Any Luck at All: Asheville Brewing #1

by Denise Grover Swank

  That’s the way he’d answered Jack when the guy had asked if anything had gone wrong with the party planning, and then, after glancing around the loft, where River was calling him from.

  Jack had looked pissed at first, understandably.

  “Did you not read the addition to the employee manual?” he’d asked. “Or did you just fail to understand it?”

  “Oh, I understood it, and we both know why you insisted on making that addition,” River said. “But I’m pretty sure she’s in love with me too. I know about the will now, Jack, and you need to know that I would never, ever sabotage Buchanan Brewery.” He swallowed. “Not just because it’s Georgie’s, but because it was Beau’s.” And because River would never do something like that anyway, but Jack struck him as a guy who liked solid reasons for things.

  “You didn’t know all along?” Jack asked, looking at him as if he were a human lie detector test.

  “I didn’t have a clue. We’d talked about his will before, and he knew I didn’t expect anything from him. He gave me more than enough while he was here.” And as he said it, he knew it was true. Whatever faults Beau had, he’d come by them honestly. He wouldn’t have intentionally made River feel used or disposable, not after all he’d done for him. “He was important to me. That means all of you are important to me too.”

  “But especially Georgie?” Jack asked with that same hint of humor.

  “Especially Georgie.”

  Her half-brother studied him for several seconds before nodding. “What do you want from me?” A corner of his mouth ticked up. “My blessing?”

  “I don’t want to hide that your sister means something to me, and I know she doesn’t want that either. I want that clause about fraternization to go away so we can be together out in the open. No more secrets.”

  He’d chosen the words intentionally, knowing that Jack and his mother had been Prescott Buchanan’s dirty little secret, and it was clear they’d made their mark. He saw the emotion flicker across Jack’s face.

  “My father will never accept you, you know.”

  The way he said it made River wonder just how well the son knew the father, and vice versa. Had they met in secret? Had they had a relationship of some kind? But really it was none of his business, so he simply said what he knew to be true. “I don’t care.”

  Jack nodded, and he thought he could see the glimmer of respect in his eyes. “I’ll do what I can,” he said. Silence hung between them for a moment, and then Jack shrugged, as if to say, My bad. “I’m sorry I misjudged you. I hope we can get to know each other better when I get back.”

  It was on the tip of River’s tongue to ask when that might be, but Jack had continued speaking. “Lee and I talked about the provision, so you’ll probably need his okay to strike it. Maybe I can get Adalia to talk to him. They seem close.”

  There was a tinge of bitterness in his tone.

  “I’ll talk to her,” River said. “She’s here in Asheville.”

  Surprise flickered across Jack’s face, and it was clear he wanted to ask how that had come about—that maybe he was more comfortable talking to River about it than his own siblings—but someone called out his name. A woman, her voice thick with annoyance. And Jack quickly said goodbye and hung up. Although the quick sign-off had intrigued River, he hadn’t taken any time to think about it—he’d picked up his phone and called Adalia.

  He had a key for Aunt Dottie’s place, but there was no need to use it. The door had been propped open, surrounded by bright paper lanterns that surely posed a fire risk, and there was a huge sign next to it that promised Art and Eccentricities. Another sign, reading Libations and Games, featured an arrow pointing out back. Aunt Dottie had a large yard, flattish for Asheville, and apparently they’d come up with some way to use it. Hopefully it didn’t involve drunk trampoline jumping.

  Maybe he should have stayed for the planning meeting after all. How were he and Georgie going to find a private place to talk in what would surely be a madhouse?

  “River?” a familiar voice called out. Josie stepped out of the door, decked out in a fairy costume complete with wings. “It’s me, Josie,” she said unnecessarily. “I’m wearing this to help create a sense of wonder. Dottie’s letting me do fortunes tonight, but don’t worry, she made me agree to a seventy-five-percent rate of positivity.”

  God help the other twenty-five percent.

