The Finders Keepers Library

Book 1: Love in Bloom

by Annie Rains

Genres: Family Life; Sagas; Small Town & Rural; Women's Fiction; Clean & Wholesome Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

This heart-warming second chance love story about hope and healing from USA Today bestselling author Annie Rains is perfect for fans of Raeanne Thayne and Jenny Hale!

Release date: April 16, 2024

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 352

Sample

Not all those who wander are lost.

The Fellowship of the Ring, J. R. R. Tolkien

Am I at the correct address?

Savannah Collins was well aware of the phenomenon where houses that had once seemed so big as a child became smaller in adulthood. But her aunt Eleanor’s home wasn’t just smaller than she remembered; it was also overgrown with flowering vines to the point that she could barely make out the house’s mauve-colored siding.

Savannah reached up to press the doorbell but stopped when she noticed a sign hanging in the paned glass window.

NO NEED TO KNOCK. COME RIGHT ON IN.

The invitation took a moment to register. Surely her aunt didn’t just allow people to walk into her home without permission? As Savannah pondered, the door opened, and a girl looked up at her. She was maybe eleven or twelve and had long strawberry blonde hair and big blue eyes. She looked familiar even though Savannah was certain she’d never seen her before.

“Who are you?” The girl cocked her head to one side, looking put off by Savannah’s mere presence. One side of her lip drew up in a snarl. “And what’s with the humongous hat?”

Savannah reached up to touch the wide brim of her hat. Out of habit, she’d taken it off her dashboard before stepping out of her car. There was no cure for lupus but staying away from certain triggers like sun exposure helped. Not that the day was sunny. Instead, clouds had been rolling in for the last hour, creating a thick and stormy gray sky. “I’m Savannah. And you are?”

Instead of answering, the girl said, “Are you here for books?”

Savannah remembered that her aunt had a small library in the garden out back. Savannah’s uncle had built it for Aunt Eleanor many years ago, and neighbors loved to stop by to chat and check out a book. “Actually, I’m here to see Eleanor. She’s my aunt.”

As Savannah waited for the girl to respond or step aside, the stray kitten that Savannah had somehow adopted in the last week wiggled around inside the large straw bag hanging from her shoulder. Savannah couldn’t leave it in the hot car, which is exactly what she’d done with the thirty or so plants she’d traveled with this morning.

Savannah had always had an interest in plants, which was why she’d gone to college to study botany. A lot of good that degree had done her so far in life. Currently, she had a modest online store where she sold plants, and she also ran a vlog and social media page with the same name—Late Bloomer. Those things didn’t pay the bills though. At the moment, nothing was paying the bills.

“Ms. Eleanor is in the kitchen,” the girl said, still not stepping aside. “You weren’t about to ring the bell, were you? Because Ms. Eleanor doesn’t answer the door anymore. Just walk in.”

Savannah shook her head. “What do you mean Eleanor doesn’t answer the door anymore? Why not?”

“I thought you said Ms. Eleanor was your aunt. You don’t really know much about her, do you?”

Ouch. The truth was that Savannah hadn’t kept up with her aunt the way she should have. She’d called, of course, but Eleanor was a widow now. She lived alone. And short of Savannah’s parents, Eleanor didn’t have any other family to check on her.

Done with the conversation, the girl bounded down the porch steps, hugging a paperback copy of Anne of Green Gables to her stomach. The book was worn, and Savannah wondered if maybe it was the same copy that Eleanor had given her to read when she was a similar age. Aunt Eleanor was always doling out summer reading lists when Savannah had come to visit every June and July as a girl.

Growing up, Savannah had spent every summer at Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Aaron’s home here in Bloom, North Carolina. The summer months had always felt magical in a way that Savannah hadn’t experienced since she’d stopped coming at nineteen years old. At twenty-nine, she wondered if it was even possible to feel that childlike magic again. She certainly hadn’t felt anything extraordinary with her ex-fiancé, which told her a lot about the relationship.

Wasn’t true love supposed to feel magical? Or was that just a lie that fairy tales endorsed?

