Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set

by Grover Swank, Denise

  “Oh, Addy,” Georgie said through her tears. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  Adalia shook her head, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “Alan had gotten a showing at Michael Roe, a very coveted gallery. He was so secretive about the whole thing, and I had no idea what he was showing. I hadn’t seen him work on anything of note in months. So on a whim, I stopped by to visit the gallery yesterday evening while they were setting up for the opening tomorrow night.” She choked on a sob as she looked up at her sister. “They were my sculptures, Georgie. He’d stolen my art and put his name on it.”

  “Oh, Addy!” Georgie gasped, her mind reeling. “We’ll get an attorney and file an injunction. We’ll stop him from—”

  Adalia’s eyes went dead inside. “There’s no point, Georgie.”

  Then the horrible truth dawned on her. Adalia had vandalized her own art. She scooped her sister into her arms and held on tight. “Addy, I’m so, so sorry.”

  How had it come to this? To Adalia destroying the very thing she’d loved?

  Adalia began to sob. “He told me that I could protest all I wanted, but who would the art world believe? Me, a flighty, twenty-something art school dropout—”

  “Wait. You dropped out of art school?”

  “—or a well-known, revered artist? He said I had no hope of winning. That I should just be grateful he’d thought my work worthy of exposure.”

  Georgie grabbed her sister’s upper arms and leaned back to look at her. “Go back to the part about you leaving art school.”

  “I had over a hundred thousand dollars in student loans. I couldn’t afford the last year.”

  Georgie felt like she was going to be sick. That was partially her doing. If she’d stood up for her sister, her father might have relented. She’d pay off those loans in an instant, but she knew Adalia wouldn’t let her. That suggesting it would be akin to pushing her away. “I’m sorry.”

  “You keep saying you’re sorry, but you have nothing to be sorry for,” Adalia said, sounding exhausted. “You’re not the one who threw paint all over Alan’s exhibits.”

  “You threw paint on them?”

  A wicked gleam filled her eyes. “Every last one.”

  Georgie squeezed her arms, then released her. “As your big sister, I know I should be telling you that we should have handled this legally, but part of me wants to say good for you, except they were your pieces, Addy.” Then a new thought hit her. “Over one hundred thousand dollars?”

  She’d always semi-dismissed Adalia’s art, but it was obvious she was very good. She felt gutted by her own shame.

  Adalia shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. And I’m not sorry. Not for one second. They weren’t mine anymore. They were tainted after Alan claimed them.” She sobered. “Just like I am. I can never go back to New York. My reputation is ruined.”

  Georgie’s heart broke for her. “But what about your art show? The one you were telling me and Lee about?”

  “A lie Alan told me,” she said, tears filling her eyes again. “To keep me too busy to notice what he was doing.”

  Georgie was going to find the best lawyer to destroy Alan Stansworth, but she couldn’t do it until tomorrow. Tonight she was going to baby the crap out of her sister. “I think we need wine. And I have some leftover pizza.”

  “Wine?” Adalia asked with a wry grin. “Shouldn’t we be drinking Buchanan Beer?”

  “About that. There’s plenty I need to tell you too, starting with what really happened in this house after the séance.”

  Adalia’s eyes lit up, like she knew she was about to be the recipient of some high-quality gossip, and they both slid off the bed. But they didn’t get very far before the high-pitched screech of a cat came from the backyard. “Jezebel!”

  “Jezebel?” Adalia asked. “Do I want to know?”

  There was more screeching and the sound of metal clanging against something.

  Georgie made a face. “Something tells me you’re about to find out, whether you like it or not.”

  Chapter 34

  Part of River wanted to text Georgie, just to make sure Adalia had gotten in okay. He felt anxious for her, knowing how badly she wanted things to work out with her sister. He took out his phone to turn on the ringer, something he habitually kept off now that his number was common knowledge, and saw there were several texts from Finn.

