by Nan Rossiter
53
ONE MONTH LATER
THE DRIVE FROM SAVANNAH TO ATLANTA ALWAYS REMINDED MAEVE OF her college days and all the times she’d driven back and forth to Emory, especially that one long ride with her dad after she’d given her son up for adoption. That day, when he’d picked her up, it had taken everything she had not to cry. Now, as she looked out the window at the old familiar landmarks, her mind drifted back over everything that had happened in the month since Gage had proposed.
The entire Tennyson family had been thrilled with their news. They’d welcomed her with open arms—and hearts—especially Gage’s mom, who’d said it had made a very sad day a happy one, and was further proof that the joys and sorrows of life do walk hand in hand. She had also said she hoped they would consider having the wedding at the farm—after all, she’d added with a smile, barn weddings were all the rage right now, and it would give them a reason to paint and refurbish the big barn, a project that was long overdue.
After sharing their news, they’d stayed to see Jack Tennyson’s ashes interred beneath the boughs of the giant oak tree next to his son. The sun had been setting and the Tennessee sky had been on fire with every shade of pink and orange, washing the fields and barns in an ethereal golden light. Later, after a quick bite, they’d said good-bye, and as they’d driven past the field again, Maeve had looked up at the solitary oak tree standing in the dusky shadows, and suddenly caught her breath. She’d stopped her Jeep and Gage had pulled over behind her, and they’d both climbed out and watched as a line of cows walked slowly up the hill to stand solemnly under the tree’s long, gnarled branches. Gage had pulled her close, and they’d watched the scene in amazed silence. Afterward, they had followed each other home, stopping only once for a bathroom—and a tree for Gus—finally arriving at the cabin at one in the morning.
They’d walked in and Gage had clicked on the light over his table and noticed a new drawing on it, and the likeness of its subject was uncanny—it was him. In the bottom corner, the artist had signed her name: Harper Samuelson with a small heart next to it—her insignia.
“Wow!” Maeve had said, looking over his shoulder. “I think she’s gotten the hang of using that kneaded eraser you gave her . . . and I think she has a crush on you.”
“You think?” Gage had said, smiling. Then he’d turned and pulled her into his arms. “Too bad I’m taken,” he’d murmured.
“It’s good you’re taken,” Maeve had said, leaning into him. “Besides, she has Sam.”
“Sam?” Gage had said, frowning. “I thought they were just ‘friends’?”
“That’s what she says,” she’d said, laughing, “but I’ve seen the way she looks at him . . . with his wispy hair and ‘eyes that look like pieces of moorland sky.’ By the way, did I tell you Sam’s mom released the baby fox back into the wild?”
“No, you didn’t,” Gage had said. “But that’s great . . . so long as she didn’t release him around here . . .”
“She and Sam and Harper took him to Skidaway Island State Park, and they said as soon as they let him go, he caught a mouse!”
Gage had smiled, and then he’d moved the framed photo of Dutch on the shelf above his drawing table, revealing where he’d tucked the black jewelry box—between the back of the frame and the easel. “The jeweler taught me all about the four Cs,” he’d said with a slow smile, “and he helped me pick out a very sparkly one because, he said, that’s what girls like.” He’d opened the box, revealing a gorgeous diamond in a delicate setting.
“Oh, my! It’s beautiful,” Maeve had whispered, staring at it as he slid it onto her finger, and after admiring it on her hand, she’d pulled him toward the bedroom. “By the way,” she’d said, “you never told me you knew how to play the fiddle!”
And he’d smiled as he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m a man of many hidden talents, remember?” he’d teased, as he’d backed her against the wall and softly kissed her.
“Indeed you are,” she’d murmured, and although it had been late, and she’d been up for almost twenty-four hours straight, and they both had to work the next day, that night between the sheets had been well worth the weariness she’d felt the next morning.
Maeve held out her hand now, admiring her ring again, and Gage glanced over. “Still like it?”