Peering through Eleanor’s open front door, Savannah hesitated before stepping inside. “Aunt Eleanor? Hello? It’s me, Savannah.” When no one immediately called back, worry gathered inside her chest. Eleanor’s home was overrun by books. They were everywhere, covering every surface and piled up on the floor. Her aunt was a retired librarian. She’d always loved to read but her home was usually neat and tidy—never like this. “Hello? Aunt Eleanor?”

“In here!” Eleanor finally called from the kitchen at the end of the hall.

Savannah picked up her pace and found her aunt standing behind the far counter with two mugs in front of her.

“Oh, there you are! I was just about to make some tea. Would you like a cup?” Eleanor asked as if it hadn’t been years since seeing Savannah in person.

Savannah hugged her bag with the contraband kitten to her hip. “A cup of tea would be amazing. Thank you.”

Eleanor pointed at a tall wooden rack near the back door. “Take off your hat.” Her gaze dropped to Savannah’s bag. “And let whatever it is in that tote of yours out to breathe. Poor thing.”

Nothing had ever gotten past Aunt Eleanor.

Savannah nibbled at her bottom lip. “I should have asked if I could bring the kitten with me. I honestly wasn’t sure if I was even keeping her. Fig is a stray. Was a stray.”

“Fig, huh?” Eleanor chuckled softly.

“Short for Figaro,” Savannah explained, although she was certain her aunt knew exactly where the name had come from.

“Pinocchio was one of your favorite stories when you were young. That puppet’s growing nose always made you laugh.” Eleanor watched the black-and-white kitten squirm in Savannah’s arms. “Well, it looks like Figaro decided to keep you. It happens sometimes.”

Yes, it did. And sometimes fiancés decided not to keep the person they’d vowed to love forever.

Savannah stopped her thoughts in their tracks. She was over Randall, she was—even if the way he’d left her still stung. There was no time to dwell on her broken engagement though. Her focus now needed to be on a job that offered a livable income and a place to start over. And she needed both those things ASAP.

She’d had a few interviews, and some had already contacted her to respectfully decline. Coming to Bloom was just a stop on her way home, which, truthfully, was the last place Savannah wanted to go. Her mom would inevitably tell her for the millionth time what a mistake getting her master of science in botany had been, and Savannah’s dad would lament over the cost of college just to buy Savannah a useless degree that left her homeless and jobless.

Please let a job pan out soon.

“I’ll start the kettle to boil and get a saucer of water for your friend. Then we’ll have tea, and you’ll tell me all about what’s new in your life,” Eleanor said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to bore you.” Savannah lowered Fig to the floor. At least Savannah was no longer pet-less. That was something. Although she was sure her parents would have something to say about that as well. They never did enjoy pets when Savannah was growing up. A fish was about the extent of what they’d allowed.

Eleanor glanced back at Savannah, giving her a thoughtful look. Then she raised a finger in the air. “Love is or it ain’t. Thin love ain’t love at all.”

“Toni Morrison. Beloved,” Savannah said without missing a beat. Eleanor had assigned that book to both Savannah and the boy next door the summer after tenth grade.

Eleanor looked pleased. “That’s right. Your breakup with that young man tells me he was nowhere near good enough for you. We should celebrate.”

“Celebrate my broken engagement? I’m not sure I’m there yet, Aunt Eleanor. But maybe we can go out to toast something different. I am up for a drink.” Even though alcohol was on the long list of things Savannah’s rheumatologist had advised against.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so.” Eleanor visibly stiffened. “Everything I need is right here in this cottage.” She placed a saucer of water on the floor beside the fridge, looking on delightedly as Fig padded up to it. After a moment, Eleanor returned to the counter and retrieved two mugs of tea, carrying them to where Savannah was seated on one of her barstools. “Talking to you is a nice change of pace. I usually talk to the roses in the evenings.”

Savannah nearly choked on her first sip of tea. “You talk to the roses?” Okay, now she was concerned. “Do they, um, talk back?” Please say no, please say no.

Eleanor gave her an amused look. “Don’t look at me that way. You were the one who started it, Savannah. Don’t you remember?”

Savannah furrowed her brows as she pressed a hand to her chest. “Me?”

