All the Luck You Need (Asheville Brewing)

by A. R. Casella

  Dottie very nearly laughed. Before coming here, she’d told anyone who’d asked, and many who didn’t, why she was moving to Asheville. The art scene, yes, and the funny, brightly colored bungalows. The mountains, for certain. But the crystals that grew beneath Asheville were what made it such a nexus of positive energy. So, in a roundabout way, they were the reason she’d decided to stake her second life here. Instead of saying any of that, she fished open a drawer in the lovely storage hutch a friend had made for her from reclaimed wood—a beautiful piece, full of whorls and dips from where woodpeckers had damaged the wood, and…what was she doing?

  Ah, yes. The crystal. She removed a large piece, full of positive energy she hoped would leak into Kate and stop whatever she was planning.

  Because the twist of Kate’s mouth was bitter, and it was clear she didn’t intend to let Dottie go unscathed for winning the battle for Leonard.

  “And a scarf?” Kate suggested. “It’ll help establish the mood.”

  Dottie caught Leda rolling her eyes as she sipped more of the punch and whispered, “A true fortune teller shouldn’t need to establish any mood,” in a booming undertone. Dottie retrieved a red scarf from another drawer, and Kate arranged it atop the coffee table, which they moved into the center of the circle. The crystal went on top of it.

  At least she hadn’t attempted to put the scarf around her head.

  “Dim the lights,” she said, her voice ringing with plenty of gravitas.

  This was interesting. Dottie had never seen Kate read fortunes before, and although she sensed little good could come of it, she was intrigued despite herself. And she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Kate did have the ability to see past the veil. Because it was possible. Dottie believed in that truth as firmly as she did that an Aries and a Cancer would make disharmonious partners.

  What was Beau’s star sign?

  He harumphed from the corner he’d claimed with River. “Good thing we have a lamp, huh, young man?”

  River grinned up at him. “Go fish!”

  And Dottie’s heart opened a little more. He’d seen fit to entertain her nephew, when all of the other guests, including his own mother, had ignored him.

  He was a good man, Beau Buchanan, if a bit gruff.

  But she’d be lying to herself if she said his gruffness didn’t intrigue her too. It made her want to see more of what lay on the other side of it.

  She felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the thought that they would be doing a tasting together Monday afternoon. It was at the dust factory, unfortunately, but she had every intention of going in early to see what she could do to transform the place.

  In the future, perhaps she could convince Beau to hold tastings somewhere else. They could bring the sales folk out for a lovely picnic in a clearing by a stream, or they could even do it here, on her bean bag chairs.

  Something told her Beau wasn’t quite ready for that, but the way he’d gamely adapted to Kate’s disruptions this evening suggested he was the kind of man who might allow for new ideas. She certainly hoped so.

  Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself. Just yesterday, she’d been determined she would never again let another man into her life, specifically not another Beau. But she hadn’t expected him to be like this, like a puzzle she wanted to solve.

  Kate cleared her throat impatiently.

  “Something caught in your throat, dear? I have a cure for that.”

  Her niece shuddered dramatically. “I think I’ve had enough of your cures to last a lifetime. They may work, but only because they send your system into shock. Don’t even get me started on the hangover cure you gave to Uncle Beau’s friend.”

  “Interesting,” Leda said with approval. “I’d love to hear more sometime, Dottie.”

  “And I’m sure she’ll enjoy telling you at great length.”

  “I’ve been working on a recipe of my own,” Leda continued, paying her no mind.

  Luke cringed a little. “Lee, the last time you gave me a hangover cure, I had to go to the emergency room.”

  “You weren’t hung over anymore, were you?”

  “No, no, I suppose not,” he said nervously, rubbing his brow.

  “Well, let’s get started,” Dottie said, feeling they’d gotten a touch sidetracked. From the look she’d seen Beau give Leda just now, he also remembered the emergency room incident and didn’t appreciate it. She dimmed the lights to Kate’s satisfaction, something that took several tries, then Leda approached the table, her gaze narrowed and suspicious as she laid her hands on the top, palms up, per Kate’s request.

