Any Luck at All

by Denise Grover Swank

  The car’s engine revved and the vehicle finally broke free, shooting backward. A loud crashing sound filled the air. The smashed suitcase had been freed, but the car appeared stuck again.

  “I think we found your other bag,” River said with a grimace, sneaking a glance at her.

  They walked down the driveway together, their view of the mess partially obscured by a car in the street, but when they reached the edge of the driveway, Georgie gasped. Underwear and bras were lying on the street, on the parked cars, on the side of the road. A blue bra hung from a tree branch on the side of the road.

  Josie got out of the car and stared at the mess with a look of wonder. A breeze kicked in and a silky pair of black panties blew up off the road and hit Josie smack in the face. She peeled it away, beaming as though she’d just won the lottery. “When my horoscope said good fortune would rain on me today, I never suspected it would be underwear.”

  Georgie stared at her in shocked silence. Every piece of lingerie she owned—other than what she was wearing—was scattered all over Flint Street. In front of River.

  “I know this is bad,” River said in a calm voice. “I’m sure not everything is ruined.”

  Josie left her car door open and squealed as she started picking up clothing off the bushes. “It’s like an Easter egg hunt!”

  Georgie looked up at River. “Josie was invited to the séance.”

  It wasn’t a question since the answer was so obvious.

  Hesitation filled his eyes. “Aunt Dottie said she and Lurch had unfinished business with Beau.”

  “Lurch is here too.” She shook her head as her gaze shifted back to Josie, who was looping her arms through Georgie’s panties like they were bracelets. “Of course he is.”

  “Georgie…”

  “Is there alcohol at this séance?” she asked. “Because I need lots and lots of alcohol.”

  River turned to stare at Josie, then back to Georgie. “Well, there’s beer, of course, and my aunt’s elderberry wine.” He hesitated, then added, “And she said she was making punch.”

  “Punch?”

  “Pineapple and orange juice, champagne, and beer.” He hesitated again. “Fair warning… Aunt Dottie’s calling it Lurch’s Pee Brew.”

  Georgie stared up at him and the absurdity of it all hit her head-on. She began to laugh, breaking out into hysterical giggles that put a stitch in her side.

  River watched her first in horror, then in concern, and then finally his mouth twisted into an amused grin.

  “I won!” Josie exclaimed, waving both arms—one lined with panties and the other with bras.

  Georgie stopped laughing.

  River’s smile fell. “I’ll deal with this, Georgie. You go on inside.”

  She didn’t respond, just headed for the front door, leaving her other suitcase and overnight bag in the yard. They weren’t going anywhere…unless Josie decided to plow through the yard with that monster car of hers.

  Georgie had no idea what to expect when she walked through the door, but nothing could have prepared her for the sideshow in front of her.

  “I need some of Lurch’s Pee Brew,” she called out on the way to the dining room. “Stat.”

  Chapter Twenty

  It had been no more than forty-eight hours since River had last seen Georgie, but what a forty-eight hours. Since sending him an invitation to the séance, Aunt Dottie had followed up with no less than thirty texts asking him to do various tasks in preparation. A few of them had seemed to have no obvious connection to the event, and he feared the moment when their usefulness would come into clarity. In between brainstorming recipes for the rest of the Buchanan beers, he’d done his aunt’s errands, all of them, because even if she was a little, well, dotty, he loved her with all that he was and she was mourning in her own way.

  The first and easiest of the tasks had been to set up the video conferencing. Apparently she did not, in fact, know how to do that and had been relying on him to make the arrangements. Maisie had a big flat-screen computer she’d donated to the cause, large enough for all of the Buchanans to take part. Maisie had gotten an invitation too—because apparently his aunt had been feeling pretty free with them—but she’d declined. The way she’d done it, averting her eyes, had made River wonder if it was because of the awkward moment they’d had on Friday night. He’d tried to encourage her to come anyway, but he hadn’t tried too hard, truth be known. And not just because she’d agreed to puppysit for Hops to ensure he didn’t destroy the entire apartment.