“Like it? I love it!” she gushed, and then she recalled how all the residents at Willow Pond had reacted when she’d showed them. Up and down the porch, everyone had wished her well. “Congratulations!” and “Blessings!” came from all the ladies—including Gladys, who added, “You caught yourself a hottie, missy!” The men had all given her hugs, too, and Aristides had said with a grin, “I tol’ you, you weren’t gonna be an old maid!” Then it had been Bud’s turn. “God always has a plan, Maeve. We may not see it when we’re in the middle of the raging river, but he does.”
Later that day, Ivy’s son had stopped by to pack up his mom’s things. He’d reported that she was doing much better and that he’d secured a bed for her in the new memory care facility in Savannah. Maeve had peeked into her room a little later when he was packing and told him all about his mom clapping and tapping her feet to the fiddle music on the porch, and she’d suggested he try playing some of her favorite music . . . and making sure she put her hearing aids in. He’d said he would, and then she’d finally asked him about the boy in the photo. Will had told her that the boy was indeed his dad and that he’d been killed in World War II before he’d had a chance to marry his mom. He’d also said he couldn’t believe that Bud was the other young man in the photo and said he was eager to meet him.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Gage teased as they neared Atlanta. “You’ve been so quiet.”
She smiled. “Oh, I was just thinking about Bud and Ivy again, and what a small world it is.”
He nodded, squeezing her hand.
“Sooo, are you ready for this?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said with a grin.
“Chase said it’s a very prestigious gallery, and you should be proud.”
“I still can’t believe I got in, never mind Best in Show!”
“I can believe it,” Maeve said. “That drawing of Dutch—with all its intricate detail—the wrinkles, wisps of white hair . . . and those eyes—that see right through you! The judges probably took one look at them and heard him warning them: ‘You better pick my grandson!’”
“Maybe,” Gage said. “He does have a way of getting his way.”
“I’m so glad I got to meet him . . . and everyone in your family.”
Gage looked over. “I’m glad, too. I know they loved you . . . and Dutch definitely approves.”
Maeve smiled. “We’ll have to have the wedding soon so he can be there.”
Gage nodded. “I’m going to be busy getting ready for the show—the gallery wants to have it in the spring—so I don’t know when I’ll have time to plan a wedding.”
“You have a lot of pieces already,” she said, “and they’re going to take care of all the framing—which is nice.”
“It is nice, but I’d like to do some new drawings, too.”
“You’ll have time,” Maeve assured him. “And between your mom, my mom, and Macey and Harper, we can plan the wedding, and you’ll just have to stay up late, drawing, and not fooling around so much.”
“But I love fooling around,” he teased, squeezing her thigh.
“Well, which do you love more—fooling around . . . or having a one-man show in a prestigious gallery in a hip section of Atlanta?”
“Both,” he said, laughing.
“Oh, well, you can’t have everything,” she teased.
“I can’t?” he asked, sounding wounded.
Maeve smiled. “Chase did an awesome job with your website, too.”
“He did. It’s very professional.”
“I bet it’ll get a lot of traffic after today.”
“Maybe,” he said, as he turned off the hi
ghway.
“Ben’s gonna have to start looking for a replacement for you.”
“Yeah, right,” he said, laughing. “That’s not happenin’ for a while. Speaking of Ben, are they still coming? It’s an awfully long ride . . .”
“They are, but Harper had a soccer game this morning. They were going to have her go to the game with a friend, but she said she’d rather miss her game than your opening.”
Gage nodded and looked over curiously. “Did you two ever start your new book?”
“We did,” Maeve confirmed.
“Which one did you pick?” he asked, knowing they’d been considering several titles.
“Harper chose My Side of the Mountain . . . so we’re leaving ten-year-old, strong-willed female protagonists behind and embarking on the wilderness frontier with a fourteen-year-old boy named Sam,” Maeve reported with a smile.
Gage nodded approvingly. “I read that trilogy when I was younger. What does she think so far?”
“Well, she’s an animal lover so she thinks it’s awesome, of course.”