  “You’re here early,” she commented. “The only other person who’s here is Lurch, and he’s out back setting up the cups for his mystery brew game.”

  Ugh. They’d gone through with the weird beer mixtures.

  “Yeah,” he said, “I had a situation with my dog.”

  My dog.

  Weirdly, he liked the sound of that. Even with everything that had happened this evening, he didn’t regret his decision to keep Hops—okay, he didn’t regret Maisie’s decision to strong-arm him into the adoption. It felt right. Just like this felt right.

  But he found himself remembering Adalia’s text. What had happened with Georgie? What if she’d changed her mind about him? About them? What if it was too late after all?

  “Don’t you look all broody,” Josie said. “I need to channel that look.”

  “Trust me, you don’t,” he muttered. “Do you need help setting up?”

  “Nah,” she said. “We finished everything up with Dottie earlier. But come in and take a look.”

  He did, feeling a pang of uneasiness as he remembered another night, another party setup.

  And a couple of details were reminiscent of the night of the séance. The Beau statue stood in the middle of the living room. He had on a merch shirt, one of the old ones that looked like an explosion was imminent, and someone had added a pair of Bermuda shorts. An empty can of Beau Brown was wedged into his hand. Or at least River hoped it was empty. From a distance, it looked like it could be a Weekend at Bernie’s situation.

  A large box of crystals sat by the door, along with a sign that said, Take One. Or Two! Find the Crystals that Speak to You. Luckily, the pink crystal dick had not been left out as the recommended method of selection, although he was certain it was hidden somewhere within the house. Small blessings.

  The big dining room table had been set up with pads of paper, colored pencils, and even some paints (which were liable to get all over the place if things got really raucous).

  Honor Buchanan as it was. Imagine it as it will be, the sign said. There was a box for finished pieces.

  Another sign advertised fortune-tellings, the arrow pointing toward the room that had been River’s. Find out your future…if you dare, the sign said. In smaller text beneath that, it read, At least ¼ may learn something devastating.

  He followed the sign and discovered a small two-person beach tent that had been set up within the room, taking up nearly all the available space. Although he knew it to be a fortune-telling tent owing to the scarfs that had been chaotically cast over the top, the ends brushing over the open side facing one of the house’s rear-facing window, it didn’t much look like one. It had a design of waves on the side and the slogan Ride the wave, with a little handwritten sign taped up next to it reading of fate. Any larger employees would have to crouch to fit into it.

  For a second, River just stood there and took it in. Then he turned and smiled at Josie, who’d followed him. “This is perfect.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t mind that we put it in here,” Josie said. “Dottie said it was your old room.”

  And his old tent, it looked like.

  “No, I don’t mind at all.”

  “Your aunt suggested it might be a good idea to allow for privacy. You know, in case someone learns something they don’t like. Wait until you see out back!” she said with a grin.

  He headed over to the plate glass door at the back of the living room and looked out. More of those paper lanterns were everywhere, and he had to admit it looked kind of nice beyond being an obvious fire hazard. There was a tub of tiny flashlights just be
yond the door, and he could tell they’d been bedazzled with a generous hand.

  Take one. Make your inner light an outer light, the sign read.

  Lurch stood by a large table of drinks and refreshments—which were luckily not limited to earth tones—making his mixed beers like Frankenstein had his monster, and setting them out on a small side table in red plastic cups. Seeing him, Lurch waved and grinned. He must’ve been sampling what he was pouring, because he’d drawn a smiley face on his bald head with a Sharpie.

  While there wasn’t a trampoline, someone had gotten a giant bouncy castle, which was surely just as questionable. There also looked to be some sort of raffle station, with prizes laid out with buckets in front of them.

  His grin grew wider. This was crazy. This was magical. This was Aunt Dottie, through and through, and not the darker side of her that had been on display that night at the séance. Tonight was about celebration. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the watch. Remembered what his aunt had told him about it. “You guys really went all out, huh? This is going to be the best party Asheville has ever seen.”

