Any Luck at All

by Denise Grover Swank

  “No way,” she guffawed, “she took it with her?”

  “Nope, but my aunt personally dropped it off at her apartment.”

  Another round of laughter.

  “Oh, you really can’t make this stuff up,” she said. And wasn’t that the truth.

  Maisie sobered. “I take it you brought Georgie back here after that fiasco as a mood lifter.”

  She raised her eyebrows up and down, but something felt forced about it, like maybe she was still worried about him.

  “Not like you’re thinking,” he said, stacking his plate on top of hers. “We really were working most of the afternoon, but there’s just something there, you know? I’ve never felt this kind of connection with a woman before.”

  She looked away, and for a second she was quiet, almost like she was trying to think of a polite way to say he’d totally blown his biggest career opportunity. He was steeling himself for it, but when she turned back, she said, “Gee, you really know how to make a girl feel important.”

  “Oh, you know what I mean,” he said, nudging her shoulder playfully. “I obviously think the world of you, but you’re basically family. It’s different.”

  She was quiet again for a beat, and then she said, “Are you sure you’re not doing this to sabotage yourself?”

  Ah, there it was.

  He took a moment to consider it, because he had sabotaged himself before. More than once. But the way he felt with Georgie—it was the opposite of self-destructive. She was one of the most extraordinary people he’d ever met, and yet she didn’t make him feel like less of a person for it, or like he had to change to impress her. And even if they could only be friends, he would feel damn privileged to have a friend like her.

  Even if he’d spend every minute near her desperately and painfully wanting her.

  “No, Maisie,” he said at last, “this is real.” He paused, then added, “I think you’ll like her.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” she said in a huff, catching him off guard. Her eyes glimmered with something like pique.

  “Why’s that?” he asked. Surely she hadn’t gotten a bad impression from less than thirty seconds of conversation. If this was about the kiss…well, that was his bad. He genuinely had forgotten Maisie was supposed to come over.

  She shrugged. “Mostly I’m worried you’ll get hurt. What if she fires you over this?” She paused, thinking. “Besides, doesn’t it bug you that these people are going to take credit for your work? I mean, from what you said, none of them knows the first thing about beer. Sure, Georgie knows business, but that’s not one-size-fits-all. They couldn’t do this without you.”

  He gave her a look. “Didn’t you just get done saying she might fire me? Because she kissed me?”

  She made a choked sound. “She kissed you?”

  “Let me guess, does that somehow make it worse?” He was beginning to get a little annoyed. Sure, the situation wasn’t ideal—and the fact that Georgie had just left like that made it a whole lot less ideal—but he could use a little support.

  “Well, let’s just say you might have a good case for sexual harassment.”

  “Seriously? Maybe we should table this discussion. I can tell we’re not going to see things the same way.” And wasn’t that a twist. They were usually on the same page—and when they weren’t, it was almost always River who was in the wrong. “The Buchanans own that brewery—they deserve to call the shots and hire someone who knows how to make beer. I want them to succeed, and I want to be a part of their success. From what you were saying earlier, I thought you had my back. That you realized how important this is for me.”

  “I do,” she said, reaching out and giving his shoulder a squeeze. Warmth leaked back into her eyes. “And I’m happy for you. On both counts. I just don’t want to see things go south. Sorry, River. Bad day. One of the puppies yacked all over the place, and Dustin kept ducking out of the office because he thought someone was filming a movie over the way. He was sure he’d seen Zendaya. Turned out to be some kids filming themselves skating, but he spent half the day blogging about it. I’m just tired. Why don’t we watch the movie?”

  “Yeah, good idea,” he said, although the thought of the CG cats made him want to shiver.

  They got some more pizza, settled into the couch with Hops tucked between them and started the movie, just like they’d watched a hundred other movies through the years. But their conversation didn’t sit well. What did Maisie have against Georgie and her family? She was usually the most accepting person he knew. It didn’t seem like her, although he understood what she’d said about having a bad day. That could put anyone in a mood.

  About ten minutes in, the horror of what he was watching stole over every other thought and emotion. Hops seemed to agree, because he gave a whimper and stole off to curl up on his sandal. A few minutes later, River looked at Maisie in disbelief.

  “Did you know it would be like this?” he asked.

  She gave him a look that was a little too serious to be, well, serious. “I think they were robbed at the Oscars.”

  He threw a pillow at her. “You chose this to punish me.”

  “No,” she said, laughing, “I chose it because it’s hilarious. This must be the most unintentionally hilarious movie of all time. Fifty years from now, you’ll be telling people where you were when you saw Cats.”

  “You do realize that by forcing me to watch this, you also have to watch it.”

  “Oh, it’s worth it,” she said.

  And maybe it was, because they spent the next agonizing hour and a half laughing and joking as if nothing had happened between them.

  When Maisie left, she gave him a hug. “Sorry again about earlier,” she said. “I know I got all weird and mama dog on you.”

  “No need to apologize,” he said, and meant it. “Everyone’s entitled to their moods, and their opinions.”

  “I’ll check in about Hops tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good. Maybe he’d like to see his brothers and sisters again soon.”