A quiet laugh bubbled off her aunt’s lips. “Oh, yes. You would sit under that rose arbor out back and talk to the roses for hours when you were younger. That’s where I learned to talk to them. Why, you made it look like so much fun.”

Savannah blinked as a fuzzy recollection that could have been a dream came to mind. “I was just a kid.”

Eleanor clucked her tongue. “We could all stand to have more of that childlike innocence if you ask me. I’ve found that the roses are good listeners. Maybe you should give it another try while you’re here.”

That evening, Savannah stepped off the back deck of Eleanor’s house and walked along the stepping-stone path. The air was as sweet as she remembered from spending her childhoods here. It was also heavy with moisture. The soft, barely audible rumble in the sky told her that a storm was brewing.

It would be exactly her luck to get caught in one of Bloom’s summer downpours, she thought as she walked past a wall made of lattice with roses weaving in and out of its openings. It stretched across half the backyard, ending with a deep arbor that had a variety of roses reaching across the structure’s bow. Underneath, there was a garden bench, where Savannah used to sit and read.

It was the ultimate sensory experience. The colors. The fragrant air filling her lungs. The buzz of bees and the sounds of birds. Every year, Aunt Eleanor would give Savannah and the boy next door summer reading lists, and this was where she’d devour books like Bridge to Terabithia, The Secret Garden, and Where the Red Fern Grows. She must have read A Wrinkle in Time half a dozen times sitting under this magical waterfall of roses.

“Have you missed me?” she asked the roses, feeling slightly foolish. “Apparently, you and I used to talk often. We were good friends,” she said. Since she only came to Bloom during the summers, she didn’t have a lot of friends. There were two, mainly: the boy next door and an energetic girl who lived down the street. Then there were these roses. If Savannah’s memory served her, she’d even given some of them names. “I’m not even sure what I’d tell you these days. Maybe that life is a lot harder than I’d realized. It certainly isn’t a fairy tale.”

Love wasn’t a fairy tale either. She was supposed to be getting married this summer but all those plans had shattered when she’d gotten sick earlier this year. Savannah had naively thought her illness might bring her and her ex closer, but instead, it had been a wedge that drove them apart.

Randall had gotten more and more distant, throwing himself into the start of his golf-pro business—the one that Savannah had intended to help him with while keeping her gardening passion on the side. Then one day three months ago, Randall had sat her down.

“It pains me to do this, Savannah,” he’d said with a heavy sigh.

She’d looked at him, suddenly worried. “Do what?”

He had leaned over his knees and clasped his hands in front of him. That’s when she’d noticed he wasn’t wearing the promise ring she’d given him. It was symbolic and meant that Randall would soon be a married man. “This just isn’t going to work.”

Her mind had searched for meaning. Somewhere deep inside she thought she knew exactly what was happening but she was in denial. “What? Your business? Starting up a business is always hard. Don’t—”

“Not the business,” he’d said, cutting her off. “Me and you. I’m an ambitious guy, Savannah. You know that. It’s one of the things you’ve always loved about me.”

She’d nodded numbly, hoping she was wrong about the direction the conversation was heading. “It is.”

“Now that you’re sick, that changes things. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m up for that kind of lifestyle.”

“What kind of lifestyle?” Tears filled her eyes, spilling over onto her cheeks. She hated crying in front of others but this conversation had taken her by surprise. They’d just gone to look at wedding venues the day before. Randall had chosen a prestigious golf course, which she’d only agreed to because she’d wanted him to be happy.

“I’m not up for a life where you’re sick and I have to put my own needs on hold to take care of you.”

For a long moment, she was too stunned to speak. She had lupus. It wasn’t ideal but it didn’t mean her life was anything less. She and her physician had come up with a plan for her to stay healthy. There’d be lifestyle modifications, and yes, there might be times when she was sicker than others, but they could get through this—together. “We can weather this storm. We can do anything, remember?” That’s what he’d always told her.

What he’d meant, she’d discovered after the fact, was that they could weather his storms. Not hers.

Randall stood. To his credit, his facial expression really did look as if he’d gotten a golf swing straight to the head. “I’m sorry, Savannah. I don’t want to get married anymore.”