  Truth was, he was hoping for a chance to talk to Georgie. Privately. In the midst of what was sure to be a madhouse.

  Scratch that, it was already a madhouse. Georgie’s plastic suitcases had broken open like piñatas, and some of the sexiest yet classiest lingerie he’d ever seen was strung on Josie’s arms.

  Good God. Why couldn’t he have seen them on Georgie instead?

  Although he’d barely had a free minute to breathe all weekend, he’d found himself remembering the feel of her every night.

  “It’s a sign, River,” Josie said confidently once Georgie disappeared inside the house.

  “That you need a new car?” he murmured, his eyes lingering on the door. “Any one of us could have told you that.”

  “No, I mean it’s a sign Beau changed his mind.” He turned to her in annoyance, and she gave him a serious look through her oversized glasses.

  “Is this because they fired you?”

  She tilted her chin up, as if to say she wouldn’t deign to respond to his question. The gesture drew attention to her hat.

  “Are you wearing a witch’s hat?” he asked in disbelief. It was mostly a normal size, but it came to a slight point, marked by a sequined star.

  “Yes,” she said, reaching up to touch it. “Thank you for noticing. But consider this. On Friday, the whole brewery was full of bubbles, and the tanks were contaminated. Today, Georgie’s suitcases exploded in front of the house. What does that mean to you?”

  He sighed deeply. “Josie, you were directly responsible for two of those things. If it’s a sign of anything, it’s that the Buchanans should stay away from you.”

  He reached out for the underwear and bras, and she handed them over with a bit of a pout.

  “Just wait,” she said, “Dottie knows Beau has something to say, and I think he’s going to surprise us all.”

  God help him.

  She made her way to the house, and River headed down to look at the damage, Georgie’s panties and bras cradled in his arms.

  The bags were both unsalvageable, and one of them was full of goop from what looked like a bunch of burst bottles, but he gathered together what he could from the “Easter egg hunt” and put it in a couple of cardboard boxes he had in his trunk. He stowed the busted bags in the back seat, cleaning up the mess as much as he could with what he had on hand. While he knew Georgie would be staying at the house, he had a feeling she wouldn’t want everyone gawking at her things. It wasn’t until he finished that he let himself look at one of the silk panties. Printed into the silk was Moon Goddess. Huh, so they made underwear too. Sexy underwear. It was all kinds of hot to think of Georgie wearing panties made by her own company.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he dropped the panties like he’d been caught snooping—because he sort of had.

  His heart leapt when he saw it was from Georgie.

  Forget the suitcases, River. PLEASE come back!

  Well, shit. A quick glance at the time told him he’d been gone longer than he’d intended. It was almost seven.

  As soon as he walked through the door, he sucked in a breath. He’d been by earlier to set up the computer for the video conferencing, but his aunt hadn’t decorated for the party yet. His attention immediately shot to the far wall, which was covered in the oversized sheets of cardboard Aunt Dottie had requested. She’d painted it with the letters of the alphabet, all in caps, aligning each with the unplugged Christmas lights tacked to the wall.


  He had to get his aunt to cancel her Netflix subscription.

  The big-screen computer sat directly across from it, on a table high enough to ensure the Buchanans had a good view, both of the wall and the horrifying sculpture beside it. Horrifying not because it wasn’t artistically sound but because it was a life-size model of Beau—nude. Only his anatomy appeared to be carved from a crystal.

  A pink crystal.

  His aunt had never told him she was working on that.

  The dining room table had been pushed to the side of the room, and on it sat a huge bowl of alarmingly yellow Lurch’s Pee Brew, served in a white bowl he’d acquired for Aunt Dottie, which was uncomfortably reminiscent of a toilet. The food she’d prepared was all dark brown or black—“like the earth where he should be at rest” she’d said. His aunt had always been a wonderful cook, but everything other than the brownies looked pretty unappetizing. It didn’t help that each dish had been labeled with the name of the type of dirt that had inspired it.

