Getting Lucky (Asheville Brewing Book 3)

by Denise Grover Swank

  Still, they didn’t hurry back. They both used the bathroom, then laughed about the three varieties of soap. Maisie suggested they use each of them to lengthen their trip, and so they did, both of them wrinkling their noses at the snowman scent.

  “Why would a snowman have a scent anyway?” Georgie asked as they headed back to the tearoom.

  “Only yellow snow has a scent,” Maisie said. “And trust me, no one would want their hands to smell like that. Or if they did, they wouldn’t bother washing them.”

  As they neared the room, shouting could be heard behind the door. They exchanged a glance, and Maisie opened it. Victoria was on her feet, waving a teacup in Dottie’s face. Two additional teacups sat atop the table in front of Dottie, along with three saucers.

  “Check it again,” Victoria insisted. “You must be interpreting it wrong.”

  Dottie looked as calm as if she were meditating. “Dear, it’s the third teacup you’ve given me, and the image is still the same. I suspect it would be if you drank the whole pot.”

  Victoria had downed three cups of tea in the time they’d been gone?

  “But you said a fish can be a symbol of fertility. Maybe that’s what you saw.”

  “Yes, but a fish in water symbolizes a goal that will be subverted. Of course, none of us know what that goal might be.”

  “How could it not be in water?” Victoria screeched. “It’s at the bottom of a cup of tea.”

  Adalia huffed a laugh, and Iris grinned at her.

  Maisie and Georgie exchanged a look and then headed into the room and took their seats.

  “So, what did we miss?” Maisie said. “Besides Dottie dashing Victoria’s hopes, of course.”

  “Mine had flying birds,” Iris said, lifting her cup slightly. “It’s a sign of good news.”

  Of course, she’d had good news already, from what she’d said the other day, although Maisie still didn’t know what it entailed.

  Dottie beamed at her. “Yes, I’ve rarely seen a happier cup.”

  How anyone could see anything in the small speckling of leaves that had escaped was beyond Maisie, but if it pissed Victoria off and made Iris happy, she wouldn’t object.

  The attendant knocked slightly on the door, then entered with a tray topped with three different small carafes of milk. The woman was clearly hedging her bets, which was not unwise. Of course, Maisie and Georgie had been gone awhile. For all she knew, Victoria had asked for a different carafe to accompany each of her cups of tea. The server was behind Victoria, so Victoria didn’t see her when she flung the teacup at the floor. She’d probably intended to break it, but the floor was carpeted, and it merely bounced, flinging a few tea leaves up in the air.

  “I’m tired of your game,” she said in a huff, and headed back to her seat next to Maisie, sniffing in an aggrieved manner.

  The attendant gasped, but she wisely didn’t say anything as she lowered the tray of milk next to Victoria.

  “Did you have to milk the cow?” Victoria snapped. Then she made a dismissive gesture. “I don’t need it anymore. Take the coffee away and get me a vodka tonic.” She pointed to the mess on the carpet. “And clean up that mess when you get back. It looks like someone dropped a teacup.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the woman said, backing away in the manner of someone trying not to enrage a psychopath.

  “You threw it in front of all of us,” Adalia said. “Are you suffering from memory issues?” Victoria’s mouth dropped open, but before she could say anything, Adalia said, “Let’s just move on to our private wine tasting. I think we could all use a drink.”

  “Yes,” Dottie said, “quite. Doing this many readings at one time has made me very thirsty. Are you sure you wouldn’t care for a red petit four, Victoria? Your energy could really use some cleansing. Even the tea leaves on the floor form quite a disturbing pattern.”

  “I only drink wine from organic grapes,” Victoria said flatly. “Are the grapes one hundred percent organic?”

  The server swallowed, the bottle she held hovering over Victoria’s tasting glass.

  “Yes,” Maisie interjected. “And they play soft music to them to make the wine taste sweeter.”

  At a tight nod from Victoria, who gave Maisie a look to tell her she would personally hold her accountable if the wine was disagreeable, the server poured her a taste.

