“Thank you, Aunt Dottie. It’s big of you to say so.” He pushed his plate back, no longer feeling so hungry.
“What happened today?” she asked.
And here he’d thought he might be able to get away without talking about it.
“I went to see Beau”—he could see her practically glowing as he said it, thinking about things like kismet, him going to the grave, her knowing to give him the watch, but he kept on talking—“and Georgie showed up while I was there.”
“Beau sent her,” Aunt Dottie said, repeating his errant thought as if it were an absolute, ironclad fact.
“Well, if he did, he enjoys messing with my head,” he snapped. “She pushed me away again. She’s not going to change her mind. It’s time for me to just accept that.”
But his aunt was already shaking her head. “The Buchanans are nothing if not stubborn—you should know that from Beau—but I see the way that girl lights up every time you’re in the room, River. You just have to be patient. The pink crystal will work its magic.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said, wanting to believe it but not so sure he did anymore. “She was upset about her sister, by the way. Sounds like Adalia isn’t coming this weekend.”
Aunt Dottie frowned. “I was sure she would. I’m worried about that girl, River. She may need our help more than any of them.”
Our help? Was that what this was about for Aunt Dottie? Helping Beau’s grandchildren? If so, she might have her work cut out for her with the other three. He somehow couldn’t imagine Junior allowing Aunt Dottie to read his tea leaves.
“I don’t know any details,” he said. “Just that she was crying when Georgie called this morning. Georgie was really upset to find out she wasn’t coming this weekend.” And that had cracked something inside of him. Because the look on her face, the loss, the loneliness, the feeling of being left—he knew all of those things and didn’t want her to suffer them.
“Thanks for this,” he said, shaking the watch container. “I should get back to the loft before Hops destroys everything.”
“You don’t want to help with the after-party planning?” She looked a little crestfallen.
“No, I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” he said. “Plausible deniability, and all that.”
They left the kitchen together, River holding the watch box as if it were a lifeline.
“What about a trampoline?” one of the employees said. “I know a place where we can rent one at a discount. There’s plenty of room for it out back.”
And even though he’d said he wouldn’t get involved, River found himself channeling Georgie.
“In the dark? When people are tipsy or drunk? Let’s table that one.”
His aunt just patted him on the back and sent him on his way.
By the time he got home, Hops had, indeed, escaped his kennel. But he hadn’t destroyed anything this time—he’d just dragged his favorite sandal to the front door and cuddled up on it, as if waiting for River to come home. It was almost like he’d sensed it had been a bad day, and that cleaning up detritus from the apartment would only make it worse.
River spent the rest of the evening walking the dog, watching mindless TV, and steadfastly ignoring his phone. One look had been enough. In addition to his aunt’s message, there’d been a paragraph-long text from a woman who was certain Jezebel was poaching birds and leaving them on her porch as a threat.
He fell asleep on the couch, and he dreamed of Beau. In the dream, River found himself in Beau’s house. He walked out onto the back porch and found Beau in his usual chair, Jezebel curled up next to him, showing rare contentment in a patch of sunlight.
“Mighty fine watch you have there, son,” Beau said, grinning at him. And, indeed, River looked down to find he was wearing it.
“A pretty okay old man gave it to me.”
“Care to raise a glass with me?”
He sat down beside him, and suddenly, in the way of dreams, they both had pint glasses of beer.
“I miss you, Beau,” he said, because he did. “Things have gotten strange without you.”
“Yes, I suppose they have. You’ve fallen in love with my granddaughter.”
And although River was distantly aware of it being a dream, he glanced around to make sure no one else had heard them. Jezebel just looked at him as if to say she knew everything.
“Yeah, I have,” he said. “But I’m pretty sure nothing’s going to happen on that front.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Beau paused, looking him in the eye. “You know, I had a feeling about you two, River. Maybe it was Dottie rubbing off on me after so many years together, but when I met her, I knew.”
Shock rippled through him. Had Beau really thought he was good enough for his granddaughter? Or was his subconscious just messing with him too?
It was then a knock on the door woke him up. He roused to a dark room, lit only by the TV screen saver. Hops jumped up from his position at River’s feet and scampered toward the door. River followed him, still feeling strange from the dream, and opened the door without bothering to ask who it was.
Georgie Buchanan rushed into his arms.
Chapter Thirty-One
Georgie woke in her hotel room to her ringing phone, instantly alert when she read the time on the digital radio next to her bed—1:13.
The number on her cell phone screen had a New York City area code, but she didn’t recognize it. She was apprehensive when she answered. “Hello?”
“Georgie?” Adalia asked with a sob.
Panic made Georgie light-headed, and she pressed the heel of her hand to her temple to ground herself. Her sister hadn’t talked to her in that tone—so unguarded, so scared—since their mother had died. “Adalia? What happened?”
“Georgie, I really screwed up.”
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m not hurt, but I’m in trouble.”
“Whatever it is, we’ll fix it. What happened?”
“I got arrested, Georgie. I’m calling you from NYPD’s fifth precinct.” She paused, then added, “I was arrested for vandalism.”