  Kate touched the crystal, first just with her fingertips, and then both palms, one on either side. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a line had furrowed her brow.

  Dottie didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing until Kate opened her eyes again and the breath whooshed out of her.

  Goodness.

  Leda, who’d gone into the exercise with plenty of skepticism, seemed equally impressed. She’d leaned forward slightly, tilting her head to study Kate and the crystal, which was a lovely piece, white with golden veins that seemed to be throbbing under the low lighting.

  “You’re underappreciated as an artist,” Kate said, her voice an octave lower than normal.

  “Yes,” Leda said, her hands flexing. “People don’t respect clowns as they should.”

  A wicked twitch of Kate’s lips broke the spell for Dottie—this was all part of her niece’s game, her act—but she could see that Kate was making a believer of Leda.

  “You’re misunderstood. The people around you don’t appreciate strong women.”

  Again, Leda nodded.

  “Your partner is a weak man. Weak-minded and weak-willed.”

  Another nod.

  Luke didn’t react at all. Then again, he’d been guzzling his own punch for the better part of an hour, and his eyes had a glazed look. Still, Dottie heard another little harumph from Beau, and she couldn’t deny that he might be right about her new friends. Perhaps they weren’t meant for each other after all.

  From what she knew of Luke, he might not win a spelling bee, but he was loyal to the bone, and for someone who’d taught himself to brew, he made a fine beer. He deserved to be with someone who admired those qualities—just as Leda deserved to be with a man she considered her intellectual equal.

  Kate made a dramatic gasp, pulling her fingers off the crystal as if it had burned her.

  “What did you see?” Leda asked, leaning in so close her head was only inches from the stone.

  “Your man has been unfaithful to you.” Her eyes flashed to Dottie for a split second, that smile cresting her mouth, before her full attention shifted back to Leda. “With another artist. They were together on Friday night.”

  Chapter Seven

  Everything happened at once after that. Leda reached for the crystal, her eyes twin fires, and threw it at Luke. Given the artful way he dodged it, it seemed likely it wasn’t the first time he’d had something thrown at him. It only clipped his arm, eliciting an eardrum-piercing yelp. And then fell to the floor, gouging a hole in the floorboard.

  “You bastard,” she shouted, lunging at him, but suddenly Beau, who must have been paying more attention than he’d pretended, stepped in the way, hands out to placate her. Luke cringed behind him, much too large to be adequately shielded, and she started reaching behind Beau to slap at him. “How dare you. Another artist!”

  From the way she said it, it was unclear what bothered her more—that he’d supposedly been unfaithful to her or her art.

  “Leda, he was at the brewery on Friday night. He dropped Dottie off so he could go home to—”

  “You,” Leda said, turning on Dottie, her voice thick with betrayal. “It was you all along.”

  Which was, of course, exactly what Kate had meant for her to think, but judging from the look of shock on Kate’s face, she hadn’t anticipated such a volatile reaction.

  “Now, Leda,” Dottie said, at the same time as Lu
ke said, “Lee, I would never. I haven’t even looked at another painting in months.”

  “Don’t you mean another woman?” Beau asked in an undertone. He had shifted slightly, as if prepared to move at a moment’s notice should Leda decide she’d rather attack Dottie than Luke.

  “Uh. The image was unclear and subject to interpretation,” Kate said. “It’s possible I didn’t see it correctly.” She was trying to walk back what she’d started, while also literally walking away, toward the wall, but it was too late. One look at Leda said she wasn’t listening.

  “You told me last week you weren’t interested in finding another man,” Leda said to Dottie, her expression and tone intent. “You said the man you divorced was the very last man you would ever invite into your home or your bed. Now, you tell me the truth, Dottie Hendrickson. Have you changed your mind?”