  She checked her phone, but Jack still hadn’t responded to her message—I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone. Victoria is something else. Can’t wait to see you.

  Georgie had been sitting in the corner with her phone too, probably texting with River, and Maisie was half tempted to go over and ask her what was going on with the guys. Except Adalia looked like she was at her breaking point with Victoria, and if she stepped away for a second, she suspected Iris would help herself to the wine in her tasting glass.

  She shot Iris a look. “It’s not that good.”

  The server’s immediate reaction was to smile—a slight tipping up of the lips before she turned her back on them to grab another bottle.

  “Still, it’s not fair,” Iris said, rolling her eyes. “Teenagers can drink in Europe.”

  “Yes, well, in Europe, teenagers are seen but not heard,” Victoria said with another of her sniffs.

  “That’s a very medieval attitude, dear,” Dottie said, clucking her tongue. “Also, not very true from my observations. I do hope your parents didn’t treat you that way.”

  Another sniff.

  “Are you coming down with a cold?” Dottie asked. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a small, unmarked bottle. “I have just the remedy for that.”

  Maisie missed whatever was said next, though, because her phone finally buzzed.

  I’m going home, Maisie. I don’t belong here.

  Which meant Lee was acting like a douche-nozzle—big surprise there. The comment hinted at a deep hurt she’d sensed but not seen. His feelings toward the Buchanans were clearly a source of confusion to him.

  Don’t go anywhere, Maisie typed. I’m leaving now. It was five, so she’d get there early, but it took an unreasonably long time to leave the Biltmore anyway. The arrangement was that she’d drop Dottie off at the Buchanan house and then drive the Range Rover back to Finn’s. The other women would be picked up by a car service when they were ready to go home, and the bachelor party would be driven around to the breweries in a van chauffeured by Lurch. An agreement Maisie had only consented to since Dottie had insisted he’d be on his best behavior.

  She glanced up to see Iris studying her. Had she seen the messages? She knew Jack wasn’t ready to tell Iris they meant something to each other, but the kid was smart.

  “You’re leaving?” Iris asked.

  “Yeah, I think Jack might need a save.”

  “What about me?”

  “Oh, you’re strong enough to deal with anything this crew has to throw at you.”

  “I like that you see me that way,” Iris said softly, her tone more serious than Maisie was accustomed to from her. “You see both of us better than most people do.” She took something out of her bag, a folded note enclosed in an envelope. “Give this to Jack when you see him.”

  “A handwritten note? Did you body-swap with a boomer?”

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny,” Iris said, rolling her eyes. “No, but my brother might as well have. He insists on reading paper books instead of getting an e-reader, plus he’s a letter writer. He always wrote to me three times a week when I was at sleepaway camp, even though we talked on the phone. And—”

  Victoria spat out liquid, spraying Iris and Maisie.

  “Was that poison?” she shouted, pointing a finger at Dottie. “Did you poison me?”

  “Of course not,” Dottie said calmly as Iris gave Victoria a disgusted look and grabbed some napkins off the countertop, silently handing one to Maisie.

  “I should have warned you about Dottie’s ‘cures,’” Adalia said with a smirk that suggested she’d purposefully kept quiet. “They usually work
, but sometimes they’re worse than what they’re supposed to fix.”

  Victoria got to her feet, giving Adalia a look of wounded dignity. “I’m leaving, but you can be sure Lee is going to hear about this. Your father too.”

  “I sure hope so,” Adalia said.

  “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, Georgie?” Victoria said, lifting an eyebrow. There were flecks of red wine all over her white cardigan, which slightly undercut the lofty air she was trying to put on.

  “Have a good night, Victoria. I’ve heard the spa at the Grove Park Inn is really nice. Maybe you’ll have more fun there.”

  Victoria made an unpleasant sound that reminded Maisie of a cat coughing up a hairball. “If I wanted to go to a spa, I would go in Manhattan.” She glanced back and forth between Adalia and Georgie. “Honestly, it’s as if the Buchanan blood skipped both of you.”

