Georgie had heard of people brewing beer in their basements, but it hadn’t occurred to her that Beau or anyone else who ran a brewery might do so. It seemed so old school.
“So how does this work?” she asked, gesturing to the table.
Surprise filled his eyes. “You really want to know?”
“Well…yeah. If I’m going to help run a brewery, I guess I should know how it works.”
His jaw dropped and he blinked. “You’re not selling?”
She shrugged in an attempt to look nonchalant. “I haven’t decided yet, but if I—I mean we—keep it, will we have to do this?”
He grinned. “No… I mean, you can if you want, but you don’t have to. Finn is capable of making beer, but he’s not good enough to create really interesting and layered flavors. That’s where I came in.” Some of his easygoing attitude faded.
“And Finn was your old boss?”
He took a long pull from his bottle—his first, she realized—then said, “Yep.”
Obviously, he didn’t want to talk about it, and although she was curious about what had happened, she didn’t know him well enough to pry. She really needed some levity, at least for tonight. She suspected he did too.
“So you create beer recipes?” she asked, narrowing her eyes as she studied the bottles and tried to put it all together. “This is a test kitchen like you see on those Bon Appétit videos.”
His brow shot up. “I don’t know what those are, but yeah.” His back straightened. “This was Beau’s testing ground.”
“And where is yours?”
He took another drink, then said, “At Big Catch. We had our own testing area.” He flashed her a tight smile. “A testing kitchen, but I work on some at home too.”
Georgie resisted the urge to ask him what had happened. “You said Finn used to be your boss. Where are you now?”
He sucked in a breath and turned his attention to the table. “I’m currently exploring my options.” When he looked at her again, she saw a flash of pain in his dark eyes, but he covered it with a grimace. “Let’s head out to the porch. I’m getting a little claustrophobic down here.”
He headed toward the steps but waited for her to go up first. When she reached the top of the stairs, she gingerly cracked the door open to make sure the cat wasn’t about to pounce on her. Jezebel was still on top of the cabinet, surveying her kingdom, a good ten feet away, although she let out a little hiss to tell Georgie she was watching her.
Georgie hurried across the kitchen to the door leading to the porch, where she and her grandfather had sat and talked less than a month ago. It was hard to believe so much could change in such a short time. She sat in the same wicker chair with the faded and flattened cushion and waited for River to take the seat next to her.
He hesitated before he lowered himself into it, then gave her an awkward grimace. “This was Beau’s chair.”
“Oh.” She sat up. “Would you rather not sit there?”
“No,” he said, sitting back gingerly as though still getting used to the idea. “So…” He let his voice trail off, then said, “So you’re considering keeping the brewery. Before I left the meeting, your family seemed adamant about getting rid of it.”
“Yeah, call me crazy, but I’m thinking about it.” She took a tentative sip of the beer, and the flavor slid over her tongue more easily than before.
River was right; it tasted rich and malty, and about a million times better than the light beer she’d had at that college party.
“Beau called me last month to congratulate me on the sale of my company.” She turned to him. “I don’t even know how he found out. We weren’t close, and truth be told, neither one of us had ever contacted the other before. We only saw him when we were kids. But he was so gracious and complimentary. He knew that I’d started it from nothing and helped revolutionize feminine hygiene products, and he wasn’t even embarrassed by it, not like my father.” She took a sip of the beer. “He asked what I planned to do next, and when I told him I was still figuring it out, he invited me to come visit for a few days. So I did. I’m guessing he changed his will after that.”
“He never mentioned his plans to me specifically,” River said, his gaze on the patchy grass in the backyard as he sipped from his bottle. “I knew he was getting older, but I’ll admit I didn’t want to think about it. I was surprised when I was invited to the will reading. I’d presumed everything would go to your father.”
“All of us did.” She took another pull, enjoying the taste more and more. “But my visit with him was special, and I talked to him on the phone after I got back to Boston.” Tears stung her eyes. “He was encouraging me to relocate to Asheville. He told me the city was booming and there were plenty of opportunities here for an entrepreneur.” She paused. “I think he just wanted a relationship with me, and call me crazy, but I was starting to consider moving.”
In a few weeks’ time, Beau had given her the love, support, and attention she’d always wanted from her father, and the prospect of having him so close had been enticing. But now he was gone and she found herself rudderless again—a businesswoman without a business, or even the inspiration for one—not that she would admit any of that to River.
“The brewery meant something to him,” she said quietly. “And he meant something to me, albeit belatedly. I can’t help thinking that he wanted me to do it. Maybe he was hoping it would bring my sister and my brothers together too.”
She turned to face him, surprised that he was watching her with so much intensity. So much…hope.
“I think you’re right,” he finally said.
They were silent for several long seconds before Georgie said, “Obviously, you know Beau through your great aunt.”
His mouth tipped up with the hint of a smile, and Georgie wondered if some memory had popped into his head.
“I met Beau when I was thirteen. I came to stay with Aunt Dottie and never left. Beau’s the one who taught me how to brew beer and encouraged me to perfect my craft.” He grinned. “I was making beer before I could even drive a car.”
