PROMISES TO KEEP is the second in a series called Savannah Skies and returns us to Tybee Island off the Georgia coast, where we left off from the first book, PROMISES OF THE HEART. I greatly enjoyed that story about Macey Lindstrom and was happy to revisit that character in PROMISES TO KEEP. Our main guide is Maeve Lindstrom, a thirtysomething lady working in Willow Pond Senior Care. This is a carefully renovated and repurposed mansion on lakeside property, and I shudder to think what it must cost to join this assisted living facility.
Gage Tennyson is a country lad, from a famous local dairy farm. Sadly, when he wanted to follow artistic paths, his father was outraged, and they have never been on good terms since. This doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. I would think that a web designer and logo poster creator would be extremely useful to the business. Art is all for marketing these days. Gage works for the Lindstrom family as a carpenter, and Macey's younger sister Maeve catches his eye. They’re a similar age, unattached, but where Maeve has been casually renting places for a decade, Gage is tired of moving and wants to buy somewhere on the lake. Maybe they should move in together. Does this have to mean opening up about their family pasts? Well, I think no. Your personal life is private and while it can help to talk out trauma, nobody is owed information about your close relatives. For all Maeve knew, she and Gage were not going to remain an item, as they never discussed marriage.
A great deal of backstory is scattered through the book, echoed by the elder folks reminiscing to anyone who will listen. Animal lovers will find dogs, chickens and more. If you want a gentle tale of how it used to be, plus a lot of detail about daily lives and some formal occasions, you’ll get along fine with the good folks. We have lived through such changes in the past year that many people will just want to sit and read about how we used to live. With several alternating viewpoints and family members, the tale could get confusing if you put it down and come back a few times. The nicest sub-plot for me concerns a young lad keen to buy and restore a vintage car; this is easy to keep track of, nicely linking people and places, because of the car. I kept forgetting how old Maeve and Gage were, because their conduct and fascination with Facebook made them much more like twentysomethings.
Nan Rossiter has a third book promised for us, so if this layered contemporary romance PROMISES TO KEEP sounds enjoyable, with multi-generation characters, start with the first book and keep reading.
Thirty-four-year-old Maeve Lindstrom loves her job at Willow Pond Senior Care. Her older sister Macey thinks Maeve is the only human being on earth who can make working in a nursing home sound like fun. Maeve enjoys being around the sundowners, as she calls them, helping them navigate their senior years—brightening a time that can be, all too often, a lonely, sad stage of life.
Thirty-three-year-old Gage Tennyson—who brings his mischievous yellow Lab, Gus, to whatever restoration job he is working on with Macey’s husband, Ben—loves Maeve with all his heart. He’s a handsome country boy and a true southern gentleman. But as he and Maeve grow closer, they both sense that they haven’t been completely forthcoming about their pasts.
When Maeve realizes Gage might be planning to propose, she knows she must finally be honest with everyone she holds dear. She can no longer live with the secret she’s been dragging around like an anchor, and she knows the only way she will be free to build a lifetime relationship with Gage is to risk everything—including his (and her family’s) love and respect. Before she finds the courage, however, her past comes careening into her life in a shocking and unexpected way.
Excerpt
Balancing a tray of lemonade and warm sugar cookies, Maeve Lindstrom stepped onto the wide front porch of the old farmhouse that had, in its heyday, been home to one of Savannah’s most prominent families. But when the last Atherton—a daughter of whispered ancestry—suffered an untimely death under questionable circumstances, the house—which was already in steady decline, accelerated that decline into utter disrepair. It was years before the abandoned property was purchased by a wealthy anonymous buyer, but it continued to sit empty, and except for the sounds of squabbling raccoons running down the halls, and bullfrogs plucking on loose banjo strings, it was eerily quiet. Finally, after several more years of neglect, a young company that specialized in designing alternative living spaces for seniors saw its potential, bought it at auction, and began the lengthy process of restoration and repurposing. Ben Samuelson and his crew, when they worked on it, jokingly called it A Place for Dad, but when the beautifully carved wooden sign was installed, its official name became known: Willow Pond Senior Care; and the advertising campaign that followed caught everyone’s attention. The hip young marketing team—a group of tech-savvy millennials—knew just how to target their audience. After all, they’d been promoting state-of-the-art facilities up and down the east coast for several years by then, and with the baby boomer generation only getting older, homes for seniors was becoming a booming market. They used words like private, bright, airy, family setting, plow to plate dining, on-site cafés, individualized professional care, and free Wi-Fi, and with high resolution jpegs to match, their campaigns resulted in long waiting lists, even before online applications were available.