  “Sure, as long as the rest of them don’t start yacking. I don’t want to leave you with a sick puppy on your hands.”

  After she left, the apartment felt aggressively empty, even with Hops, and River found himself staring at his phone. Maybe he should text Georgie. Not to pressure her or confront her about anything. He could keep things light, tell her about the movie. Warn her away from it, as it were. It would be an excuse to reach out, and he found he very much wanted one.

  He was reaching for the phone when the text alert went off. For a second his spirits lifted, like he was Hops when presented with a bowl full of food, but a quick glance revealed it was Aunt Dottie, not Georgie. Because of course it wasn’t Georgie.

  He unlocked the phone to see it was a text message, and was taken aback to realize it wasn’t just to him—she’d also sent it to Georgie, Jack, and two other numbers.

  Please join me at Beau’s house on Sunday at 7 p.m. for a séance. I sense Beau has a very important message for you, my dear Buchanans. I’ll set up video conferencing for those of you who are unable to join us in person. I fear you’ll be unable to partake in the thematic meal I’m preparing, but we’ll be sure to show you everything on the video feed. Until then. Namaste, your friend Dottie.

  What in the world was she planning now?

  Chapter Nineteen

  After returning to her hotel on Friday night, Georgie got an alert reminding her to check in for her flight.

  Damn it. She’d meant to change the flight to next week, but all of the space in her mind had been occupied with the brewery debacle and River, and she’d completely forgotten. Something that was quite unlike her. But after a few moments’ reflection, she decided to fly home after all. She only had a few changes of clothes, and if she was moving to Asheville, she needed more of her personal belongings. Besides, after the way her evening had ended with River, a couple of days away seemed like a good idea. So instead of canceling it, she booked a flight back
to Asheville on Sunday afternoon, early enough that she could get a good night’s sleep before (hopefully) having a fresh start on Monday.

  But when she landed in Boston early Saturday afternoon, she turned her phone on and found a string of texts between her siblings.

  Lee: Does she really expect us to “attend” this thing on Sunday night?

  Adalia: Relax, Junior. It’ll be fun

  Lee: Victoria and I have dinner reservations at Geoffrey’s.

  Adalia: Of course you do

  Lee: What’s that supposed to mean?

  Adalia: That you’re too pretentious for your own good. Mom would want you to “attend”

  Lee: That’s bullshit and you know it.

  Adalia: Do I? …do YOU???

  Adalia: Georgie, is Jack going to this thing?

  What on earth were they talking about?

  She was about to ask them when she scrolled down and saw Dottie’s text. She could have sworn it hadn’t been there that morning when she’d texted her friend Meredith saying she’d be home for less than twenty-four hours for the last time in who knew how long. Meredith had texted that she and her newest boyfriend had left for Nantucket the night before. She wouldn’t be back until late Sunday night, she’d said, but Georgie owed her an explanation on Monday.

  There were no texts from Jack, not even in response to Dottie’s message. He hadn’t tried to contact her since his abrupt departure the day before…had it only been a day? So much had happened since their short-lived tour of the brewery.

  She texted back, No. Jack went back to Chicago to wrap up some personal things so he’ll be able to devote his attention to the brewery. No need to tell them he might be gone for a month or more. She was sure Lee would give her flak for that. Or tell their father.

  Thinking about the brewery made her think about River. Why had she gone and ruined everything and kissed him? Twice. Now there was the potential for things to be mega awkward between them, not to mention it could prove to be an HR nightmare. If she had any HR employees. But even though Lee would leap to the possibility of some sort of complaint, she knew it wasn’t an issue. River was no liar, and she hadn’t made an unwanted pass at him. In fact, his response proved he’d felt no obligation to respond. But respond he had, and in a way she would never forget.

  The heat of the kiss filled her again, as powerful as if she’d just left his apartment, that inner fire fanned by the thought of where things might have gone if they hadn’t been interrupted by Maisie, making her entire body flush as she flagged down a taxi to take her to her condo.

  “You need me to turn down the a/c?” the middle-aged driver asked once she was settled on the back seat with her purse and her overnight bag. “You’re looking a little hot.”

  Getting caught thinking naughty things about River made her flush even more. “Um…no thanks, I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he watched her in the rearview mirror. He pulled a small photo from his visor and held it up for her to see the middle-aged woman. “My Nina gets hot flashes all the time, and I’d rather turn the car into an icebox than have you strip off your clothes.”

  Georgie’s mouth dropped open, unsure which part of his statement to take offense at—his supposition that she might be menopausal, something that especially chafed given she’d discovered she was at least three years older than River, or his worry that she’d strip in the back of his car. “I think I’ll be able to restrain myself.”

  “You sure?” he asked again as he pulled away from the curb. “They hit my Nina right out of nowhere, and boom, the next thing you know, she’s taking off her clothes. Last weekend at Mass, Nina was walking down the aisle to take Communion when a hot flash hit her. One minute, she’s standing there, her head bowed and her hands folded together in silent reflection as she contemplated receiving the Body of Christ, then the next thing you know, she was standing there in her bra and granny panties and fanning herself with the church bulletin. We had a devil of a time trying to explain it to Father Timothy.” He shot her a serious look in the mirror. “She had to say six Hail Marys and promise to run bingo for the next six weeks.”