Her eyes widened. “Is that legal?”
Laughing, he took another pull from his bottle. “Probably not, but in fairness to Beau, I wasn’t really drinking it. Just sampling. And Aunt Dottie being Aunt Dottie…well, let’s just say she didn’t put up a fuss. In fact, she encouraged it. Believe it or not, it helped me stay out of trouble.”
“Did you work for Beau when you got older?”
“I knew my way around his operation, but I never did anything other than scut work at Buchanan. I guess you could say I wasn’t sure what I wanted back then.” He glanced at her as he spoke, and she saw her own uncertainty reflected back at her. “I ended up having a lot of jobs. But thanks to Beau, I learned how a brewery works, so when I got the opportunity to work with Finn, I was ready to land on my feet and take off running.” He shot her another glance. “We started with nothing and placed third at the Brewfest Competition in our third year.”
“What’s the Brewfest Competition?”
“It’s where you go to prove you’re somebody in the world of beer. Last year Big Catch placed first…and caught the eye of Bev Corp.” He said the corporation’s name with more than a hint of attitude.
“Where did Buchanan place?”
He grimaced. “They didn’t. They haven’t placed for years.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t sure what to make of that, so she moved on to her next burning question. “And who is Bev Corp?”
A storm of emotion filled his eyes. “The devil.”
Chapter Six
Georgie looked taken aback, and well, okay, he had sounded a bit melodramatic.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“It’s the biggest beer company in the world,” he said, “and they like to buy craft breweries so they can put other craft breweries out of business. Nice trick, huh?”
Her expression didn’t change, and it struck him that she’d just sold her company
. Some big corporation had probably snapped it up, and they likely didn’t care about her vow to be eco-friendly.
Okay, maybe he’d looked her up after her visit with Beau. Moon Goddess still had information about her up on their website. She’d started the operation out of the kitchen in her small apartment in Boston, and it had grown into a company she’d sold for five big ones.
Menstrual cups, period panties, they were the kind of things that made most men cringe, but he admired her guts. She’d seen an opportunity to grow something—and she’d succeeded. Kind of like Beau when he’d opened Asheville’s first brewery years before the town became mainstream. No wonder the two had gotten along so well.
Still, the kind of person who’d sold out once might sell out again. Maybe she was just trying to buff Buchanan Brewery up so she could find a better deal.
But the thought refused to stick. He could tell meeting Beau had changed something for Georgie, just like it had for him. He could honor that. He would honor that.
“Sorry, Georgie,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm before he realized what he was doing. Her skin was soft beneath his fingers in a way that made him want to keep his hand there—or maybe stroke her—but he forced himself to pull away. Her lips had parted a little, and he found himself telling her everything. “I didn’t mean you. I’m just pissed because of what happened with Finn. Tonight, after the will reading, he told me he’s selling to Bev Corp. He’s throwing away everything we built together for a paycheck, and he didn’t even talk to me about it first. He made it out to be like he was doing me some big favor, because they wanted to keep me on and throw some money at me too. But he knows how I feel about staying local.”
“He told you tonight?” she asked, putting the emphasis on tonight. “That’s awful. He should have talked to you, first of all, and he definitely shouldn’t have landed this on you right after you lost Beau.”
He noticed she hadn’t said anything about Finn’s decision to sell, but it would be rude to comment on it. She was being sweet, and he liked it.
“Thank you. I think I needed to hear that.” He lifted his beer to clink it with hers, and realized it was empty. “How are you doing on beer?” he asked.
She gave her bottle a little shake and looked at it in surprise. “Empty. You know, you were right. It was pretty good. Do you have anything else we can try?”
“About six or seven something elses come to mind,” he said with a grin. “I have what’s almost assuredly a bad idea, but I’m hoping you’ll like it.”
Beau had about a dozen tasting cups from various beer festivals, souvenirs he’d kept in the way people hoard things they like, and River had arranged them in two rows on the dining room table—one tasting cup each for each of the beers he’d picked out. A few fruity ones since she liked wine and cocktails, plus a lager, a gingerbread Christmas beer, and a chocolate cherry porter he’d made for Valentine’s Day. She’d never experienced everything that was possible with beer, so he’d figured he might as well offer a wide selection to show her.
They’d made it through all of the fruity ones, which she’d liked more than the amber, plus the lager, which had made her scrunch her nose in a cute way, and the gingerbread. The chocolate cherry was the last one he’d chosen, and he did a drumroll on the table as she lifted it to her lips.
She held it back from her mouth, laughing a little. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to make me laugh when I’m drinking, and this one’s going to end up on your shirt too.”
“Maybe I want it to,” he said. “It might balance out the smell of the other one.”
She made a face and then sipped it, and from the way she kept drinking, he knew they had another winner.
“What do you taste?” he asked as she pulled it away from her lips, which glistened a little from the liquid.
“Mmm. That one was maybe my favorite, even better than the peachy one. Chocolate and cherries but not too sweet.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, making a plus mark next to it in the little chart she’d made. Leave it to a businesswoman to carry around a notepad and pen in her purse. A monogrammed notepad.