  Adalia lifted her glass to Georgie, who clinked it with hers. “You honestly couldn’t have given us a better compliment,” she said.

  Another withering glare, and Victoria stormed off, heels clicking on the stone floor.

  “Toodles!” Adalia called out after her. “See you tomorrow!”

  “How long do you think it’s going to take her to remember that we drove here together?” Maisie asked with a smirk.

  “Now, girls,” Dottie said, a touch of admonition in her tone. “Your father is a Buchanan, yes, but don’t let that destroy your impression of the family. Your grandfather Beau was a good man.”

  “I know, Dottie,” Georgie said.

  Adalia just gave a “hm” and nodded. No doubt she was thinking of Beau’s crazy will, complete with enough stipulations to have nearly given his attorney a heart attack when presenting it to the Buchanans. Or so she’d heard. Maisie had liked Beau, but he’d been far from perfect. He’d been warm, though. Something Prescott—and probably Lee—clearly lacked.

  “I’m going to head over to the bachelor party a little early,” Maisie said, pushing her nearly untouched tasting glass away. She tucked Iris’s note into her bag, giving her a private nod. “That okay, Dottie?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I need to do some meditation to replenish my chi. That woman could drain all of the good energy out of a shaman.”

  “You said it, not me,” Adalia said. She glanced from Georgie to Iris. “So it’ll just be us sisters, huh?”

  Georgie grinned.

  Iris smiled too, like she was trying to fight it but couldn’t quite muster the energy. “Does this mean I get to take part in the tasting?”

  Adalia winked at her. “Maybe a little sip. But you’ll have to earn it by painting your toenails with us tonight and watching terrible chick flicks.”

  “Done,” Iris said, quickly enough that it was clear the thought of an evening with Jack’s half-sisters didn’t sound so terrible to her anymore.

  “Ready, Dottie?” Maisie said, grabbing the keys from Adalia.

  “Oh yes, I’ve been preparing for this.”

  “You’re intentionally leading us on, aren’t you? No one likes a tease, Dottie.”

  Dottie just gave her an enigmatic smile, and they said goodbye to the others, Dottie whispering something to Iris before they walked off.

  “You still think Lee is ‘a good sort’?” Maisie asked as they made their way to the Range Rover. “Because I’m thinking he must be a piece of work if he’s spent months dating that woman.”

  “Lee is the most lost of any of them,” she said with a sigh, patting her lilac hair. “Which only means he’ll need the most help.”

  They got into the car, Maisie trying to process what Dottie was saying.

  “How are you going to help him, Dottie? He lives in Manhattan, and he works right under his father’s thumb.”

  “Oh, the universe has its ways.” She made a swatting gesture, as if to hasten it along.

  They started the drive back to the gates, the view pleasant even in the winter, if less stunning than in the other seasons.

  “Well,” Maisie said after a short silence. “Lee sounds like a dick. He’s making Jack feel like he doesn’t belong.”

  Dottie made a little humming sound under her breath. “So often we displace our own feelings onto others.”

  Maisie snorted. “You sound like Yoda, except without the weird speech pattern.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She paused. “Still, if everyone at the party is distracted, and you and Jack find yourselves able to slip away, you might want to stop by the restaurant. At seven-thirty, say. I don’t plan on talking about anything of importance until after the meal. The food is quite good. Lurch gave me your schedule, and I believe you’ll be at Libations Brewing at that time. A short walk to Shebeen. I reserved a table for Prescott and me right behind the bar. There are some bushes that would separate us, but I don’t imagine they’d block out any sound. It might be prudent to record the conversation, if you feel so inclined. I’ve heard it’s easy to do that sort of thing these days.”

  “Dottie,” Maisie said in disbelief, “did you just invite us to eavesdrop?”

  “Well, my dear, if you need me to spell it out, you should hone your intuition. I have a friend who can help you with that.”

  Of course she did.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Any other time, Jack would have loved watching The Big Lebowski for the umpteenth time, but he was distracted by a half dozen things, none of them good. No, that wasn’t true. Tyrion hadn’t left his side. He’d even followed him into the bathroom and watched him send Maisie a text.