  Dottie believed in being truthful, wherever possible, and Beau’s gallant attempt to save her and Luke had crystallized her interest in him. He was an intriguing man, and she wanted to know more before she rejected the possibilities that had been revealed to her—even if his name was an unfortunate coincidence. So she said, “I must admit that I have, Leda, but it’s not—”

  Only she didn’t get very far, because Leda was lunging at her, and although Beau attempted to intercept her, it was clear he wasn’t going to get there fast enough.

  But someone else did.

  River stepped in front of her, bless him, and before Dottie could push him out of the way, Leda staggered to a stop, the steam going out of her.

  “My aunt would never do something like that, Miss Leda. She doesn’t abide by liars or cheats, do you, Aunt Dottie?” He looked up at her with such sweet, unwavering belief, Dottie felt tears prick her eyes.

  “No, my dear, I do not,” she said, her eyes seeking out Leda’s. “Someone hurt me that way once, and I would never, ever do that to anyone else.”

  Something Kate knew very well. Which made her little game that much more hurtful. Dottie felt her niece’s eyes on her, but she didn’t turn to look at her, recognizing the importance of holding Leda’s gaze. The woman was still regarding her with open distrust, but River’s selfless act had taken the edge off her rage.

  “I think I’ve had about enough of this party,” she said darkly. Her gaze shifted to Kate, who took yet another step back, bumping into the wall.

  Dottie let her hands rest on River’s shoulders, giving him a little squeeze to show him how very much she loved him. “Yes, should we go?” Luke said. He reached for the drawing Dottie had given him, then promptly dropped it when Leda gave him a look that would melt metal.

  Beau gaped at his friend in open disbelief. And Dottie had to admit that such a mercurial relationship would never work out. Nor should it. Their sun signs had to be in serious misalignment.

  “I’m going home alone,” Leda said. “She may have been wrong about Dottie,” although it was obvious her suspicions hadn’t totally disappeared, “but she wasn’t wrong about you.”

  With that, she stalked off, pausing only to grab the gift she’d brought, tucking the frame under her arm as she gave Dottie a dark look. “The painting of peonies over your fire isn’t nearly abstract enough,” she said in a parting remark.

  Dottie clucked her tongue as the door shut behind Leda. “She let her artist’s temperament get away from her tonight. I must say, I think she brought things a little too far.”

  “Are you referring to her comment on your painting?” Beau asked. “I’m a man who likes a peony to look like a peony.”

  A smile snuck onto her lips. “I can’t imagine she meant that. She was just saying it to hurt me. I was referring to the unfortunate incident with the crystal.”

  His mouth twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. She sensed some anger behind it, although she couldn’t tell if it was directed toward Kate or her. “If that’s ‘a little too far,’ I’d hate to see your version of an overreaction.” It looked like he had more to say, especially about Kate, but he glanced at River, then rubbed his mouth and kept his peace.

  Luke had a peaky look, as if he hadn’t eaten enough protein, and Dottie led River over to the spread of food so she could fix a snack for the poor man.

  While they were at the table, Kate disappeared into her room. Dottie had a sinking sensation in her gut as River proudly took the plate over to their guest.

  “Oh, I couldn’t eat anything,” Luke said, then lifted a slice of sausage to his mouth and bit off a sizable chunk.

  “I’m leaving,” Kate said, sweeping out of her room with a bag. She paused only for long enough to pat River’s head. “Don’t worry if I’m not back for a while.”

  That was Kate. Always creating disasters and then leaving everyone else to deal with them. But she hadn’t fully succeeded tonight. Although no one could call the party a complete success, Dottie had at least fulfilled one of her objectives. Doris and Leonard had found their way to each other. Kate couldn’t take that away from them, or from Dottie, however much she might like to.

  River ran up to his mother, reaching her just before she left the door, and hugged her from behind. She patted him distractedly, then pulled away and left.

