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

scar and then solemnly crossed her heart, before pulling her shirt over her head and brushing her hair out of her eyes. Next, she pulled on her shorts and socks and grinned at her aunt. “Ready!”

“It’s about time,” Maeve teased, getting up from the bed. She watched in amazement as Harper slid along the hardwood floor to the top of the stairs. In the year and a half since her surgery, Harper hadn’t had any noticeable side effects or setbacks. She had more energy than she’d ever had before, and her doctor said she could even play sports. The most important thing she needed to do was remember to take her medicine, but that was the one thing she always seemed to forget.

Harper slid into the kitchen. “I’m here!” she announced to her mom.

“It’s about time!” Macey teased as she—with Keeper at her feet, watching intently—chopped the celery for her potato salad. “Have some breakfast and take your medicine.”

“Okay!” Harper said brightly. “What can I have?” she asked, looking around the kitchen.

“You can have an apple cider doughnut,” Maeve said, coming into the kitchen behind her and reaching for the box she’d brought.

“Are Gage and Gus coming?” Harper asked hopefully, as she reached for a doughnut, suddenly realizing Maeve’s two usual sidekicks weren’t with her.

“They are,” Maeve confirmed. “A little later.”

Harper nodded, and then Macey noticed their matching outfits. “Nice shirts!”

Harper grinned. “I know. We gingers have to stick together!”

Maeve laughed. “We do!” She looked at Macey. “Mace, you still have to get one.”

“I know,” Macey replied. “We forgot to look last Saturday when we were shopping.”

“We will next time,” Harper said.

“Okay, Harp, take your medicine before you forget—it’s right there on the counter.”

Harper put her doughnut on a plate. “Anyone else want one?” she asked, holding the box open.

“Me,” Maeve, said, reaching for a second plate. “I was breathing in their wonderful scent all the way over here. Mace, you want one?”

“No, thanks,” Macey said, “but Ben might . . .”

“Ben might what?” her husband asked, coming into the kitchen and wondering what his wife was volunteering him for now.

Macey nodded to the box. “Want a doughnut?”

“Ooh, you twisted my arm,” he said, smiling at Maeve. “I knew there was a reason we continue to invite you.”

Maeve rolled her eyes, and he chuckled. “Are all women born knowing how to do that?” He loved teasing his sister-in-law, whom he’d known since she was in sixth grade.

“Do what?”

“Roll their eyes.”

“We are,” Maeve said. “It’s because we have to put up with you men.”

He laughed. “Want some coffee?” he asked as he refilled his mug.

Maeve nodded with her mouth full. “Mmm, yes, please.”

Ben poured a second mug and spied Keeper gazing longingly at Maeve. “You are such a beggar!”

“He’s fine,” Maeve said, giving him a small piece. “How can you say no to this guy? He’s so darn cute.”

“That’s the problem,” Macey said, as she scooped the celery into the bowl.

Maeve smiled and licked the sugar from her lips. “Okay, now I’m ready,” Maeve said. “What can I do?”

“Want to chop onions?” Macey asked.

“You want me to cry?”

“You won’t cry if you do it right.”

Ben popped the last bite of his doughnut in his mouth and eyed Harper. “You helping me?”

“Yep!” Harper said, giving Keeper her last bite, too, and hopping off her stool. “You comin’, Keep?”

Macey looked over. “I doubt he’s going to leave the kitchen when there’s food prep going on.”

“Yes, he will,” Harper said, reaching for his collar. “Oh! Where’s his new bandanna?”

“Over there,” Macey said, nodding to a bag on the counter.

Harper pulled out the red, white, and blue bandanna, and while he stood patiently, wagging his tail, she tied it around his neck. “There!” she said, stepping back to admire him. “You look so handsome!”

“That reminds me,” Maeve said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “I bet Gage will forget.”

“Yeah, they’re supposed to be twins today,” Harper said. Then she turned toward the door. “C’mon, Keep.”

“Don’t forget your medicine!” Macey reminded again.

“Oh, right!” Harper said. “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached,” she said, repeating the phrase she’d often heard Macey say, and Macey shook her head—mentally noting the truth in the theory that kids noticed what their parents did and said.

A moment later, Harper was out the door with Keeper in tow, and Macey was opening the fridge to retrieve two green peppers and a bag of carrots.

Maeve picked up the container of deviled eggs she’d made with eggs from Gage’s hens. “While you’re in there, Mace, can you find room for these?”

Macey eyed the large, flat container while Maeve peered over her shoulder at the overflowing contents of her sister’s fridge. “Sheesh, Mace, I don’t think you have enough food!”

“I can make room,” Macey assured her sister, moving the hamburgers and hot dogs to the bottom shelf and then rearranging several bowls of salad. “See?” she said proudly. “Plenty of room!”

Maeve shook her head. “Are you letting anyone else bring stuff, or are you like Mom and have to make everything yourself?”

“I let people bring stuff,” Macey said innocently, biting her lip and trying to suppress a smile. She knew all too well what her sister meant—their mom, Ruth Lindstrom, was famous for making too much food . . . and doing it all herself! Her daughters considered themselves lucky if she ever assigned a dish for them to bring.

Maeve eyed her sister. “You’re turning into Mom.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Mom is much more set in her ways . . . and I let you bring stuff.”

“You did, but when I asked you if you needed anything else, you turned me down.”

“Oh, stop! I’m letting you help now,” Macey countered, “and I’m not like Mom.”

“Mm-hmm,” Maeve replied.

“Anyway,” Macey said, putting an onion on the cutting board and changing the subject, “if you don’t want to cry, it helps to leave the root attached.” She showed her sister how to quickly and systematically slice an onion without having to chop it.

“How’d you learn how to do that? Because that’s definitely not how