Better Luck Next Time

by Denise Grover Swank

  “Oh, you mean like the one I ran?” River asked, huffing a laugh.

  At the last Buchanan staff party, River had found himself running the fortune-telling tent for a while as part of a ploy to romance Georgie. It was mentioned at least once a day in Buchanan Brewery, or so Dottie said, and Finn had heard the story multiple times. He always felt a little stab of guilt, knowing he was the only reason River and Georgie had been on the outs. Well, him and Beau, who’d written what had to be the strangest will in the history of Asheville.

  “I’m still sorry I missed that,” he said. “But yeah, I guess it surprised me how legit this felt. I mean, it was practically a doctor’s office. Not a scarf or crystal ball in sight. I almost believed her.”

  “Who’s to say?” River said with a shrug. “I give Dottie a hard time, but you know she’s right as often as she’s wrong when it comes to the mystical stuff.” He was quiet for a second, as if weighing something. Then he said, “I don’t want to come off all big brotherish, but what are your intentions toward Adalia? I don’t need to be an actual psychic to tell there’s something going on with you two.”

  He couldn’t blame River for asking. He’d been Finn’s wingman dozens of times, and vice versa.

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I care about her, though. I want to be there for her.”

  “Good,” River said, “because she needs a friend like you.”

  That statement of trust from River meant the world to him, and he would have said so if River hadn’t pulled into the driveway of Beau’s old house just then.

  Jack and Dottie were sitting on the front porch, talking.

  “What happened to stalling Georgie?” Finn wondered out loud.

  “Guess we’ll find out. The fact that she’s not here means he must have met with some measure of success.” River shook his head slightly. “Looks like my aunt’s gotten to Jack too. I wondered how long it would take.”

  “What do you mean?” Finn asked.

  “Let’s just say he’s been one of the holdouts when it comes to Aunt Dottie. I was starting to think he was afraid of her.”

  “Well, to be fair, I was afraid of her the first time we met.”

  Dottie had just been so unlike everyone he knew. So much louder. So much brighter. At first he’d suspected being eccentric was some kind of game to her, but then he’d gotten to know her, and it had become clear that she was one of the few people who never tried to dissemble or pretend. Dottie didn’t put any thought into trying to please the people she met. All of her concentration was poured into existing, and into helping the people around her achieve what was so effortless for her.

  “I still am afraid of her,” River quipped, popping his door. “Let’s get Sleeping Beauty.”

  Finn wanted to carry her again—he ached to—but Jack beat him to it, hopping down the porch and hurrying down the hill toward them. He gathered Adalia up in his arms in a way that made it obvious Finn wasn’t the only new person in her life who cared about her.

  “What happened with Georgie?” River asked.

  “Turned out I didn’t need to do anything,” Jack said. “The new bottling machine is acting up, and she’s been handling damage control. It was manufactured in Europe, and it’s after hours for all of the call centers. Last I heard, she’d been on hold listening to ‘Greensleeves’ for over an hour.”

  “So she’ll come home in a good mood then,” River commented.

  Jack huffed a laugh, but then his gaze shot to Finn, standing helplessly at the side of the car. For a moment, Finn worried the camaraderie they’d achieved this morning would slip away. That Jack would go all big brother again and tell him to leave.

  “Let’s hope Dottie’s cure works,” Jack said simply. Then he carried her up to the porch, Adalia stirring as he climbed the steps.

  “Jacky! My brother!” she crooned, throwing a sloppy arm around his neck. “You’re the one who likes me.”

  Except Lee liked her too, Finn was fairly certain. And if he could help her heal whatever had happened between them, he would. River was right. She needed friends right now, all of the good ones she could get.

  “I sure do,” Jack said, “but you’re not going to like me after I make you drink this.”

  Finn and River followed him up the stairs as he set Adalia on the chair he’d just vacated. Dottie grinned at them from her seat, not in the least bit perturbed by the situation. Sure enough, there was a glass cup on the little table between the chairs, its contents a somewhat alarming shade of red.