  He ticked his hand against the phone, thinking about ignoring them like he had the others, but it had occurred to him earlier, at Eye of the Tiger, that things might not be going so well for Finn. That maybe he was having a hard time too. And sure, he was the one who’d made the decision to sell, but even so…

  He clicked through.

  River, I know you’re mad, man. But I need to tell you something. I think you’d want to hear it from a friend.

  OK, I could practically see the expression on your face when you read that. But I AM your friend, like it or not.

  Holy shit, I just saw Jezebel.

  Another text came through while he read that last one: I’m on the move. Still have that crate from when Maisie suckered me into fostering that tiny dog with the bladder issue. Stay tuned.

  Leave it to Finn to write a book while chasing a cat. Well, there was no ignoring that. Or at least Aunt Dottie would never forgive him if he did, and Beau would probably start showing up in his dreams for not-so-encouraging reasons.

  So he put Hops in his crate and headed over to Flint Street for the second time that night.

  His phone buzzed again on the seat beside him, and when he checked it at a red light, he saw Finn’s latest text: I think she’s heading to Beau’s. Plan is to intercept once she gets there.

  Which meant River would have to go there too. Finn didn’t even know Georgie had moved back in.

  Should he warn her?

  Absolutely, yes. The one party crasher guaranteed to ruin a heartfelt reunion was a pissed-off cat who’d gotten accustomed to a life of freedom. Well, he could only hope the sardines would pacify her.

  He clicked Georgie’s number just as the light changed, putting the call on speaker, but it rang through to her voicemail.

  Hopefully that wasn’t because she was busy chasing Jezebel—or hitting Finn over the head with a cast-iron frying pan. Sure, he was pissed at the guy, but he didn’t want him injured or dead.

  He pulled up in front of Beau’s house later, parking the car behind Georgie’s—at least she’d gotten home safely—although perhaps it would have been better if she and Adalia had gone out somewhere. He’d only just set the emergency brake when he heard someone bellow in the backyard, followed by a familiar atonal shriek.

  He bolted around back, pausing a second to take in what he was seeing.

  Someone had flicked on the outside light, giving him an all-too-clear view. Finn had climbed up the back porch, stalking Jezebel, and apparently he’d managed to get the open canvas pet carrier over and around her, like putting a glass jar over a spider. Only now it was bucking around as if she truly were a miniature panther, spraying sardine oil everywhere, and Finn didn’t have a great hold on the carrier, or her, because Adalia had just attacked him with some sort of projectile. Was that a crystal?

  He wasn’t sure, but he started running toward the porch. If Jezebel got out of that bag right now, things were unlikely to go well for any of them.

  Georgie was running toward them too, pulling Adalia back.

  “It’s okay, Addy, he’s a… I know him. And the cat.” At the same time, Finn started saying, “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

  But he hadn’t tugged the bag down hard enough, and Jezebel tore free, her green eyes full of vindictive heat. She jumped in the air, claws extended, and hissed. Another jumping hiss drove her closer to Adalia, who cringed back in horror.

  Then, much to River’s surprise, she simply padded past Adalia and Georgie and entered the house, her pace as slow as you please, tracking sardine oil everywhere.

  River made it up to the
porch and clapped Finn on the shoulder. He had a goose egg on his head, but he looked like he was probably fine. “Hi, Adalia,” he said. “Like your new cat?”

  Adalia’s eyes went wide, and at first he thought it was a natural reaction to finding out that she was expected to coexist with a creature like Jezebel, but instead she looked back and forth between River and Georgie.

  “Oh,” she said. “I see. You’re the mystery guy. Of course you are.”

  Which meant Georgie hadn’t yet gotten around to telling her, but she’d figured it out nonetheless, from the situation maybe, or the energy between them. He was okay with that. He wanted people to know. Keeping things on the down-low made sense for the moment, but he didn’t want to sneak around with Georgie, and he felt pretty sure she didn’t want that either.

  Finn cleared his throat, and Adalia’s gaze shot to him.