  He’d urged his aunt not to use real candles—the last thing they needed was for the house to go up in flames—and she’d reluctantly agreed, but the tea lights he’d picked up were arranged everywhere, adding to the glow of her pink salt lamps. There were at least four of those. He even saw a pink salt night-light in the corner. A big box crowded with crystals had pride of placement on a side table constructed from a repurposed barrel. God, maybe he should talk to Aunt Dottie about seeing a therapist.

  He glanced around the room, nodding to a few people he recognized, Tom and Rita and one of Beau’s golfing buddies, pretending all of this was normal, until his gaze found Georgie. She had a glass of the yellow punch in her hand while she talked to Lurch, of all people, overlooking the Ouija board arranged on the coffee table. Perhaps Aunt Dottie was hedging her bets by using every spirit communication method on record.

  Georgie looked up just then, and when they made eye contact, she mouthed, “Help.”

  A strangely buoyant feeling rose in him, and he made his way toward them.

  “It was my idea,” he heard Lurch say proudly as he gestured to the yellow punch. “Figured it’d be better to drink it all down rather than let it turn to vinegar, don’t you think?”

  Georgie set the glass down, looking like she was just this side of vomiting. Before River could interject, someone tugged on his shoulder from behind.

  He turned to look at his aunt, who had donned a long black dress that trailed across the floor and a necklace with a huge crystal pendant. It was pink like the one in Beau’s statue, and he didn’t want to think too hard about what it had been carved to resemble. She had a worried look. “Do you think it’s enough, River?”

  He suppressed a laugh, because she was obviously in earnest. “Aunt Dottie, I’m pretty sure a tenth of this would have been enough. But Beau would have loved every bit of it.”

  And it was true, because Beau had loved Aunt Dottie. He’d always said she kept him from taking life too seriously, something he’d described as a Buchanan trait.

  “Well,” she said worriedly, “we’d better move forward with the crystal selection. We’ll all need to choose one to better communicate with Beau.”

  He glanced back at Georgie, who was now listening to a story about Lurch’s prostate problems with a pained expression. She met his eyes, giving him a get me out of this look. Although he had no idea what this crystal selection entailed, it had to be better than being cornered by Lurch. “Maybe Georgie should go first,” he suggested. “We can pick some for her sister and brothers too.”

  That ought to take a while.

  “Wonderful idea,” Aunt Dottie said, brightening. “I worried they wouldn’t feel included. Should we conference them in now so they can watch everything?”

  “We gave them the number to call,” he said. “I’ll open the meeting and make sure the volume’s high enough, but they’ll dial in when they’re ready.” Although he couldn’t imagine why they’d want to watch their sister pick a few crystals from a box. It seemed like the New Age equivalent of watching paint dry. He’d be surprised if Lee called in at all—the guy didn’t strike him as a good sport, or someone who had a sense of humor.

  He turned around just as Lurch was saying, “Anything can be a toilet if you’re really desperate, is what I’m trying to get across.”

  “Sorry to interject,” he said, “but we need you, Georgie. We have to set up the conferencing so your brothers and sister can call in, plus my aunt’s ready to start…” He paused, working on his straight face. “…the crystal selection.”

  He’d never seen someone jump to their feet faster. “Sorry,” she said back to Lurch, “duty calls.” But she paused and added, “You know, I’m pretty sure there are prescription medications that can help you with that. I’d suggest talking to your doctor.”

  Lurch lit up like one of Aunt Dottie’s lamps. “You know, that might not be a bad idea,” he said, as if no one had suggested it to him before. And maybe no one had. Most people would have probably run out on the conversation right after it started.

  Georgie gave River’s arm a little squeeze when she reached them—a silent thank you that sparked a warm glow inside of him.

  Her hand lingered there, making him wonder where her mind was at after the weekend. Did she still think kissing him was a mistake?

  Did she want to make that mistake again?

  “My stuff?” she asked.