  Jack handed it to Adalia, who gave the contents a big sniff and cringed. “Is that…fish?”

  “No, dear,” Dottie answered. “With your brother’s permission, I’ve set up a few sardine traps to lure our girl home.”

  Our girl being Jezebel. A quick glance revealed there were indeed open tins of sardines on either side of the porch. Huh. Jack might have taken a while to come around to Dottie, but he’d already gone to extremes to please her.

  Jack shrugged self-consciously. “I don’t mind the cat. Besides, she’s our mascot for the sours. We need her.”

  “My brother, the cat whisperer, ladies and gentlemen,” Adalia shouted.

  A woman on the porch of the house next door flinched upon hearing the word “cat” and hurried inside.

  “Adalia, you’d better drink that,” Finn said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  He hadn’t meant anything by the casual touch…or maybe he had. Either way, Dottie’s eyes instantly fixed on it.

  “I take it your visit to Lola went well?” she asked.

  “She basically told us we’re soul mates, so it went swimmingly. Swimmmmingly,” Adalia said, grinning.

  River shot a look at him, and Finn realized he’d never told him what, exactly, Lola had said. Only that it had seemed legit.

  Which meant River now knew Finn considered it possible that he and Adalia were meant for each other. He was surprisingly okay with that. At least his friend knew he was serious.

  “Oh, that’s not news to me,” Dottie said, sweeping the air in a dismissive gesture. “Now, down the hatch, as they say.”

  Adalia scrunched up her nose and gulped the red drink down.

  “Is that the one I’ve had?” Finn asked Dottie in an undertone. The memory made him shudder. Tomato juice, a raw egg, and other “secret” ingredients Dottie had refused to divulge.

  “With a twist,” she said.

  “Dear God,” Adalia said, putting the glass down with a resounding click. “Is it supposed to cure me by making me puke?”

  “No, but it is sometimes an unintended consequence,” Dottie said.

  Adalia hung her head between her legs for a few seconds, but then she sat back up, and her eyes already looked a little clearer.

  “Can someone please get me a Sprite or something? Pronto? I might actually die if that taste stays in my mouth.”

  “Coming right up,” Jack said, disappearing inside.

  Except several minutes passed without any sign of him, and Adalia seemed like she was in legitimate pain.

  “I can go check on him,” Finn offered, after what seemed like Adalia’s sixth groan.

  “It’s an eighteen-hundred-square-foot house,” she said. “I doubt he’s lost. But yes, please God. My kingdom for a Sprite.”

  He knocked a couple of times before walking in, figuring it was the least he could do given it wasn’t his house, and made his way into the kitchen. He could see Jack through the plate glass door, an unopened can of Sprite in his hand, his cell phone pressed to his ear as he leaned against a support post.

  He had an intense look on his face, nothing like the relaxed guy who’d been chilling on the porch with Dottie.

  It didn’t look like he was going anywhere in a hurry, so Finn continued on to the fridge and grabbed another can of soda. But before he could turn back, he heard Jack say, “I wish you were here with me now.” A pause, then he added, “I know you wanted this. And so do I, but a few months feels like a lo
ng time right now… I don’t trust her.”

  The words were a bit muffled, but someone had left a window open, and the screen didn’t block noise.

  He exited as discreetly and quietly as he could, Sprite in hand, feeling the weight of knowing one more thing he probably wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. For someone who wasn’t much good at keeping secrets, Finn had a hell of a knack for collecting them.

  Jack Durand clearly had some sort of secret girlfriend he’d left back home. One he wasn’t, for whatever reason, telling anyone about. And he’d also said he didn’t trust someone, possibly someone here in Asheville.

  But he needn’t have worried about the compulsion to tell what he’d heard, because moments after he handed over the Sprite to Adalia, he heard a shriek from the neighbor’s yard.

  Jack called back to them, “Jezebel just leapt over the fence!”

  “Look at that,” Adalia commented after gulping down half the can of Sprite. “We didn’t need the sardines after all.”

