Better Luck Next Time
Asheville Brewing #2
A.R. Casella
Denise Grover Swank
Copyright © 2020 by A.R. Casella and Denise Grover Swank
Cover design: Okay Creations
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Also by A.R. Casella and Denise Grover Swank
Also by Denise Grover Swank
About the Author
About the Author
Dedication
To Sean, whose charisma, business smarts, and inability to keep a secret inspired Finn. We miss you always. —ARC
* * *
To Jenna, I love you, girl. Never let anyone break your spirit. —DGS
Chapter One
“It’s going well, don’t you think?”
Adalia Buchanan glanced over her shoulder, smiling at the tremor in her sister’s voice. Only Georgie would worry that an event with a full house might be going badly. Adalia had been to art showings that had a grand total of four guests and Two-Buck Chuck in plastic cups. As far as she was concerned, the grand reopening of Buchanan Brewery was a major success.
“Georgie, stop worrying. There are people lined up outside, waiting to get in. Everyone loves the new brews. That guy from the Best Brews website is losing it over the Cesspool of Sin ale—”
Georgie’s eyes flew wide. “Losing it how?”
Adalia rolled her eyes. “In a good way. River made it, so how could it be anything short of amazing?” She leaned in closer and grinned. “And if you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it until my dying breath.”
While Adalia liked River Reeves well enough and thought he was the perfect man for her overachieving sister, she didn’t want to get his ego out of whack by giving him too many compliments for free. No one liked a man with an outsized ego.
Georgie nodded, anxiety still filling her eyes.
Adalia wished her older sister would learn to relax, but Georgie’s name might as well have been Georgie Perfectionist Buchanan. Relaxing wasn’t in her wheelhouse, especially on a night like tonight. To be fair, it was a big deal, especially for Georgie. Buchanan Brewery might now belong to all four Buchanan siblings, but Georgie was the only one who’d put in the capital to refurbish the decades-old facility and pay the staff during a nearly three-month shutdown.
So yeah, Georgie had a lot riding on a successful relaunch.
“Don’t worry, Georgie. Everyone is loving everything about the place, from the beer to the updated décor, and even the new merch.” Adalia gave her a smug smile as she listed that last item, since she was the one who’d designed it. “And they love that you’ve still kept some of the past too, from Beau Brown ale to Dottie herself.”
Georgie’s eyes flew wide in horror. “I would never get rid of Dottie!” Then she added, “Even if I could.”
The Buchanan siblings had inherited the brewery from their paternal grandfather, Beau Buchanan, but the gift had come with a few stipulations, the least outrageous of which was that Beau’s longtime girlfriend, Dottie Hendrickson, couldn’t be fired.
“Why would we ever get rid of Dottie?” Adalia scoffed. “The woman is a national treasure.” She saw the older woman making the rounds, and Dottie looked up and smiled as if she knew she was being discussed. Maybe she did, actually. She seemed to have an uncanny way of knowing things.
Adalia felt a rush of warmth. Dottie was a hoot to have around, and she’d been around a lot. It seemed she’d decided to take the wayward Buchanan children under her wing. If she’d treated them like projects, it would have been insulting, but Dottie wasn’t like that. “Is it just me, or does Dottie’s hair look more lavender than usual?”
Georgie laughed. “She told River she used a new rinse. It looks good on her, I think.”
“Anything would look good on her,” Adalia said. “She could pull off bright orange without looking like a clown.”
Georgie gave her a soft smile, emotion practically oozing out of her pores, and Adalia restrained an eyeroll. She knew her sister was happy she was making connections in Asheville. Over the past few months, Georgie had poured her worry into two things: the brewery and Adalia. Which, to be fair, Adalia had shown up in Asheville a sobbing mess back in June.
Was it weird that the only friend she’d really made here in Asheville was the eighty-two-year-old great-aunt of her sister’s boyfriend? Probably, but Adalia either stayed at home or went to the brewery with Georgie, so it wasn’t like she’d had a lot of opportunities to socialize. Normally, that would have bothered her. Normally, she was the social one of the three Buchanan siblings—oops… four Buchanan siblings, but Adalia knew absolutely nothing about her newly discovered half-brother, Jack Durand, other than he didn’t seem to have a sense of humor. Or at least he didn’t display one in the video business meetings he’d participated in with his sisters. Still, he was somewhat useful, and he’d played a big role in the opening party, even though he’d made all of the arrangements from Chicago.
Adalia had learned of his existence at the reading of Grandpa Beau’s will, and at first she’d had no interest in getting to know him. It had felt almost like a betrayal of her mother. Now, as of today, she was his roommate. He’d gone back to Chicago shortly after the will reading for undisclosed reasons—packing did not take three months; Adalia had done it in an afternoon—but he’d shown up at Grandpa Beau’s house this morning in a small moving van towing a Prius.