She’d lost her fiancé, her job as his right hand in their golf business—his business—and her home, all in one fell swoop. “I just need a small break from all the stress,” she told the roses now. “I need someone to throw me a lifeline. Is that too much to ask?”

As if on cue, her cell phone vibrated inside her pocket. She pulled it out and her pulse jumped as she read the screen. She had an email about a job opening she’d interviewed for last month. The position was for an assistant professor in the botany program. It was a long shot, and accepting the position would require her to move to South Carolina, which was maybe a bigger change than she was looking for. But it was employment.

Who am I kidding? There was no way she’d get the job anyway. She wasn’t nearly qualified enough. Most universities wanted their professors to have PhDs these days. Bracing herself for the third rejection this week, she tapped the email and her eyes skimmed quickly.

Dear Ms. Collins,

We are delighted to offer you employment at South Carolina University. Should you accept, the position would begin September 15 of this year, under the terms previously discussed. Please let us know your decision no later than August 1.

Sincerely,

Chancellor Smith

Savannah let out a soft squeal. A job! A new beginning! It didn’t start for a couple of months, which meant she’d still have to stay with her mom and dad for a few weeks, but at least she’d have a plan—something to tell her parents when they openly disapproved of her life choices.

Throwing her head back and her arms out to her side, she did a twirl under the arbor in the same way she used to as a child, watching the colors of the roses swirl above her.

The sound of a branch crunching on the ground stopped her girlish twirling. Dropping her arms, she zeroed in on someone walking down the stone path. He was tall and broad shouldered. It had gotten dark since she came outside and she couldn’t make out anything else about him. “Hello?”

The man headed toward her, his walk slow and deliberate. “Look who finally decided to return to Bloom,” he said, his deep voice rumbling just like the thunder above them.

He stepped into a patch of moonlight, and Savannah gasped at the man’s familiar features. Black hair. Angled jawline. It’d been years since she’d seen the boy who’d lived next door. The one who’d shared the same reading lists from Aunt Eleanor during those long, hot Bloom summers.

Savannah’s heartbeat quickened as he continued walking, stopping once he was standing a couple feet ahead of her. The boy she remembered had always been smiling. The man in front of her now wore a subtle frown, his blue eyes glinting in the moonlight. And, unless she was mistaken, he didn’t look happy to see her.

“Evan Sanders, is that you?”

Life changes in an instant. The ordinary instant.

The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion

Evan had thought he was imagining it when he’d seen Savannah Collins standing under the rose arbor the way she used to when they were younger. He still came out here sometimes to clear his mind, and he often found himself remembering the girl he’d crushed on every summer.

He wanted to be happy to see her right now, but instead, resentment flared in his chest.

After Eleanor’s fall this past winter, Evan had expected Savannah to show up at least to check on her aunt. The accident was months ago though, and as far as Evan had seen, no blood relatives had come to check on his elderly neighbor at all. It was criminal.

“It’s good to see you, Evan.” Savannah’s dark blonde hair was shorter than it had been the last time he’d seen her. She’d kept it midway down her back and braided loosely when they were teenagers. Now her golden locks fell just below her shoulders.

“You too. Although it would have been nicer to see you before now,” he said.

Savannah’s smile faded. “Oh. I, um, well, I guess I’ve been busy.” Her hands came together, and she interwove her fingers, looking nervous but no less beautiful.

“Too busy to check on the aunt who cared for you every summer as a child? Wow.” He shook his head. “That’s not the girl I used to know.”

“Excuse me?” Her brow furrowed over her puzzled expression. “Are you upset with me right now?”

Maybe he was being hypersensitive but family took care of family. When his father had gotten sick, Evan had moved back to Bloom to care for him until he’d died last year. When the mother of his child had unexpectedly passed away in January, he hadn’t hesitated to take full custody of June, despite the objections of her maternal grandmother. Family was the most important thing.

“I call Aunt Eleanor all the time.” Savannah folded her arms over her chest. “And, really, my relationship with my aunt is none of your business.”