  He was still rubbing at the bump on his head, cringing every time he did, which begged the question of why he kept at it, but there was a strange look on his face, like maybe he was at a loss, something not typical for someone who always seemed to know how to charm people.

  “Sorry I scared you,” Finn said. “And for”—he motioned to the mess of sardine oil and the cloth pet carrier, which now had claw marks scored down the sides. “I know River and Dottie have been looking for her, and I figured I couldn’t risk letting her get away. Not that I helped much, I guess.”

  “You didn’t scare me,” Adalia said. “I’ve lived in New York City for years. I know what to do with an intruder.”

  “Hit them with a crystal?” Finn asked, giving her a wry smile. “That seems more like behavior reserved for people who have a close, personal relationship with River’s aunt.”

  “Hey,” Adalia said, shrugging, “she gave it to me before I left and suggested I keep it on me. She’s a lady who knows what she’s doing when it comes to crystals. And apparently she was right.”

  This didn’t seem to be going anywhere fast, so River figured it was time for him and Finn to make their exit.

  “We should both probably go,” he said. “It’s late. I didn’t mean to drop in on you either”—he met Georgie’s eyes, silently apologizing—“but Finn told me he was on Jezebel’s trail, and I didn’t want either of them to catch you off guard.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not leaving us with that cat,” Adalia said. “I expect protection.” She shifted her head to grin at Georgie. “And so does my sister. Come in. You guys can have some of this wine Georgie bought.”

  Finn made a rude sound, and River and Georgie exchanged a glance. She smiled at him and nodded, telling him it was okay. Maybe she didn’t want to be alone with Jezebel either, which, fair enough. He’d have to tell Aunt Dottie she’d made it home. She’d spent the last week knitting Jezebel a welcome home sweater, but he figured he could convince her to hold off on the inevitable trauma of attempting to put it on her by reminding her, gently, that it was summer.

  “And you are so cleaning up whatever horrible fish thing is now sprayed all over our porch,” Adalia added.

  “Fair enough,” River said, following them in. He wondered if Finn was going to leave, but instead he trailed them into the house, which made River wonder what, exactly, he had to say. It had to be pretty compelling if he was willing to drink wine with a stranger who’d just clocked him over the head.

  When they entered the house, Jezebel was stalking slowly through the downstairs, taking in the new—and very empty—landscape.

  “Oh no,” Georgie said, glancing back at him with something like horror, “what if she’s mad that I changed it?”

  And because Adalia apparently already knew about them anyway, he stepped forward and took her hand, squeezed it, while they watched the cat stalk around.

  Jezebel returned to the kitchen from the living area, pausing in every corner and examining the new appliances, the painted cabinets. Finally, as if passing judgment, she leapt atop the refrigerator and settled into a contented ball.

  “I think she approves,” River said.

  “Why, exactly, are we treating this cat like a deity?” Adalia asked.

  A fair question, and one he thought it best to let Georgie answer. Except Finn hadn’t gotten the memo. He’d been looking around the house, something hard about the set of his lips, but he shifted his gaze to Adalia at that comment. “Because this was Beau’s house, and Jezebel was his cat. Take the house, respect the cat.”

  Hell, when had he last seen Finn with such a chip on his shoulder?

  Adalia just sniffed and took out some wine glasses.

  “Dude,” River said. “Tone it down. We both know Jezebel is a creature of evil. Beau himself called her that. He just happened to like her that way.”

  “Didn’t hesitate to make yourself at home,” Finn said, ignoring River’s comment and shifting his glance to Georgie. Something ugly played in his gaze.

  “What the hell?” River said, tugging Georgie a little closer. “You don’t have any call to talk to her that way. In her house, no less.”

  “Yeah,” Adalia agreed. “I might have to rescind your part of the invitation. More wine for us.”

  Finn sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that suggested something was preying on him. His eyes had circles under them too.