Up until a couple of weeks ago, Adalia had been sharing the house with Georgie, but her sister had spent so much time at River’s apartment that he’d finally asked her to move in. Georgie had done some more worrying about Adalia, not wanting to leave her alone with their inherited devil cat, Jezebel, but Adalia had encouraged her to be happy and take her lovefest elsewhere. Something she’d regretted as soon as Jack set a move-in date. He’d dragged his feet for so long she’d kind of hoped he’d forgotten about it. Although she’d lived with plenty of Craigslist strangers, none of the others had been her brother.
“He’s not a stranger,” Georgie had admonished when Adalia had voiced her irritation. “You’ve talked to him in our video meetings.”
“Where he’s all business. Nothing personal. He’s like a robot. And besides, I’ve never met him in person.”
“He was at the will reading,” Georgie had reminded
her.
“And we never said a word to each other.” But Adalia had flinched at the reminder. She wasn’t proud of the way she’d acted that day. She’d talked about him right in front of his face, like he wasn’t even there. Like he was an inconvenience rather than a person. She of all people should have known better, and she couldn’t help wondering if he held it against her.
She definitely would have.
Bright and early that morning—had he driven all night?—Jack had dropped off some of his belongings in Georgie’s old room. He’d said all of thirty-two words to Adalia (she’d counted), most of them conveying the message that he was dropping the rest of his stuff off at a prearranged storage facility. Then he’d promptly disappeared until a few hours before the opening, which had irritated Adalia to no end.
“Why couldn’t he have come into town yesterday?” she’d asked her sister while they were going through the final preparations. “He should be here helping.”
“He set a lot of things up remotely, Addy, and you know it. I don’t know why he couldn’t come to Asheville sooner, but he’s here now. Be nice.”
Be nice.
Nice better not be in any description of Adalia Elizabeth Buchanan. Feisty. Loud. Even obnoxious, but never nice. Her mother had been nice, and all it had gotten her was an overbearing, cheating husband, who treated his children like fleas on a dog.
Except that wasn’t entirely true. Adalia had come close to being nice with the last man in her life, and it had cost her more than she was willing to contemplate.
She shook away the bitter memories, searching for Jack in the crowd. She watched him for a moment, impressed by how well he fit in with the staff, something she wouldn’t have expected since most of them hadn’t been privy to the awkward video chats. But he’d introduced himself to everyone before they opened their doors, and she had to admit he’d done well. He apologized for showing up a few months late—which had gotten a few chuckles, mostly because he’d delivered the line in a self-deprecating tone—and said the kinds of things people wanted to hear in a tone that implied he meant them (open door policy, no issue too big or small, yada yada). She’d listened more closely when the speech turned personal. Apparently, he’d gotten his start as a busboy when he was fifteen, then worked his way up the ladder at a few restaurants before taking over as manager of a bar. He’d delivered every line with an air of humility that had softened Adalia toward him—just a little—and instantly won over the staff.
She was a little jealous that he seemed more inclined to talk to them than he was to her. Then again, she hadn’t made it easy.
“At least Jack is here,” Georgie said. “Lee couldn’t be bothered.”
It was true, their full-blooded brother had sent his sisters a group text, not a congratulations but a warning.
Dad and Victoria are keeping an eye on your relaunch. Don’t screw it up, or I’ll never hear the end of it.
Rude, to be sure, but then Lee had been rude to Adalia ever since she’d up and moved to Asheville. Although Lee had given Georgie his approval to rehab and run the brewery, he’d appeared to immediately regret it. Whether it was because he really wanted nothing to do with their inheritance or because their father wouldn’t let him hear the end of it (Dear Old Dad was clearly super bitter to have been skipped over in Grandpa Beau’s will), Adalia couldn’t be sure, but she suspected it was a combination. She’d initially planned on taking a hands-off approach too, but then she’d gotten into trouble and abruptly moved to Asheville. Lee had seen it as a personal betrayal. Especially since he didn’t know the real reason she had moved. They’d gotten closer recently, and she hated to lose that, but she’d hate it even more if she had to see the look of disappointment in his eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him what had happened.
She glanced back at Georgie, who was biting her lip, and decided there was one thing she could do. Her sister was on the ledge of anxiety, and she knew there was only one person who could talk her down. River was moving around the room, talking to the customers. At least half of them already knew him from when he was the brewmaster at Big Catch Brewing, the brewery he’d started with his friend Finn. The customers were greeting him with big smiles and offering congratulations on a successful reopening. Adalia knew they were also (rightfully) praising his beers. Georgie needed to be in the middle of that. Not stuck on the periphery like a wallflower.