Georgie couldn’t stop her gasp of surprise. “Okay. It’s okay. That’s not too serious.”
“It’s a felony. It was nearly one hundred thousand dollars in art.”
Georgie’s heart sank. It was serious, very serious, and she had more questions than she could count, but Adalia didn’t need a lecture, or at least she didn’t need one yet. She needed her big sister. “So this is your phone call?”
“Yeah.” Her voice broke. “I’m supposed to be arraigned first thing in the morning. Then I’ll find out how much bail will be.”
“What do you need, Addy? Money for bail? An attorney? Just tell me, and it’s yours.”
“I need you, Georgie.” She broke down into sobs.
Georgie was already out of bed and dashing to the dresser. “I’m coming, Addy. What time’s the arraignment?”
There was so much to do for the parties on Saturday, and she worried that Dottie would be like a runaway locomotive in her absence, but surely River would help supervise her.
“It’s early. Eight o’clock,” Adalia said through her sniffles. “You’ll never make it in time.”
“Then I’ll be there when you get home.”
“Thank you,” Adalia said, breaking down again. “But when you go back to Asheville, can I come with you? I can’t stay here anymore. My life here is over.”
“Of course,” Georgie said without hesitation. “And don’t worry about bail. I’ll get the first flight out of Asheville. I think there’s a direct flight that leaves around six, so I can be in the city by ten or so.”
“Thank you, Georgie.”
“Time’s up,” a woman said in the background, her tone harsh.
“I have to go,” Adalia said. “But please don’t tell Lee or Dad. Please.”
They were going to lose it when they found out. Because while Georgie and Adalia could keep it from the
m for a time, they would eventually find out. It was hard to keep a secret when it was a matter of public record. But Georgie planned to buy her sister as much time as she could. “Of course. It’s our secret.”
“I love you, Georgie.”
“I love you too.” Then there was a click on the line. Adalia was gone.
She stood in place, her mind racing at the thought of everything she needed to do.
“I need a ticket,” she muttered to herself. But a quick look online revealed it was too late to purchase one electronically. She’d have to go to the airport, but first she needed to talk to River. The easy thing to do would be to call him, but the thought made her throat clog. Maybe she’d stop by his loft on the way to the airport.
She sat on the edge of the bed. It was now one twenty. She had hours to go before anything could happen. There was no way she’d be able to sleep, so she packed an overnight bag, her mind racing all the while. If she left later this morning, she could possibly still get back to Asheville in time for the events on Saturday evening, but she had no idea how long it would take to clear up Adalia’s mess.
What if they didn’t let her out on bail?
Of course they’d let her out. It wasn’t like she’d murdered anyone. No, she’d just murdered art.
What in the world had Adalia been thinking? Her baby sister could be flighty, but other than smoking pot in high school and college, she’d never done anything illegal. Georgie couldn’t imagine what had driven her to destroy art. Adalia was a creator. She preserved art. Revered and respected it. Not destroyed it.
Her stomach was in knots and her anxiety was through the roof. She felt lost and helpless, desperate for someone to help her, to hold her hand through this. No, not just someone. Him.
She told herself it was wrong to disturb him in the middle of the night. Still, she didn’t want to be alone, and she and River had agreed to be friends. They’d even shaken on it. Wasn’t this what friends were for? Being there in good times and bad?
She threw on a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt, then tossed her cosmetics bag and an extra business skirt and blouse into her already packed carry-on. Bag in hand, she headed out of the hotel room before she could change her mind.
She nearly turned around multiple times during the drive. This was crazy. It was two a.m. She couldn’t just show up on River’s doorstep, but all the logic in the world couldn’t quell the overwhelming need she felt to be with him. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d held her at the cemetery—how his comfort and his strength had seeped into her. How she craved more of it.
Did that make her weak? Or needy? But she told herself that if she were back in Boston, she’d call Meredith, albeit not until morning, but still…
When she pulled up to his building, she drove around looking for a parking space. But just as she started contemplating whether the lack of a spot was a sign, one opened up a few feet ahead. The timing gave her chills, and Georgie wondered if she’d spent too much time with Dottie. Steeling her resolve, she parked and grabbed her bag out of the back seat so she could change before heading to the airport in a few hours. As she walked to his front door, she realized it was presumptuous to assume she could just stay there, but she knocked anyway. She heard yipping first, then the sound of the lock clicking over.
Play this cool. Don’t fall apart.
When he opened the door, bleary-eyed and with tousled hair, her resolve to not fall apart evaporated, and she threw herself at him.
He instantly enveloped her in his arms, holding her tight. “Georgie. What’s wrong?”
Tears stung her eyes. Relieved tears. It felt so right to be in his arms, like she’d been created to fit River Reeves’s body.
“Georgie?”
She heard the panic in his voice and felt foolish. She knew she should pull away from him, yet she wasn’t ready to let him go yet. “It’s Adalia.” Then she realized that he was probably assuming the worst. “She’s not hurt. But it’s pretty bad.”
He loosened his hold and looked down at her, waiting for her to explain.
“She was arrested for vandalizing a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of art. Because of the high value, it’s a felony.”
