari’s heart. Afterward, Harper had promised Lana—who she’d known before the accident—that she would always carry her spirit with her, too, and she would visit Lana so she could listen to her daughter’s heart.

Maeve watched as Harper ran her finger lightly down the