“Here you go, ladies and gents,” Maeve announced as she navigated the long line of walkers and canes. Willow Pond was one of the few facilities that didn’t have an on-site café, but it did have Maeve, who, with her friendly smile, sprinkle of cinnamon freckles, and copper red hair, was a ray of sunshine and a blessing to everyone who met her. It also had Tallulah—an affectionate orange tiger cat who swished between chair legs, stretched out in sunny spots, and lifted the spirits of the lonely old souls by curling up on their laps. Willow Pond had the slow, easy, low-country charm to which its residents were accustomed…and it had fresh-baked cookies every afternoon.
Ninety–three-year-old Adeline Hart—who preferred to be called Addie—was not a baby boomer, but a proud member of the Greatest Generation—and parent of the two baby boomers who’d convinced her she’d be happy at Willow Pond—looked up with a start, and then tried to hide the fact that she’d dozed off. “Well, bless your heart. We thought you got lost, dear,” she said in her soft southern drawl.
Maeve held out her tray. “I didn’t get lost, Miss Addie.”
Gladys Warren, who was sitting next to her, cupped her gnarled hand behind her ear. “Who’s lost?” she asked, frowning.
Maeve looked over. “Where’s your hearing aid, Gladys?”
“I don’t know where the maid is. She probably ran off with that handsome beau of hers. Have you seen that boy?” she added with raised eyebrows. “He is a catch!”
Maeve bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “Gladys,” she said, more loudly this time, “I didn’t ask where the maid is. I asked where your hearing aid is.”
Gladys touched her ear and then scrunched her face into a scowl. “I don’t know where that damn thing is. Somebody must’a taken it…again!”
Maeve didn’t argue—she knew it was late in the day. The setting sun was making the old willow tree near the pond cast a long wispy shadow across the lawn, and it was making long confusing shadows cross the minds of some of the seniors. Maeve affectionately referred to her charges as the Sundowners’ Club, and lately, it seemed as if only Addie and the Olivetti twins didn’t suffer the memory-stealing effects of the setting sun.
Addie reached for a cookie. “How come you’re bringing our snack today, child?”
Maeve smiled, appreciating Addie’s moniker for her—it made her feel younger than her thirty-five years and it softened the blow of her self-imposed status as old maid. “Pam had to leave early. Her kids are in a play.”
“Oooh, I loved being in school plays,” Addie mused, her mind taking a turn down memory lane. “Did I ever tell you that’s how I met my Theodore?”
“I don’t think so,” Maeve lied. She loved when the residents regaled her with their favorite old stories, even if she’d heard them before. It made them happy and it made her smile, and besides, she’d recently read an article that touted the mental health benefits of sharing one’s past.
“Well,” Addie said, giddy to have fresh ears to which she could relay one of her fondest memories. “I was assigned the song I’m Wishing—you know that sweet melody from Snow White?”
She started to sing in case someone on the porch was unfamiliar with the famous Walt Disney song, but Gladys interrupted her. “Yes, yes, we know.”
Addie nodded and continued, “Well, my Theo—who was two grades ahead of me—was assigned the prince’s part, One Song—you know that one?” Again, she started to sing, but worried that she wasn’t doing the melody justice, stopped. Oh, what a lovely tenor voice he had…and such a gentle timbre. It was no wonder I fell in lo…”
“I can drink a full glass,” Gladys interrupted, eyeing the half-filled glasses on the tray.
“I know you can,” Maeve said, “but why don’t you start with half? You can always have more.”
Gladys rolled her eyes and mumbled something inaudible, but then took a glass from the tray. “When’s dinner?” she huffed.
“In an hour, so don’t spoil your appetite,” Maeve warned as she made her way around the porch.
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