Shock covered his face, and she briefly wondered what he thought of her and her family now. If word got out, it would tarnish the Buchanan family reputation.
Oh God. Would it hurt the brewery too?
He looked past her and saw her bag. Releasing her, he fetched it, then brought it inside and shut the door, engaging the deadbolt.
For some reason, knowing she was locked inside with River made her feel more comforted, as though nothing could happen to her here. It was a ridiculous, fanciful thought—Georgie didn’t do fanciful, yet there it was anyway, and since she was letting herself be a stereotypical clingy woman, she might as well go for broke.
Was this how it had started with her mom? One concession at a time?
“Let me make you a cup of tea,” River said, wrapping his arm around her back and leading her to the sofa.
A throw lay in a heap at one end, and Hops leaped up next to it, looking up at her as if to accuse her of not petting him.
Once she sat down, River picked up the puppy and handed him to her. “Here. Maisie says there are very few emotional pains that cuddling puppies can’t ease or cure.”
She took the furball, and Hops snuggled into her chest. “Maisie is a wise woman.”
“Usually…” He grabbed the electric kettle from the kitchen counter and started to fill it up with water. “Tell me everything.”
So she did, starting with Adalia’s strange behavior and the fact that she and Lee, who typically weren’t close, had become chummy. But it was Georgie whom Adalia had called from the police precinct, and she’d asked to come back to Asheville with her too.
River listened attentively, and by the time she’d finished, he’d carried two mugs of tea into the living room, carefully handing her one and keeping the other as he sat in an armchair next to the sofa.
Georgie felt a prick of disappointment, but sitting apart was probably a good idea. The need she felt to feel him close to her, by her side, told her that.
“So, first of all,” River said, leaning forward, the mug still in his hand, “if Adalia wants to come to Asheville, you can skip flying to New York and just have her catch a flight here. She can get released from jail, pack a bag or two, and head straight to the airport.”
“But what about her bail? I need to go pay it.”
“We can find a bail bondsman to do that. If her arraignment’s at eight, the bondsman will likely be able to get her out faster than you can. We just need to contact one.”
“I never would have thought of that,” she said, full of gratitude.
He grimaced. “Let’s just say I’ve bailed out a few friends before.” Then he added, “In my lost years.”
“After your mother left you,” she said quietly.
His eyes widened in surprise, but it quickly faded. “Aunt Dottie.”
“I don’t know anything really. Only the bits and pieces you’ve told me, and then Dottie confirmed what I already suspected.”
His lips pressed together, and he stared into his steaming mug. “So you don’t know any specifics about what Adalia did?”
“No.”
“I guess you’ll just have to wait until you see her this afternoon.”
“Yeah.”
He set his mug on the table and got up, heading for his bedroom. She briefly wondered if he’d had enough of her Buchanan family drama and decided he was going to bed, but he returned seconds later with his tablet and cell phone in hand.
“Since using a bail bondsman never occurred to you, I suspect you don’t have a preference about which one to use,” he said as he sat in the chair and booted up the computer.
She released a short laugh. “No, and let’s hope this is a one-and-done situation.”
“Any chance you have that pad and pen with you?” he asked, giv
ing her a little smile before he started typing.
She produced them from her purse, and when she walked over to hand it to him, she realized he was searching for bail bondsmen.
“Oh, River. You don’t have to do that. That’s not why I’m here.”
He stared up at her, searching her face. “Why are you here? Because you needed a friend?”
“Yes,” she whispered, but it was more than that. She had to admit she liked letting someone take care of her for once. She was so used to taking care of everyone and everything else. To being the one who stepped up, whether people asked her to or not.
But that wasn’t why she’d shown up on his doorstep in the middle of the night. She was here because he made her feel like everything would be okay. When they were together, her frantic soul quieted, and she let herself just be. There was nothing to prove. No one to impress. River liked her just the way she was. It wasn’t safety she craved from him, it was peace.
“Then let me be your friend,” River said, reaching for her hand and squeezing. “You’re an expert at whipping breweries into shape, and I happen to be an expert at acquiring bail bondsmen.” A self-deprecating smile spread over his face. “Maybe I shouldn’t be bragging about that one.”
She smiled, feeling like maybe everything would be okay. “I have my strengths and you have yours. We make a great team.”
He laughed, looking more at ease. “Yeah, we do.”
She realized they were still holding hands about the same time he did, and they both pulled their hands abruptly apart.
With nothing else to do, she sat down on the sofa and curled up with the throw. It smelled like River, filling her with that sense of peace again. That sense of home. Hops climbed onto her lap and she felt herself getting drowsy. Soon she was fast asleep.
Chapter Thirty-Two
She’d come to him. This thing with Adalia had rocked her to her core, and she’d come to him.
River couldn’t stop thinking about that as he made the calls, securing the services of someone called Barracuda Bob, who had, despite the name, come highly recommended. Presuming Adalia posted bail—and the man seemed confident she would—she’d be free to go by 9 a.m. Georgie just needed to call in with her credit card number in the morning.
Any Luck at All: Asheville Brewing #1 Page 24