  “Sorry. You’re right. I’m going to head out… It’s just…River, can I talk to you for a minute before I go? There’s something I need to tell you.” His gaze lowered to River and Georgie’s linked hands. “And I’m starting to think it really can’t wait.”

  “Whatever it is, just say it,” River said. “You can talk freely in front of them.”

  “I really don’t think I should.”

  Adalia had been pouring wine, only three glasses now—she’d dramatically pushed the fourth away—but she stopped, watching them.

  “Well, I’m not leaving right now,” River said, sick of being jerked around. “So if you want to talk to me, this is where it’s happening.”

  “Just remember that you’re the one who made that call,” Finn said, fidgeting a little as he stood there.

  Georgie’s hand suddenly felt clammy within his, and a feeling of foreboding stole over River. It occurred to him that maybe he’d made a mistake, that they shouldn’t talk about this here, in front of Georgie and Adalia, or maybe it would be better not to talk about it at all, but it was too late, Finn was already opening his mouth to speak.

  “Look, man, I’m not happy to be the bearer of bad news, but I’ve been using Henry Manning’s office to look over the Big Catch papers, and someone connected to the office—not naming names here—told me something you deserve to know.”

  A little gasp escaped Georgie like a sudden exhale of air.

  “Turns out Beau was going to leave it all to you—the brewery, even the house—before your girlfriend here showed up in Asheville and convinced him not to. And there’s a clause in the will that gives the brewery back to you if Buchanan doesn’t place in the top five at Brewfest next spring.”

  River felt a pit open in his gut, each of Finn’s words tearing into him like an actual missile. What. The. Actual. Hell. Could that be true? Had she known all of this and kept it from him? Had she thought he’d, what, sabotage the brewery if he knew?

  One look at those beautiful hazel eyes, swimming with tears, told him all he needed to know. He let his hand slip away from hers.

  “You didn’t know that, did you?” Finn asked, his tone softer now, his gaze beseeching. “I didn’t think so.”

  “You should go now,” Adalia said from somewhere behind him. “Unless you want to get clocked with another crystal.”

  Dimly, River registered that Finn did leave. And the sound of footsteps indicated Adalia was making herself scarce too.

  All he could think was that he needed to leave too. The safety he’d found with Georgie, the feeling of home—it had all been a lie. She’d only let him into her world under her rules. The fraternization clause. The noncompete. This. She and her
brothers, or at least Jack, had known about the will all along.

  It made it worse that Beau himself had arranged this. That he had played them like they were pieces in some sort of twisted game. Sure, Aunt Dottie had made Beau skew toward eccentric toward the end, but this kind of manipulation was something he’d expect more from the son than the father. This was a side of Beau he hadn’t known well, and one he was ashamed to realize he didn’t much like. It felt wrong to think ill of the dead, when Beau couldn’t do a thing to explain himself.

  “River?”

  He realized it wasn’t the first time she’d said his name, and her voice was shaking, with tears running down her cheeks.

  In a weird way, he still wanted to comfort her, to trace those tears with his fingers and hold her, even though he was the one she’d hurt.

  “I didn’t convince him to do any of that, River,” she was saying. “I didn’t know what he was planning. I wanted to tell you when I found out, I really wanted to tell you, but Jack was adamant. He wouldn’t have agreed to work with you if you knew, and—”

  “When did you find out?” he asked, his voice sounding funny and flat to his own ears. “How long have you known?”

  Her face, which had gone pale, lost even more color. “The day Jack and I signed the papers,” she said. “I’ve known since then.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he said, but the truth drove the knife deeper. “Were you going to tell me?”

  “Yes! Of course! I was trying to figure out a way to make it right. I figured I’d buy out Lee and Adalia after Brewfest, if we win, and make you partner. And if we don’t, you’d have control anyway.”

  “You were going to wait that long?” he asked, anger threading into his voice now. “You were going to wait nearly a year?”

  “No”—she reached for his arm, but he pulled away. “No,” she added in a smaller voice. “I just wanted you to know what I was planning. That I had a way to make it right.”