  Again, Beau looked like he wanted to say something, and again he did not. His mouth had hardened into an ungenerous line, however, and she thought he might be angry. Did he blame this on her? While it arguably would never have happened if not for Dottie, she’d learned long ago to stop shouldering the responsibility for other people’s actions. She hadn’t encouraged Kate, nor did she condone her actions. She was angry at her niece, yes, but the last thing she would ever do was rage at her in front of River. Besides, raging at Kate would be about as effective as yelling at a brick wall. If she wanted to be heard, it would have to be in a different way. Perhaps she should make Kate a necklace to absorb the harmful energy flooding her body, looking for release.

  Finally, Beau nodded to Luke. “I’d better get him back to my house. We don’t want to intrude on your hospitality any longer.”

  “My life is ruined,” Luke said darkly.

  “Hardly, old friend.” Beau patted him on the back. “We’ll get you through this, the same as we always do.”

  He looked Dottie in the eye then. “Meet me at the brewery at three forty-five on Monday for the tasting,” he said. “It’ll begin at four.”

  “I may want to bring a few things to give the space a little more positive energy,” she said.

  Beau chuckled. “Well, I hope it’s more successful there than it was here.”

  He had a point, so she didn’t attempt to argue; she just nodded. “Indeed.”

  “And no crystals larger than baseballs. If they don’t like my beer, we don’t want to give them anything to throw at us.”

  There was a wry twist to his mouth as he said it. If he was angry with her, it hadn’t stripped him of his sense of humor, at least. She could appreciate that.

  “I am sorry for what happened,” she said to Luke as they made their way to the door. River was trailing after her, holding the back of her shirt as if he were a much younger child. “Sometimes an artistic temperament can lead to mercurial behavior. And my niece made some…questionable decisions. But I must say, you and Leda may be a mismatch. I suspect you can find someone who’s a more harmonious fit.”

  “And I suppose you’d be happy to help him, as you did with your young friends?” Beau asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “Of course.”

  He shook his head as if to say she was incorrigible, but he didn’t seem to altogether mind.

  “We’ve broken up twenty-six times,” Luke said. “I have to believe this isn’t the end. She’ll take me back.”

  Oh, dear. That didn’t sound good at all.

  Before they swept out of the door, leaving her alone with River, Beau reached down and tousled her great-nephew’s hair. “Thank you for spending time with me this evening, son. You did a good thing, protecting your aunt. I’m proud of you.”
/>   Dottie’s heart opened a little more at that, light pouring in.

  “Good night, Beau. Luke.”

  River looked up at them, beaming now, and called out, “Good night!”

  Beau made a gesture as if tipping an imaginary hat to her, and the two men left.

  “Well, my dear, what do you say we clean all of this up?”

  River looked around doubtfully, taking in the crystal, the chipped floor, the array of food.

  “I guess we don’t have a choice, do we?”

  “There’s always a choice, my dear. But if we leave it like this, it’ll be even worse tomorrow, and we won’t be able to enjoy any of the leftovers.”

  He didn’t look tired, and she didn’t feel tired, so even though it was getting late, she added, “Besides, once it’s cleaned up, we can paint together before bed.”

  River grinned. “Really, Aunt Dottie?”

  “Really.”

  They could both use a little joy.

  After they painted, River producing a beautiful landscape that she decided to frame and hang next to the fireplace, she put him to bed.

  “I like your new friend,” he said to her, once he was tucked beneath the blankets. “Maybe it’s wrong to say so, but I like him better than Uncle Beau.”

  “Yes, River, so do I.”

  She stayed up late, planning what to bring to the brewery on Monday to create an atmosphere that would open hearts and minds. And it came as no surprise that Kate didn’t return.

  She tried not to worry.

  She tried not to wish Kate were different.

  She tried not to wish that River could stay here forever, safe in his little room, or that Kate would live here too. That she would find roots that she liked and decide to stick around.

  But the truth was, there were some things even Dottie Hendrickson couldn’t fix.

  Chapter Eight

  Dottie was up before River the next morning, and decided to let him sleep for as long as he could.

  Kate still hadn’t come home.