“It is my business.” Evan was doing his best to keep his tone neutral. He wasn’t mad at Savannah. Just disappointed. “Eleanor is like family to me, and—”

Thunder punched the quiet of the evening, stopping Evan short and making Savannah jump.

She looked upward for a moment and then back at him as smaller rumbles of thunder filled the air. “Maybe I should go inside.”

Evan nodded, some part of him already regretting this brief interaction. “Eleanor needed her family, Sav. She needed you.”

The little divot of skin between Savannah’s brown eyes deepened. She opened her mouth, but before any words came out, there was another boom. This one was louder and so forceful that the ground vibrated.

Savannah’s hand flew to her chest, which was rising and falling in quick motion. “I should—” A drop of rain hit one of her cheeks and then the other.

More drops splashed across Evan’s forearm. “You should—” Before he had a chance to finish his sentence, the sky broke open.

They were standing under the arbor but rain still made its way through the tiny openings between the roses.

“I need to check on my daughter,” Evan said. “She’s afraid of storms.” He wasn’t sure why he told Savannah.

“You have a daughter?” she asked. “I didn’t know.”

Evan had to read her lips to hear her over the summer storm that had arrived as unexpectedly as Savannah. Once upon a time, he’d wanted to do so much more than read her lips.

“A lot has changed,” he said, wishing he didn’t mean for the worse, in some instances. He couldn’t help being disappointed in her lack of attention to her aunt after her fall last year. Eleanor’s injuries had been serious. The Savannah of his youth would have been here as quickly as possible. He’d once caught Savannah crying her eyes out over a butterfly with a torn wing. She’d been embarrassed when he’d walked up on her but that moment was one that had sealed his first love.

Maybe that was another reason he was upset. After Eleanor’s injury, part of him had been secretly excited at the thought of Savannah returning to Bloom. He was ashamed to even think so selfishly, considering how much pain Eleanor had been in, but he had. It didn’t feel like Savannah had only rejected her family; he also felt rejected.

“Count of three. You run that way and I’ll run home,” he said.

“Just like old times,” Savannah said with a small smile.

His heart thumped uncomfortably against his ribs, the way it had all those years ago.

“Goodbye, Evan.” She seemed to suck in a breath as if she were about to dive underwater, and then she sprinted out from under the rose arbor.

Evan thought he heard her squeal as the rain drenched her in quick order. He was about to run out into the storm as well when he noticed Savannah’s shoe lying on the stone path. It must have fallen off as she’d run. “Savannah! Hey!” He darted into the rain and dipped to grab the gray athletic sneaker. He was about to chase after her when he heard a loud crack directly above him. Instinctively, he knew that a tree was coming down, hard and fast.

Instead of chasing after Savannah, he veered left, in the direction of home, and ran as fast as he could.

Light flashed in the window as Evan sat at his kitchen table an hour later, waiting for the storm to pass. He glanced down the hallway toward June’s bedroom, wondering why she’d kept her door shut all night. She used to come running at the slightest rumble of thunder.

It was a good thing June wasn’t afraid of storms anymore. A positive. He should be glad, but instead, he felt even more like he was losing his baby girl. June had grown up so fast since her mother had died. She’d finished out the school year living with her grandma Margie in California and had officially come to live with Evan last month. The transition hadn’t been easy so far. June was quiet and sullen. And she didn’t keep it a secret that she wanted to return to California to live with her grandmother.

Evan was her father though, and he’d always wanted June to live in Bloom with him. Growing up without a mother himself, however, Evan had been adamant that June live with her mom for most of the year, which left him taking June part-time during the summers. Now she was here to stay but she seemed miserable.

Another flash of light in the window illuminated the drops of rain on the glass. As soon as the storm stopped, Evan planned to walk outside and see what the damage was. He’d already called Eleanor and made sure the tree hadn’t hit her home. It hadn’t; but it had definitely hit the garden. Hopefully the damage would be minor. Eleanor’s backyard was the venue for a wedding that was happening this summer, and after all that the bride-to-be had been through, she deserved a perfect day.

“Dad?”

Evan bolted upright from where he was resting his head on the table and faced his daughter. “Hey. You okay?”

June’s face scrunched up. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He motioned outside the window. “You hate storms.”

. . .