  She got up, looking a lot sturdier than she had any right to given the way she’d been mainlining tequila earlier, and started to circle around the house. Finn, River, and Dottie exchanged looks before they followed her.

  They all knew what she was liable to find back there, but they had no idea how she’d react to it.

  If only Finn had thought to ask Lola more questions, like whether he’d drawn the death card because Adalia was about to kill him for orchestrating this.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Adalia had no idea what Dottie put in the nasty concoction, but the fuzziness in her head was clearing, and the events of the afternoon were rushing back in vivid and not-so-vivid detail.

  The tarot reading—both of them—ordering her liquid lunch (had she eaten any of her tacos?), and then telling Finn about Alan. The last recollection brought a fresh round of shame. She’d decided to tell him, in the end, hence all of the tequila shots disguised with lime juice and sugar, but now…

  What did he think of her?

  She wasn’t sure why she’d wanted him to know. She hadn’t told anyone other than Georgie, and River by default. Lee was hardly speaking to her, mostly because he knew she was holding something back. Her explanation for her last-minute relocation—that she’d wanted to escape the Alan situation and, hey, we have a brewery!—hadn’t convinced him. Maybe she should have been honest, forthright, but Lee was too much like their father. He wouldn’t understand, and if he found out, he’d almost certainly tell Dear Old Dad.

  Nope. Not opening herself up to that.

  But why had she wanted to tell Finn? Because Lola had said they were tied together?

  Adalia had never been a big believer in destiny. She refused to believe some unseen force was controlling her life. Because if it existed, it was a real dick for taking her mom from her. No, she’d opened up to Finn for a different reason. It was weird they’d had the same cards, but freaky coincidences happened every day.

  She’d told him because of what he’d witnessed. He’d watched her wrench something out of her soul and attach it to a canvas, and sure, it had been an abstract, and most people would have just seen a bunch of red and yellow and blue paint on a white canvas, but the look in his eyes, the admiration and the empathy, proved that he hadn’t been flattering her. Finn had seen so much more. Then she’d ripped it apart in front of him, and he’d been upset not because she’d destroyed something of monetary value, but because he knew she’d destroyed a piece of herself. The very fact he was horrified by that meant more than every word of praise Alan had ever heaped on her.

  And that scared the crap out of her. If Alan could rip out her heart and bring her to the edge of despair, how much worse could Finn hurt her?

  There was no doubt in her mind that Finn was interested in her. If the hand-holding hadn’t clued her in, then there was the tender way he’d cradled her when he carried her to River’s car, something she’d noticed even through her drunken haze. But Finn was a serial dater, and Adalia had no desire to become another notch on his bedpost.

  A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed the others were following her into the back yard, which seemed odd. Then again, maybe not. Everyone with the exception of Dottie was terrified of Jezebel. Apparently Adalia was their human shield. Or maybe they were hanging back in case she yakked Dottie’s awful drink.

  Jack was sitting on the bench, and Jezebel was beside him, rubbing her head against his chest.

  “What the hell?” River said in surprise.

  Jack lifted his hand to rub the cat’s head, and Finn cried out, “I wouldn’t do that!”

  But Jack shot the group a confused look as he started to stroke her. “I don’t understand why you all keep saying she’s mean.”

  “Did you put catnip in those sardines?” Finn asked. “Or Xanax?”

  “No, dear,” Dottie said, clasping her hands in front of her as her face lit up with glee. “Adalia’s right. He really is a cat whisperer.” She said it with as much excitement as if she’d discovered he were a wizard. Although, to be fair, it would take a wizard to turn Jezebel into a normal cat.

  Taking a tentative step toward the bench, Adalia reached out to pet Jezebel, but the cat arched her back and hissed, taking a swat at her. She pulled back just in time to keep from getting mauled.

  “So we’ve now established that Jack belongs to Jezebel,” she said, taking a step back, which was when she noticed everyone was watching her. Narrowing her eyes, she scanned River’s and Dottie’s faces before landing on Finn’s. The man couldn’t keep a secret to save his soul, and the fact that he was keeping one now was written all over his face.