Before she could drag her sister over there, Dottie wove her way through the crowd and stopped in front of them. “Addy, I need you to come talk to a young man about the T-shirts you designed with Hops and Jezebel.”
Adalia shot a glance at her still-anxious sister. “I’d be happy to, Dottie, but I need to take care of my sister first. I’ll be right there.”
Without waiting for either of them to respond, she wrapped an arm around Georgie’s back and started pulling her across the tasting room.
“What are you doing?” Georgie asked, trying to resist without creating a scene.
“River,” Adalia called out as she tilted to the side to get a look at him in the midst of the crowd.
He turned to face her with a question in his eyes.
She dragged her sister around a couple and practically thrust her at him.
“I’m done babysitting her. It’s your turn.”
Georgie gasped in horror, but Adalia threw her arms around her sister and whispered in her ear, “You’ve done an amazing thing here, Georgie. Now please let yourself enjoy it.”
Georgie gave her a surprised look, but Adalia winked, then turned to River and said in a deep voice, “Young man, I expect you to make sure my sister has a good time tonight, or there will be hell to pay.”
River grinned, probably in part because she’d needled him plenty of times about the fact that she was older than him by a few weeks, especially since Georgie was three years older than both of them.
Her work done, she set out in search of Dottie, only to plow into the broad chest of a very handsome man, or so she thought for the split second before she recognized him as Finn Hamilton. His hair was longer, the curl more apparent, and his blue-green eyes were the sort that kept a person guessing: blue with one outfit, green with another. Still, his looks didn’t matter. She and Finn had gotten off on the wrong foot when they’d met, and even though they’d seen each other a couple of times since, they were still apparently on the wrong foot. Literally. He’d been holding a glass of beer, and it sloshed over his hand and onto her shoes.
“Oh, Adalia,” Finn said, grabbing her arm with his free hand. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s a crowded room. Bound to happen.” Sure enough, one of the tasting room employees was Johnny-on-the-spot with a rag to help clean up the spill. She stepped to the side, pulling Finn with her.
He let her go abruptly as though realizing he was still holding on.
“I saw the article,” she blurted out.
He made a face she couldn’t interpret. “Which one?”
Fortune had written a piece about him and his sale of Big Catch to Bev Corp, a national distributor. They’d praised the move and called him a “self-made man,” but a good portion of the citizens of Asheville were pissed at Finn for selling out to Bev Corp (River included, though they’d mostly made up), and The Asheville Gazette had countered the article with a piece of their own, alleging that Finn’s parents—who were mega wealthy—had made a substantial donation to the Duke business school right before Finn had been accepted. So his reputation was deep in the crapper. In fact, Adalia was surprised to see he’d come out and risk a public tarring and feathering. Even more so because he’d clearly come alone.
“Both.” She flashed him a smile. “Plus all of the comments. They really paint a picture.”
His eyes darkened.
Oh crap. She’d only meant to tease him—wasn’t laughing about something the best way to blunt the sting?—but obviously he’d taken it the wrong way. She of all people understood what it was like to be judged based on the success
of your parents. She’d lived not only in her father’s shadow, but that of her two older siblings. The expectations could be so smothering. So limiting. The one thing she’d always been able to count on was the look of disapproval in her father’s eyes, because she would always be a disappointment to him. Was Finn’s family supporting him, or had they tossed him to the wolves?
“There you are, dear,” Dottie said, sidling up to them.
Adalia started to respond, but then she realized Dottie was talking to Finn.
The older woman lifted her hand to his cheek and patted lightly. “Did you go see Lola as I suggested?”
Lola? Who was Lola? A therapist? A prostitute? A rabbit who could play the flute? With Dottie, there was no way of knowing.
He gave her a sheepish look. “No, but…”
Dottie shook her head and clucked. “When will you young people learn to trust me? Lola is a good friend, and she’s exactly the person who can help you”—her gaze shifted to Adalia—“help both of you figure out what comes next.”
Finn seemed to stumble over his words before saying, “Dottie…”
“I’m teasing,” she said with a grin. “Mostly. Just know I care about you.”
Adalia knew that part was true. Dottie cared about a lot of people. Soon after Adalia had come to Asheville, Dottie had invited her over for tea and brought her on a tour of the art studio in her detached garage. Adalia had wandered around in awe of the woman’s talent. Later, over tea, Dottie had given her a key and told her to use it anytime she pleased. If she wanted privacy, all she needed to do was tie a scarf around the door handle.
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