  “Um…” she stuttered, trying to figure out how to purge the image of Nina stripping in church. Having seen her face made it more difficult. “Sure. Turn it down.” The way she’d been behaving recklessly and out of character…perhaps she would do something as crazy as take off her clothes.

  But River’s kiss stayed with her, and she reached her fingers to her lips, savoring the memory. She’d never been kissed like that before. And of course, it had to be the one man who was off-limits.

  Of course, she couldn’t let it happen again. On Monday morning, she’d take River into her office and apologize, telling him she regretted her behavior. It was unprofessional and the brewery would be in a world of hurt if they went forward with a romance and things ended badly.

  When she got back to her apartment, she drowned her sorrows in too much wine, telling herself she was drinking it because she had no idea when she’d be back, and the bottle was too good to go to waste. But she found herself comparing it to the beer flight River had set up at Beau’s house…and thinking about the moment he’d almost kissed her that night. She hadn’t imagined that, right?

  No more thoughts about River. You need to focus on saving that failing business, not finding a boyfriend. Because business always trumped personal, a lesson her father had taught her at an early age.

  Despite her copious wine consumption, she managed to pack three suitcases of clothes and personal effects and made arrangements with the management of her condo to have someone drop by her unit to check on it from time to time and notify her if her mail wasn’t being forwarded. The building manager had also agreed to hand her car keys over to the transport company she planned to hire on Monday. She’d have to figure out what to do with her condo and her belongings, but Beau’s house was fully furnished and she didn’t want to put so many things in storage. She’d let it sit for now, and figure it out later.

  She took occasional breaks from packing to take a deeper dive into the accounting for the brewery, which was what her sister Adalia would mockingly call a Georgie kind of break. It was not necessarily a good idea given how much she was drinking, but she didn’t have to be sober to see the brewery was genuinely in trouble. It wasn’t the employees’ fault they were closing temporarily, and Georgie didn’t want to start from scratch, which meant she’d have to come up with enough cash to pay their salaries, even if at a slightly reduced rate, until they reopened.

  Her flight on Sunday was delayed, and she sat next to a screaming baby from Boston to Charlotte, which didn’t help her raging hangover headache. Then she was put at the back of the plane to Asheville, next to a toilet that became clogged about five minutes after takeoff.

  So by the time she drove her new rental car to Beau’s house, she was bordering on cranky and considering another night at the hotel to avoid dealing with Dottie’s nuttiness. Only Adalia had texted during her Boston flight that she was really looking forward to the séance and she was 93.4% sure Lee would be there too.

  93.4%? Georgie texted in reply on the tarmac at Charlotte.

  Don’t question it, Georgie. Just trust me. I can’t wait for you to taste the specially planned menu and describe it to me

  Georgie was so hungry, she was looking forward to it too. Everything Dottie had left in Beau’s fridge had been delicious. It was the séance part that worried her.

  Her other concern—being alone with Dottie—was quickly overshadowed when she saw River’s car parked on the street. There were a bunch of other cars too, but in the short time she’d been in Asheville, she’d learned that parking came at a premium and it wasn’t unusual to see cars parked on the street. But it was River’s car that had her on edge. Had Dottie invited him too? Once she parked the car in the driveway, she opened the text, and sure enough, River’s number was at the end of the list.

  After she put on the
parking brake, she got out and wrestled all three suitcases out of the trunk. She could wait and ask River for help, but it didn’t seem like a good idea—or very fair—to ask him for favors, so she decided to try to carry them to the front porch herself. She backed the two slightly smaller bags together, one pressed against the other, and grabbed the handles in one hand while balancing her overnight bag on top of them, her purse slung over her shoulder. Her other hand maneuvered the bigger suitcase. It might have worked out if the driveway hadn’t been on a hill.

  She’d made it to the porch steps when her purse slipped around and knocked into the hand holding the two suitcases. Her fingers flexed as pain shot through her knuckles, and the bags broke free, rolling down the driveway. She tried to chase after them, while still holding the other suitcase and overnight bag, but the wheel of the big suitcase caught on a small rock and overturned, sending the bag flying into the yard.

  Georgie heard a crash and turned just in time to see one of the smaller suitcases get smashed under the wheel of a large Buick that looked like it came straight out of a ’70s police show. The other was nowhere to be seen. At least one of them had made it.

  The car tried to back up, but the tire was stuck on the suitcase. It rocked back and forth, trying to work itself free.

  “Georgie?” she heard River call out behind her. She was surprised at the panic in his voice. “Are you okay?” he asked as he stopped beside her.

  She ignored the flutters in her stomach when she saw him. “I’m okay, but my suitcases…” she cried out in dismay. “I lost two of them. One of them is under that car, but I don’t know where the other one is.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find it,” he said. She presumed he was trying to sound reassuring, but he hadn’t quite hit the mark. Not that she blamed him. The bag under the tire was nearly completely smashed flat. No coming back from that.

  That was the bag holding her cosmetics, her blow drier, and curling iron.