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

Saran Wrap over it, too.” She slid the pie back out, tore off a piece of Saran Wrap, laid it over the top, and then put it back in the fridge. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure it will be, too,” Sal reassured her. “So is Gage coming here first?”

“He is,” she confirmed, looking up at the clock. “He should be here soon.”

Sal nodded as he measured rice.

Maeve picked up the tray and turned to take it out to the porch, but just as she did, they both heard an odd sound, and eyed each other. “What in heaven’s name was that?” Sal asked.

Maeve smiled. “That must be Mr. Hawkins’s fiddle. I told him he should bring it to happy hour, and he must’ve taken me up on it!”

Sal chuckled. “Never a dull moment around here with these old coots!”

“True,” Maeve agreed. She walked through the foyer and pushed open the screen door.

“Here she is!” Addie said cheerfully, turning to Gladys. “I told you she’d be right along.”

Gladys took a sip of her Chardonnay. “Well, it’s about time!” she exclaimed. “We thought you got lost.”

“I didn’t get lost,” Maeve said, offering them the appetizers.

Addie—ever prim and proper—took one, her pinky finger daintily up in the air, and placed it on the napkin Maeve offered, but Gladys stacked one on top of another and put them on the table next to her, and then reached for a third and popped the whole thing into her mouth. “What’s for dinner?” Gladys asked with her mouth full of crumbs. “Please don’t tell me it’s fish!”

“Sal is making maple-glazed salmon,” Maeve said, bracing for a stormy reaction, but Gladys just nodded and smiled.

“I like salmon,” she said, reaching for the wine she and Addie were sharing, and shakily refilling their glasses, giving herself the lion’s share. Maeve watched with raised eyebrows, waiting for her to spill, and then realized the bottle was half-empty—which was probably why she was being so agreeable.

Maeve continued down the porch, maneuvering between the walkers and canes, and stopping to offer the tray to each of the residents. Per usual, the men were at the far end, but now, Bud was among them, laughing jovially and enjoying a beer while he adjusted the strings of his fiddle. Aristides, who was sitting beside him, gently stroked sleeping Tallulah’s soft orange fur. Maeve offered Landon and Loren Olivetti the crackers, and after all the men had been served, she put one on a napkin and set it next to Ivy Lee, along with a glass of lemonade. As she turned to make her way back, she saw Gage parking his truck, and heard Gladys whisper to Addie. “The maid’s beau is here again!”

She watched Gage let Gus out, and she quickly made her way to the top step to slow the pup’s rocket-ship trajectory. “Hey, there, mister,” she said, laughing as he vaulted over the steps and nearly bowled her over. “Don’t forget, you need to take it easy up here.”

She knelt down, and he wiggled all around her, thumping her head with his tail, and then he continued wiggling down the porch, happily scoffing up dropped cracker crumbs and the one whole pickle chip Gladys had dropped. Finally, he looked up, sniffing the air, spotted Tallulah curled up on Aristides’s lap, and slowly—almost catlike—tiptoed toward her, but Tallulah, sensing a game was afoot, opened one eye and rose, arching her back. Feeling her move, Aristides looked up and saw the confrontation unfolding. “It’s okay, Miss Tally,” he whispered, stroking her arched back, but his touch triggered her fight-or-flight mechanism, and she leapt from his lap and streaked down the porch, under and between all the walkers and canes with Gus in gleeful pursuit.

“Whoa!” Bud exclaimed as the two animals flew by.

And Gage—who’d just reached the top step—shouted the dog’s name, and much to everyone’s surprise, especially Gage’s, the yellow Lab almost tumbled over himself as he came to a halt and looked back. “Come back here, mister!” Gage commanded, and with his ears back and tail hanging, the big puppy plodded back to him. “Good boy for listening,” Gage said softly, “but you know you’re not supposed to chase poor Tallulah,” he added sternly.

Gus sat down and put his paw on Gage’s knee, looking for forgiveness, and Gage tousled his ears. “It’s okay.”

Addie smiled. “You’re such a good boy, Gussie,” she cooed. “That darn cat likes to tease you,” she added softly, “and you’re only doing what your instincts tell you.” She offered him a cracker, and as his tail began to wag again, Addie looked up at Gage. “How are you, young man?”

“I’m fine, Miss Addie. How are you?”

“Able to sit up and take nourishment,” she said, chuckling.

Gage smiled, remembering how Dutch used to say the very same thing. He looked down the porch. “Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Good afternoon!” a chorus of cheerful voices replied.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Gladys asked, giving him a flirtatious wink.

“Why, no thank you, Miss Gladys,” Gage replied politely. He turned to Maeve. “Almost finished?”

“In a bit,” she replied. “Why don’t you chat with the men for a few minutes?”

Gage greeted each of the ladies by name as he made his way to the end of the porch, and sat down next to the men. “Here’s himself!” declared Landon, as Loren pulled a frosty beer out of their cooler and handed it to him—all of them happy to have his company.

“Gage, this is Bud Hawkins,” Aristides drawled, as Gus curled up at their feet.

Gage nodded and reached across the porch to shake his hand. “Pleasure, sir.”

“Pleasure’s mine,” Bud replied.

“You play?” Gage asked, nodding to the lustrous maple-wood fiddle in his lap.

“I’m a little rusty, but I still play—I used to compete,” he added with a shy smile.

“You did?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know ‘Orange Blossom Special’?” Aristides asked hopefully.

“Oh, sure,” Bud said.

“Will ya play it for us?”

Bud took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Oh, I dunno. Like I said, it’s been a while.”

Gage