Gage laughed. “Hopefully, she doesn’t decide to set off into the wilderness looking for a peregrine falcon.”
“I hope not,” Maeve said, chuckling.
“Did they ever make a movie from that book?” he asked, looking puzzled.
“They did,” Maeve confirmed.
“Maybe I can watch it with you since I already read the book.”
“Maybe,” Maeve teased. “We’ll take it under consideration.”
Gage laughed. “Okay, so who else is coming today?”
“Everyone,” she said.
He frowned. “Everyone?”
“My parents are on their way home from vacationing in Virginia, Chase and Liam are bringing your mom, and Mason and Ali are coming, too . . . since they both go to school right there.”
Gage nodded. They’d all had the chance to meet Mason and his girlfriend at a cross-country meet two weeks earlier, and Gage had been impressed by Maeve’s son—especially when he had learned he was in the ROTC program and planning to go into the air force.
“It’s funny how everything has fallen into place,” Maeve said, remembering how, when Gage had finally gone through the mail after being in Tennessee for several days, he’d found the letter informing him that his entry into the art show, which he hadn’t told her about, had won top honors—and how the gallery hoped he would be able to attend the opening.
“It is,” Gage said, knowing, deep down, that the lyrics of the Garth Brooks song that had always made his grandfather cry had also been inspiration for him to enter—he’d definitely chanced the rapids . . . and dared to dance the tide!
“I wonder if your dad is pulling some strings in heaven,” Maeve mused.
Gage looked over and smiled. “I bet he is—it would be just like him.”
With Heartfelt Gratitude . . .
TO MY EDITOR, REBECCA RASKIN, AND MY AGENT, ELIZABETH COPPS, FOR their thoughtful guidance, positive critiques, and patient encouragement. I couldn’t do it without you!
To the entire Harper Perennial team, who have all worked so hard to make Promises to Keep the best it can be.
To my husband, Bruce—whose wonderful, funny, loving traits are the inspiration for so many of the male characters in my books; and to our sons, Cole and Noah, and our lovely daughter-in-law, Leah, who fill our hearts with joy, and who endlessly cheer me on. God truly blessed me when he gave me all of you!
To the Wonderful Women of the Congregational Church of Brookfield, with whom I have the privilege of spending every Monday morning. Together, we learn, inspire, share struggles, celebrate joys, and pray in earnest.
To all my family, friends, and fans, who faithfully buy, read, and enthusiastically spread the word about my books. It’s your support that makes it possible for me to follow my dreams.
To our noble, solemn black Lab, Finn, who I can always count on to make sure I don’t spend too much time sitting at my desk and get plenty of fresh air and exercise.
And to my heavenly Father above, who continues to bless me beyond measure!
P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
About the Book
* * *
Maeve’s Chocolate Chess Pie
About the Author
* * *
Meet Nan Rossiter
Read On
* * *
Have You Read? More by Nan Rossiter
Reading Group Guide
About the Book
Maeve’s Chocolate Chess Pie
Ingredients
1 cup sugar
4 Tbs. unsweetened cocoa powder
1 5-oz. can evaporated milk
¼ cup softened butter
1 tsp. vanilla
2 beaten eggs
¾ cup chopped pecans (optional)
9-inch unbaked pie crust
Confectioner’s sugar, for dusting
Whipped cream, for serving
Directions
PREHEAT THE OVEN TO 325 DEGREES.
OVER MEDIUM HEAT, MIX TOGETHER THE FIRST FIVE ingredients until the chocolate is blended and smooth.
WHILE CONSTANTLY STIRRING THE EGGS IN A SEPARATE BOWL, slowly add ½ cup of the hot pie mixture. When blended, add the egg mixture into the pot, continuing to stir. It will thicken immediately.
BLEND IN THE PECANS (IF DESIRED) AND POUR INTO THE prepared pie shell.
PROTECT THE PIE CRUST WITH FOIL OR A METAL PIE CRUST shield, and bake for one hour or until set.
