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

laughing and hurrying toward the truck with Gus watching from his perch on the couch in front of the window, and the hens and rooster clucking safely in the henhouse.

“So which brother am I meeting?” Maeve asked.

“Chase,” Gage answered, as he put the truck in gear.

“And where does he fall in the order of royalty succession?”

“Last,” Gage said. “He’s the youngest.” He paused thoughtfully. “Let’s see, he is ten years younger than me, so he must be twenty-six.”

“What’s he doing in Savannah?”

“He didn’t say—just that he was gonna be in town if I . . . we . . . wanted to get together.”

Maeve nodded, her stomach suddenly twisting into a knot as she thought about the obituary she’d found that morning. She looked out the window, wanting to ask Gage about Cale, aching to know what had happened.

Gage looked over again. “There’s something I should tell you, though . . .”

Maeve’s heart pounded—did Gage know, somehow, that she’d found the obituary? Had she not put his Bible back in the right spot? Had something else fallen out that she hadn’t noticed?

“Chase is bringing a friend,” he began. “I’ve never met him before—in fact, I haven’t seen Chase in a couple of years.”

“Okay,” Maeve said. “Honestly, I’m just looking forward to meeting someone from your family.”

“Good,” Gage said. “I just didn’t want you to be surprised . . . or wonder.”

“Hey! You know me—I’m easy,” she said.

“Mm-hmm,” Gage replied, eyeing her skeptically as they passed through the campus of the Savannah College of Art and Design.

“Your old stomping grounds,” Maeve observed, looking out the window.

“Yep,” Gage said, glancing up at the darkened window of an apartment overlooking Liberty Street. “Anyway, Chase has had a hard time because our dad . . . well . . . he hasn’t really been . . .”—he paused, trying to think of the right word—“receptive.”

Maeve nodded uncertainly. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure what Gage was trying to say. His brother was bringing a friend to dinner. . . . What did that have to do with their dad? She gazed out at famous Forsyth Park. At least she was getting to meet one of his brothers, and maybe she would learn more about Gage. It was like watching an onion being peeled back, layer by layer.

Gage pulled into a parking garage on Liberty Street, and as they hurried toward his former place of employment, the Savannah Distillery Ale House—a hip craft beer and cocktail bar—he reached for her hand. “The Distillery,” as it was better known, was in an old brick building in Elbert Square—one of the original wards of historic downtown Savannah. Even though it hadn’t always been a bar—it had once been a pharmacy, and then, a furniture store—it did have roots in alcohol production. From 1904 to 1907 the building had been home to the Louisville and Kentucky Distilling Companies, and during the Temperance movement—when all the spirits in Savannah were being dumped in the streets—bathtub gin and beer were still being distilled and brewed upstairs.

They came around the corner and Maeve saw two young men sitting at an outdoor table under a red café umbrella. There was no mistaking Gage’s younger brother. Slender and tan with short blond hair, Chase Tennyson looked like a younger version of Gage, and when he saw them coming, he stood to greet them. He was wearing faded jeans, a slim-fitting button-down oxford with sleeves rolled to his forearms, and stylish Ray-Ban sunglasses.

“Hey, big bro,” Chase said, grinning as he gave Gage a hug.

“Hey, yourself,” Gage said. “When the hell did you get so tall?”

Chase laughed and then propped his sunglasses on top of his head. Eye contact, Maeve noted, and then realized he had the same pale blue eyes as his brother. “So, is this the famous Maeve—the girl who’s finally stolen my big brother’s heart?” he teased.

“This is,” Maeve said, laughing and shaking his extended hand, surprised that he knew her name. “It’s really nice to meet you, Chase.”

“It’s really nice to meet you, too,” he said, and then he turned and gestured to his friend. “This is Liam . . . Liam Evans.”

Liam smiled, revealing perfectly straight white teeth, and shook their hands, too. Like Chase, he was stylishly dressed but had short dark hair and wasn’t quite as tall, and instead of Ray-Bans, he wore expensive Maui Jims, making Maeve wonder what in the world they did for a living.

“It’s great to meet you, Liam,” Gage said, smiling. Then he looked over his brother’s shoulder at their table.

“We were a little early,” Chase said, “so we thought we’d try a couple of their beers.”

“Which ones?” Gage asked, all too familiar with The Distillery’s offerings.

“I’m having Wild Heaven and . . .” Chase looked at Liam and frowned. “Which one did you get?”

Liam smiled. “Let There Be Light.”

Gage nodded approvingly.

“So, do you want to sit out here?” Chase asked. “Or we can see if there’s a table inside . . .”

Gage looked questioningly at Maeve, and she smiled. “It’s a beautiful night,” she said. “Outside would be nice.”

“Perfect,” Chase said, pulling out a chair for her. “Dinner is on us, by the way,” he added with a smile that immediately tugged on her heartstrings.

18

MASON WATCHED HIS CLASSMATES PUMP THE KEG, FILL THEIR CUPS WITH foamy beer, and then wander off unsteadily. He wasn’t a drinker. Occasionally, he sipped a beer, but it was only when one was thrust into his hand by a teammate—like tonight. He didn’t care for the taste, and he didn’t like the feeling it gave him. What was the point of numbing your senses? Of not being completely present?

Growing up, he’d never seen his mom drink. She’d rarely even gone out, and when she did, she was famous for having a cup of black coffee. One time he’d asked her why she never dated anyone, and she made a goofy face that told him it was a ridiculous question, and said, “Because my favorite date is right in my living room!” Mason had rolled his eyes, but he knew it was true—his mom enjoyed his company, and he enjoyed hers. They could almost always be found at home together—she in