  If Georgie came.

  “Just wait until the donkey gets here,” Josie commented. “Aren’t you going to pick your crystal?”

  He reached into the box and picked a pink one, sending up positive wishes as he pocketed it.

  “Can you do me a favor?” he asked, and Josie lit up as if he’d offered to do one for her.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Dottie had tried to get Georgie to leave for the after-party with her, before everyone else took off, but Georgie had dug in her heels. She was still digging them in, although Adalia had taken over where Dottie had left off. There’d been an actual look exchanged between the two as Dottie left, as if she were passing on the baton. But Georgie could be stubborn when the situation required it. She didn’t want to go to the party in the first place, and if they were among the last to arrive, then surely they could leave that much sooner. “I need to straighten up my office.”

  “Please,” Adalia groaned dramatically. “Your desk is so clean you could lick ice cream off it. Let’s go. I’m dying to see the crystal statue in person.”

  Georgie’s brow lifted. “He’s supposed to be wearing clothes now, but with Dottie, there’s no guarantee.”

  “Well, I should hope not,” Adalia said. “I want to see it in all of its glory.”

  Shuddering, Georgie said, “Do I need to remind you that it’s a naked statue of our grandfather? I saw it in person and my retinas are probably permanently scarred. I’m not sure you should risk your art career.”

  Adalia’s smile fell.

  Georgie felt awful for being so flippant. “Sorry, Addy. Your career’s not over, you know.”

  With a weary exhale, Adalia said, “This isn’t about me. It’s about you.” She made a face. “Wait. This is about me. I want to see the crystal dick sculpture, and I need you to make it happen.”

  So Georgie grudgingly agreed to leave, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep stalling for long. Most of the staff had already left.

  The street was lined with cars and Dottie’s entire purple house was lit up. K-pop music boomed from the backyard, seeming wildly incongruous with the location, and the front was filled with paper lanterns—total fire hazard—and a mini Stonehenge, made with three-foot-tall stones and a small water garden in the middle.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Adalia asked as they walked toward the driveway.

  Georgie gave her the side-eye. “If you’re asking if we can time travel to seventeenth-century Scotland by touching the stones, then I find that an acceptable alternative to attending this party.”

  Adalia rolled her eyes. “And I thought that I was the dramatic one. You’re supposed to be the voice of reason.”

  And ordinarily she would be, but she’d held it together for hours, and all she wanted to do was go home, open a bottle of wine, and drown her sorrows. Of course, the only bottle of wine she had in her possession was the second bottle River had left, which made it even more bittersweet. She stopped, then took a slow step backward. “I think I’m going to just head home.”

  “No,” Adalia cried out. “You’re already here. You should at least come in and make an appearance.”

  Georgie cringed. “No…I think it would be better if I just go.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Georgie. Just come inside.” Adalia grabbed her arm and started to tug.

  “Georgie!” Lurch shouted from behind her, and she turned to see him riding on a donkey down the center of the street. “It’s your turn for a ride. You can enter the party like Jesus.”

  Georgie squeezed her eyes shut before opening them again, worried the stress of the day was causing her to hallucinate, but sure enough, Lurch was sitting on top of a donkey while a man in a cowboy hat tugged on the reins, leading them both.

  Bursting out laughing, Adalia exclaimed, “This party just keeps getting better and better. How could you even think of missing this?”

  Ignoring her sister, Georgie scrambled to get out of the way just as she realized what Lurch had said. “Oh, no, no, no, no.” She shook her head vigorously. “I’m not getting on top of that thing.”

  “She really can’t,” Adalia said. “She has to go inside. I’ve heard the statue of Beau is in there, and I need to see it.”

  The man led the animal to the side of the driveway.

  “Not yet,” Lurch said, sliding over the side of the pack animal, but his foot got caught in the saddle. He hung precariously sideways while the animal handler watched in fascination.