  Is it six yet?

  She hadn’t answered by the time he finished up and checked his phone.

  “I hope that means she’s having a better time than I am,” he mumbled.

  Tyrion released a small whine and rubbed his head against Jack’s leg.

  “Sorry, buddy,” Jack said, squatting next to him and scratching both sides of his face. “It’s not you. You know I love hanging out with you. In fact, I’m not sure I could have gotten through this afternoon without you.”

  Tyrion licked his face, and Jack laughed as he got to his feet. “Love you too, but we can’t hide in here any longer. We better head back out there.”

  So he had. Finn had looked relieved to see him at least, like he’d thought Jack might have tried climbing out of the high, narrow window in the bathroom and pulling Tyrion through with him. They’d paused the movie for him, and the awkwardness was such a presence, it was like another guest. Poor River. It wasn’t much of a party so far, and it probably wouldn’t be as long as Little Lord Fauntleroy hung around. Finn was doing his best, talking about real estate in an animated manner that didn’t match the subject matter, but not even Finn could add life to this party.

  They finished the movie and Jack nearly groaned in agony when he realized they had over an hour to kill before Maisie and Lurch were supposed to show up for the brewery tour. It felt like he’d died and gotten stuck in the inner circle of Dante’s inferno.

  They sat in uncomfortable silence for several seconds before Lee pushed himself out of his chair. “I’m going to head to the bathroom.”

  As soon as he was out of the room, Finn and River exchanged a look. They were clearly dying to talk, but River cast Jack a sideways glance.

  “I could use some fresh air,” Jack said as he got to his feet. “I’ll take Tyrion out to pee.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Finn said, a guilty look washing over his face. “He’s my responsibility.”

  “Nah,” Jack said as he grabbed his coat off the rack and shoved his arms into the sleeves. “I take him out all the time. We’re pals.”

  “Well, you don’t need to walk him,” Finn said as he and River started toward the kitchen. “Addy and I took him on a three-mile hike this morning. He’s good.”

  “Okay,” Jack said as he opened the front door. Once they were on the porch, he glanced down at Tyrion. “Don’t worry. We’ll be out here for a while, so you’ll have plenty of time to s
niff around.” Could he get away with spending the next hour outside?

  Tyrion was eager to check out the front yard, so Jack trailed behind, giving him plenty of slack on his retractable leash. He considered taking it off since Tyrion hadn’t run off in over a month, but he didn’t want to chance it.

  Tyrion sniffed around for several minutes, peeing on a couple of trees next to the neighbor’s yard, but then he went still and turned his attention to the street.

  A black sedan was headed toward them, slowing down as it neared the house. Tyrion continued to watch, and a lump filled Jack’s stomach when he realized who was driving.

  The car parked in front of the house, and the driver’s door opened. A distinguished older man in a tailored suit got out. He walked around the hood of his rented car and stood on the curb, his gaze scanning the house. His cold stare made Jack think he was inventorying the place, trying to figure out if it was worth his time to enter. He must have decided the pleasure he would take in making a bad party worse outweighed the possibility he’d catch some deadly disease from Finn’s half-a-million-dollar house, because he started up the sidewalk. Then, halfway up the walk, he stopped and turned to face Jack.

  Prescott Buchanan’s lip curled as that cold, calculating gaze swept over his son.

  Tyrion walked up beside Jack, pressing his solid body into Jack’s leg.

  “Don’t worry. I have no interest in talking to you,” Jack said in disgust.

  His father lifted his chin and sniffed. “I guess you’re not moving as far up in the world as you thought.” An amused look filled his eyes as he nodded toward Tyrion. “You’ve been relegated to cleaning up dog waste.”

  Anger burned in Jack’s chest, and his hand tightened on the leash. “I take it you’ve never had a pet, Prescott?”

  The older man gave him a confused look, somehow still full of disdain. “No.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Jack said. “Pet owners are compassionate and empathetic. They treat other people with respect. You seem incapable of thinking of anyone other than yourself.”