  He pulled a face. “Sorry. I tried to save everything I could, but the suitcases themselves are basically shrapnel. I folded your things into a couple of boxes I had in my trunk. I’ll help you bring everything in after the…” He stopped short of calling it a party. “…thing.”

  “Oh, thank you,” she said, her face flushing. She had to be thinking about just what he’d folded—which made him think about it too. Not that he’d really stopped. He felt his ears burning, and his aunt shot him a knowing look.

  They headed toward the computer together, but Tom waylaid Aunt Dottie.

  He held out his arm, which sported angry-looking scratches. “Dot, that cat’s guarding the bathroom. Won’t let anyone in.”

  “Oh dear, that won’t do. We don’t want Lurch to get any ideas and use the punch bowl,” she said with a wink at Georgie. “I’ll be right back, my dears. Can you make sure the computer’s all set?”

  “Will do, Aunt Dottie. Let me know if you need any help wrangling the beast.” Not that River had a particular talent for that. If Jezebel had been pissed that he and Georgie had intruded on her territory the other night, she had to be a thousand times more on edge tonight. No one had ever accused her of being social. Still, he wasn’t worried about his aunt. She had enough of a way with animals, even that animal, that she’d once convinced Jezebel to wear a Christmas sweater. No one had been able to get it off her, not until it essentially fell off from wear and tear, but the initial accomplishment was still impressive.

  Georgie pulled away her hand, as if only then realizing it was still there. “Thanks, River.” She paused. “For dealing with the mess, and for saving me with Lurch back there.”

  “Don’t thank me just yet,” he said. “We still don’t know what the crystal ceremony entails.”

  Her mouth quirked up. “Just how much were you involved in the preparations for this?” She waved a hand, indicating the insane display in what was now her living room. Yeah, he probably should have warned her.

  “Directly? Not much. But enough to know she’d gone a little over the top.” His eyes combed the room again. “Okay, massively over the top. I’m sorry, Georgie. I should have called or texted you about this, but I figured you wanted space. I honestly didn’t mean to encourage her. I just thought all of this might help her feel better.”

  Sadness welled in her eyes, and she touched his arm again, in that same spot. He wondered if her touch would be seared there, if he’d feel it always from now on. He hoped so.

  “You don’t need to apologize for being a good nephew. Besides, my sister said th
ere’s a 93.4% chance Lee will call in, and I absolutely want to see his face when he gets a look at all of this.”

  His smile spread wider. “Will you think less of me if I say I feel the same way?”

  “You may be perfect,” she said softly, “but you’re only human.” Then she smiled at him again and made her way to the computer, leaving him with the glow of having been called perfect—again—by a woman like her. Even if it was far from true.

  When he joined her there, he started up the meeting, something that only took a matter of clicks given he’d already set everything up. Adalia connected instantly, so she must have been waiting on them. She had on a paint-splattered black T-shirt, and her hair had been pulled back in two short French braids.

  Her face stretched into a huge grin when she saw them—only she wasn’t really looking at them, but at the statue of Beau and the insane wall of letters behind it.

  “Hi, Georgie. Hi, River. Oh, this is even better than I thought,” she said. “Did Dottie make that?” Her expression had been teasing, but she tilted her head a little, studying it—her attention drifting up to Beau’s sculpted face. Some of the humor dripped away. “Wow, she’s really good! I had no idea your aunt was an artist.”

  “And I would be thrilled to create art with you one day, my dear. I see it in our cards,” Aunt Dottie said, joining them. River wasn’t sure whether she meant it literally. With her, there was simply no way to tell. “Soon, I think.” Her gaze darted around the screen before landing on River. He shrugged, indicating the other two hadn’t yet called in. “I’m afraid we’ll have to start the crystal ceremony without your brothers,” Aunt Dottie said, “but you can tell them all about it.”

  “Oh, I will,” Adalia said, grinning again. “You can be sure of it.”

  River was about to ask about Jezebel’s whereabouts, but he caught sight of her on the food table, eating a dish of something brown. The people who’d been standing around the table had backed up in a protective circle, and it was obvious no one intended to stop her.