  Without giving it a second thought, Georgie rushed over to help. “Oh my goodness! Are you okay?”

  Just before Georgie reached him, Lurch fell to the ground in a heap, landing in a bed of flowers. “I’m okay!”

  But the flowers weren’t. Especially after the donkey dug his back hooves in as if to say, I thought that guy would never get off.

  Adalia’s eyes narrowed and she pointed to Lurch. “Uh…why does he have a smiley face drawn on top of his bald head?”

  “I have no idea,” Georgie said under her breath, although she wasn’t exactly surprised. There was just no end to the crazy when it came to Buchanan Brewery. Edging closer, she asked, “Lurch, are you sure you’re okay?” She resisted the urge to wave her hand in front of her. He reeked of sweat and beer.

  “Yep,” he said as he struggled to get to his feet. He grabbed her arm for help and nearly tugged her over on top of him.

  “Whoa,” Georgie said, bracing herself to pull him up.

  Once on his feet, Lurch fell sideways and pressed her back into the side of the donkey, which, unbelievably, stood stock-still.

  “You’re the best, Georgie,” Lurch said, his face in front of hers, blowing out a cloud of beer breath. “You’re gonna be great at Buchanan.”

  “Um, thanks,” she said, trying to push him away, but the next thing she knew he was shoving her up onto the saddle, his hand on her butt.

  “There you go,” he said. “Upsy-daisy.”

  “Addy!” Georgie called out in a panicked voice. She was straddling the donkey with her dress hiked up high on her thighs, nearly showing her underwear. “A little help?”

  Adalia started to say something, then stopped and grinned. “I don’t have any experience riding donkeys, but I think you kick them in the sides to make them go faster.”

  “Not that kind of help!”

  “She’s right,” Lurch said, staggering in place. “Like this.” Then he grabbed Georgie’s leg and pushed it hard into the donkey’s side.

  The donkey released a loud bray of protest, then took off running—or at least skipping really fast—toward the gate to the backyard, leaving its handler behind.

  Georgie shrieked as the donkey ran through the open gate, tearing a paper banner that read, Enter at the risk of excitement! which had been strung across the opening. Tearing through the paper sent the animal into overdrive.

  Once they were in the
backyard, the donkey ran around the periphery of the fenced space, knocking over a metal tub of beer cans. A few people shouted in surprise, which scared the donkey even more.

  Georgie leaned forward and snagged the reins as the donkey raced toward the bounce house. Bounce house? When had Dottie added a bounce house? Heck, when had she added a donkey? She tugged the reins as hard as she could, and the animal came to an abrupt stop, sending Georgie tumbling over his head and into the inflatable structure.

  She flew head over heels, sprawling out on her back on the bounce house floor, staring up at the ceiling strung with white Christmas lights and streamers. Sparkles filled her vision. Had she hit her head? Did she have a concussion?

  “Oh, my God, Georgie,” Adalia called out breathlessly in the opening. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so.” But she remained spread out, trying to catch her breath and thanking the stars overhead that no one else had been inside.

  Adalia crawled in and knelt next to Georgie, her eyes wide. “Seriously, Georgie. Are you okay?”

  “I think so. How’s the donkey?”

  “The donkey seems fine. Dottie’s begonias, not so much.”

  Georgie still lay on her back. “That’s good. And everything else?”

  “A few cans of beer may have perished, but the video I plan to upload to TikTok should make up for it.”

  Georgie’s eyes flew wide. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Calm down,” Adalia said with a chuckle. “I was too busy running after you to dig out my phone.” She heaved a dramatic sigh, part Scarlett O’Hara, part Gossip Girl, and said, “And I’m sure that will be the biggest regret of my life…”

  The word regret reminded Georgie of the well of it she carried inside her, and tears sprang to her eyes. “I want to go home. Can I go home now?”

  Indecision wavered on Adalia’s face. Without a word, she grabbed Georgie’s hand and pulled her to a sitting position, then tugged her to the opening.