“Only one minus and five pluses,” he said. “Guess you like beer more than you thought.”
She grinned at him, a wider, looser grin than earlier. “I guess maybe I do. Although you’re being a little generous with those plus signs. I said the mango sour was interesting. That was a nice way of saying I’m not going back for seconds.”
He hammed up a dramatic frown as he scribbled out the plus sign and added a minus sign next to it on the chart. “Demoted! Does this mean I have to be suspicious of anything you call interesting?”
“No, just the mango sour.” She paused, meeting and holding his gaze. “You, River Reeves, are quite interesting.”
Her eyes sparkled as she said it, and he felt warmth pulse through him. He found her interesting too, and he was running out of reasons why he shouldn’t. She planned on staying, on restoring Beau’s brewery, and he had no doubt she had the brains and means to do it.
But this woman had been to business school—she’d formed a business from nothing—and he was almost thirty and still a few community college classes short of a degree. He’d fumbled his way into the job that he’d quit a few hours ago. He doubted he was Georgie Buchanan’s type, or at least her type for more than one night. And for some reason, that wasn’t what he wanted from her.
“I like the porter too,” he said, clearing his throat and reaching for his tasting cup. The moment shattered, like he’d meant it to. “We sold out at the brewery, but I brought a six-pack over to Beau’s. This one’s all that’s left.”
“I’m glad you did,” she said, reaching for the bottle the porter had come in. “I think I’m going to claim the rest of this one for myself.”
Her phone buzzed again, about the fifth time it had—he’d set his on silent mode after getting yet another message from Finn—and she glanced at the screen before setting it down on the table with a little more force than necessary. She took a big sip of her beer.
“Anything you want to talk about?” he asked. Not to be nosy, or at least not just to be nosy. He’d confided in her, and he wanted her to do the same if she needed to unburden herself.
“Just my brother Lee trying to talk me around. He wants to sell, or at least his girlfriend and my father have convinced him he does. But I think this could be good for Adalia, even if she doesn’t agree, and for Jack too.” Her face twisted up a little when she said it, and he felt sorry for asking. The last thing he wanted was to upset her. Tonight was about having fun, forgetting a few of their worries. “Maybe especially for Jack,” she added.
“You’d really never met him before?” he asked, because despite himself he was interested.
“No,” she said, taking another sip from the bottle, pausing a little to savor the taste in a way that made him smile. “Lee works with our dad in the real estate firm. I’d say the family firm, but I’d argue it can’t really be called that when it’s just the two of them. Anyway, he was looking for some files in my dad’s office, and he found a nondisclosure agreement. My dad made Jack’s mother sign it in exchange for a big one-time payout. My half-brother’s name was in there, but I had no idea where he lived or anything.”
She paused, looking into his eyes. “Truth be told, I didn’t look very hard. I wanted to meet him, but I wasn’t sure what I’d say. I was ashamed of our father—of being one of the kids he acknowledged. Lee thought it best for us to both forget the whole thing, although he did tell me so we could decide together.”
She glanced down, as if embarrassed, and he found himself staring at the freckles on the bridge of her nose. They almost looked like a constellation.
“I shouldn’t be laying all of this on you. I’d blame the beer, but it’s my fault we kept Jack a secret. Well, Lee’s too. We could have sought him out and we didn’t. So I want to make sure he gets plenty of say in what we do. Although, I’ll be honest
with you, I don’t know the first thing about running a brewery. I’m not even sure there’s even room for four of us if we’d just be replacing Beau.”
“You’d find a way,” River said, believing it. He reached out to touch her arm. “Beau had zero social media presence. Someone can handle that, maybe Adalia. And if you grow the brewery, there’ll be new jobs. Things like event management or opening a new location. Beau, he liked doing things the old-fashioned way, but he knew it wouldn’t last forever. He knew things would have to change. That’s why he trusted you to do the changing for him.”
Something flashed in her eyes, and she smiled at him—a smile so bright he had to pull his hand away to keep himself from pulling her to him.
“You’re right. And maybe they’ll have ideas for how they can contribute. I always think I need a plan for everything, but sometimes I need to be reminded to ask other people for help.”
“I think we all need that,” he said. It was something Aunt Dottie had told him often enough in the days he’d struggled.
“You know,” she said, setting down the bottle. “I came over here partly because I wanted to avoid talking to Jack. I know I need to do it, but I feel so guilty I can hardly stand it.”
“Why don’t you ask him to come over?” he suggested on impulse. He didn’t really want to end their tête-à-tête, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. If someone else was added to the equation, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to make a fool of himself. Besides which, he remembered the way Jack had sat in that meeting, his back rigid as he looked at the father who refused to acknowledge him and the siblings who didn’t know him. He’d felt sympathy for him—no, more than that, empathy. If Georgie wanted to talk to him, she should, and there was no time like the present. Waiting on something like that would likely only lead to more regret. “If you don’t sell, this is his house too,” he added. “He might as well see it before he makes his vote.”
Any Luck at All Page 5