  “What are you all hiding?” she asked, propping a hand on her hip.

  “Maybe we should go inside,” Dottie said. “I forgot to mention that sometimes one should stay close to a toilet after drinking my elixir.”

  “I can throw up outside,” Adalia protested, her stomach already churning from the power of suggestion. She should probably try to eat something soon.

  Dottie made a sour face. “Oh no, dear. Not that end.”

  “What?” Finn asked in alarm. “You didn’t mention that when you practically forced me to drink it a few months ago.”

  “That’s because you got the hangover version,” Dottie said, gracing Finn with a warm smile. “Addy got my special batch.”

  “Dottie’s right,” Jack said as he scooped up Jezebel and cradled her to his chest. “You should go inside and lie down.”

  “And maybe we should burn you at the stake,” she said, keeping her gaze on Jezebel. She had never seen that cat so docile. Not even when Georgie had given her a double dose of sedatives a month ago before taking her to the vet for her shots. Apparently, she’d revived enough to take a parting swat at the vet tech.

  “Don’t be silly,” Dottie said. “They haven’t burned witches for years. People are much more tolerant now.”

  Adalia whipped her head around to determine if the older woman was joking, but a wave of dizziness washed through her. She stumbled, and Finn was instantly there next to her, grabbing her arm and holding her steady so she didn’t fall.

  “I agree with Jack,” River said, but his answer sounded forced. “Georgie should be here soon. Why don’t you rest until she gets home? Maybe Aunt Dottie can make you another cure if you’re still feeling off.”

  “Don’t be silly, dear,” Dottie said. “It only takes one. If I give her another…” She shook her head. “Let’s just say the last girl who drank two of them couldn’t get anyone to wax her chest hair.”

  “What?” Adalia screeched, glancing down at her chest.

  “You don’t have any chest hair,” Finn said. “I promise.”

  “What are you doing looking at her chest?” Jack asked in a guarded tone. “And why was she so drunk anyway?”

  “Here’s a better question that might actually be your business,” Adalia said in a dry tone. “Why is Georgie coming home early?” She narrowed her eyes even more. “And why
are you here, Jack? Shouldn’t you and Dottie be at work?”

  The three guys were staring at her like she was a cobra about ready to pounce, but Dottie was humming as she held up her hand and examined her nail beds.

  “What’s going on?” Adalia asked, starting to get nervous. Maybe she hadn’t been that far off when she’d told Finn that Georgie was having her committed. Maybe this was some kind of an intervention. She honestly wouldn’t put it past her sister to stage an intervention, and River was probably too scared to tell his girlfriend no. Jack, he was still too new to protest, plus he knew Georgie controlled the brewery purse strings, and Dottie…well, Dottie would gleefully attend an intervention and likely pass out weed-filled brownies for refreshment.

  There was no way she was sticking around for that.

  Her body stiffened as it prepared for flight, but Finn’s hand found hers and squeezed.

  “River,” he said, but it held the hint of a question in it.

  River’s eyes began to soften.

  “No,” Jack said. “I say we go inside. Georgie will be home soon.”

  Adalia looked up at Finn. “What’s going on? Just tell me.”

  She nearly accused him of helping the others set her up, but his gaze was full of warmth and reassurance.

  He gave her a soft smile that made her stomach do a little flip that she was pretty sure didn’t have anything to do with Dottie’s cure. “We have something to show you.”

  But they were all acting so hesitant that she feared it might not be anything good.

  “Finn,” Jack snapped. “We need to wait for Georgie.”

  “No,” Finn said, his smile unwavering. “We need to make sure Adalia doesn’t feel like she’s about to be attacked.” They were still hand in hand, and he pulled her around the bench and the tree behind it, guiding her toward a wooden shed at the back of the property.

  “You gonna lock me in the shed?” she half teased, getting even more nervous, but Finn’s thumb stroked the top of her hand, calming her enough to keep her next to him.