LET COOL FOR ANOTHER HOUR AND SPRINKLE LIGHTLY WITH confectioner’s sugar. Serve with whipped cream. Yum!
About the Author
Meet Nan Rossiter
NEW YORK TIMES AND USA TODAY bestselling author NAN ROSSITER loves to weave together stories about the complicated relationships to which all readers can relate—motherhood, sisterhood, friendship, marriage, and romance. She draws from her own life experiences to create authentic situations that mirror the trials and triumphs we all face. Compassionate, real, and funny, her books take readers on emotional journeys that often include heartbreak and joy, but also include threads of faith, a furry friend or two, and an uplifting ending. Nan’s books have been highly acclaimed by reviewers from Publishers Weekly to Booklist. Her novel Summer Dance was the 2018 winner of the Nancy Pearl Award.
Nan is a graduate of the Rhode Island School of Design and began her writing career in the world of children’s books. Along with her many contemporary fiction novels, Nan is also the author/illustrator of several books for children, including Rugby & Rosie, winner of Nebraska’s Golden Sower Award, and The Fo’c’sle: Henry Beston’s “Outermost House.”
Nan lives on a quiet country road in Connecticut with her husband and a solemn black Lab named Finn, who diligently watches her every move and can be roused from a slumber in a distant room by the sound of a banana being peeled or a cookie crumb hitting the floor. Nan and her husband are the parents of two handsome sons who have struck out on life journeys of their own.
For more information, please visit www.nanrossiter.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter, or follow her on Goodreads, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @NanRossiter.
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Read On
Have You Read? More by Nan Rossiter
THE GIN & CHOWDER CLUB
* * *
Set against the beautiful backdrop of Cape Cod, The Gin & Chowder Club is an eloquent, tender story of friendship, longing, and the enduring power of love.
The friendship between the Coleman and Shepherd families is as old and comfortable as the neighboring houses they occupy each summer on Cape Cod. Samuel and Sarah Coleman love those warm months by the water, the evenings spent on their porch enjoying gin and tonics, good conversation, and homemade clam chowder. Here they’ve watched their sons, Isaac and Asa, grow into fine young men, and watched, too, as Nate Shepherd, aching with grief at the loss of his first wife, finally found lov
e again with the much younger Noelle.
But beyond the surface of these idyllic gatherings, the growing attraction between Noelle and handsome, college-bound Asa threatens to upend everything. In spite of her guilt and misgivings, Noelle is drawn into a reckless secret affair with far-reaching consequences. And over the course of one bittersweet, unforgettable summer, Asa will learn more than he ever expected about love—the joys and heartaches it awakens in us, the lengths we’ll go to keep it, and the countless ways it can change our lives forever.
“Eloquent and surprising . . . I loved this story of faith, love, and the lasting bonds of family.”
—Ann Leary, author of The Good House
“Nostalgic and tender . . . summons the passion of first love, the pain of first loss, and the unbreakable bonds of family that help us survive both.”
—Marie Bostwick, New York Times bestselling author
WORDS GET IN THE WAY
* * *
From the author of The Gin & Chowder Club comes an exquisitely heartfelt and uplifting novel that explores the infinite reach of a mother’s love—and the gift of second chances.
The modest ranch house where Callie Wyeth grew up looks just as she remembers it—right down to the well-worn sheets in the linen closet. But in the years since Callie lived here, almost everything else has changed. Her father, once indomitable, is in poor health. And Callie is a single mother with a beautiful little boy, Henry, who has just been diagnosed with autism.
Returning to her family’s quiet New Hampshire community seems the best thing to do, for the sake of both her father and her son. Even if it means facing Linden Finch, the one she loved and left, for reasons she’s sure he’ll never forgive. Linden is stunned that Callie is back—and that she has a son. Yet in the warm, funny relationship that develops around Henry and Linden’s menagerie of rescued farm animals, Callie begins to find hope. Not just that her son might break through the wall of silence separating him from the world, but that she too can make a new start amid the places and people that have never left her heart . . .
