Any Luck at All

by Denise Grover Swank

  So he put Hops in his crate and headed over to Flint Street for the second time that night.

  His phone buzzed again on the seat beside him, and when he checked it at a red light, he saw Finn’s latest text: I think she’s heading to Beau’s. Plan is to intercept once she gets there.

  Which meant River would have to go there too. Finn didn’t even know Georgie had moved back in.

  Should he warn her?

  Absolutely, yes. The one party crasher guaranteed to ruin a heartfelt reunion was a pissed-off cat who’d gotten accustomed to a life of freedom. Well, he could only hope the sardines would pacify her.

  He clicked Georgie’s number just as the light changed, putting the call on speaker, but it rang through to her voicemail.

  Hopefully that wasn’t because she was busy chasing Jezebel—or hitting Finn over the head with a cast-iron frying pan. Sure, he was pissed at the guy, but he didn’t want him injured or dead.

  He pulled up in front of Beau’s house later, parking the car behind Georgie’s—at least she’d gotten home safely—although perhaps it would have been better if she and Adalia had gone out somewhere. He’d only just set the emergency brake when he heard someone bellow in the backyard, followed by a familiar atonal shriek.

  He bolted around back, pausing a second to take in what he was seeing.

  Someone had flicked on the outside light, giving him an all-too-clear view. Finn had climbed up the back porch, stalking Jezebel, and apparently he’d managed to get the open canvas pet carrier over and around her, like putting a glass jar over a spider. Only now it was bucking around as if she truly were a miniature panther, spraying sardine oil everywhere, and Finn didn’t have a great hold on the carrier, or her, because Adalia had just attacked him with some sort of projectile. Was that a crystal?

  He wasn’t sure, but he started running toward the porch. If Jezebel got out of that bag right now, things were unlikely to go well for any of them.

  Georgie was running toward them too, pulling Adalia back.

  “It’s okay, Addy, he’s a… I know him. And the cat.” At the same time, Finn started saying, “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

  But he hadn’t tugged the bag down hard enough, and Jezebel tore free, her green eyes full of vindictive heat. She jumped in the air, claws extended, and hissed. Another jumping hiss drove her closer to Adalia, who cringed back in horror.

  Then, much to River’s surprise, she simply padded past Adalia and Georgie and entered the house, her pace as slow as you please, tracking sardine oil everywhere.

  River made it up to the porch and clapped Finn on the shoulder. He had a goose egg on his head, but he looked like he was probably fine. “Hi, Adalia,” he said. “Like your new cat?”

  Adalia’s eyes went wide, and at first he thought it was a natural reaction to finding out that she was expected to coexist with a creature like Jezebel, but instead she looked back and forth between River and Georgie.

  “Oh,” she said. “I see. You’re the mystery guy. Of course you are.”

  Which meant Georgie hadn’t yet gotten around to telling her, but she’d figured it out nonetheless, from the situation maybe, or the energy between them. He was okay with that. He wanted people to know. Keeping things on the down-low made sense for the moment, but he didn’t want to sneak around with Georgie, and he felt pretty sure she didn’t want that either.

  Finn cleared his throat, and Adalia’s gaze shot to him.

  He was still rubbing at the bump on his head, cringing every time he did, which begged the question of why he kept at it, but there was a strange look on his face, like maybe he was at a loss, something not typical for someone who always seemed to know how to charm people.

  “Sorry I scared you,” Finn said. “And for”—he motioned to the mess of sardine oil and the cloth pet carrier, which now had claw marks scored down the sides. “I know River and Dottie have been looking for her, and I figured I couldn’t risk letting her get away. Not that I helped much, I guess.”

  “You didn’t scare me,” Adalia said. “I’ve lived in New York City for years. I know what to do with an intruder.”

  “Hit them with a crystal?” Finn asked, giving her a wry smile. “That seems more like behavior reserved for people who have a close, personal relationship with River’s aunt.”

  “Hey,” Adalia said, shrugging, “she gave it to me before I left and suggested I keep it on me. She’s a lady who knows what she’s doing when it comes to crystals. And apparently she was right.”

  This didn’t seem to be going anywhere fast, so River figured it was time for him and Finn to make their exit.

  “We should both probably go,” he said. “It’s late. I didn’t mean to drop in on you either”—he met Georgie’s eyes, silently apologizing—“but Finn told me he was on Jezebel’s trail, and I didn’t want either of them to catch you off guard.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not leaving us with that cat,” Adalia said. “I expect protection.” She shifted her head to grin at Georgie. “And so does my sister. Come in. You guys can have some of this wine Georgie bought.”

  Finn made a rude sound, and River and Georgie exchanged a glance. She smiled at him and nodded, telling him it was okay. Maybe she didn’t want to be alone with Jezebel either, which, fair enough. He’d have to tell Aunt Dottie she’d made it home. She’d spent the last week knitting Jezebel a welcome home sweater, but he figured he could convince her to hold off on the inevitable trauma of attempting to put it on her by reminding her, gently, that it was summer.

  “And you are so cleaning up whatever horrible fish thing is now sprayed all over our porch,” Adalia added.

  “Fair enough,” River said, following them in. He wondered if Finn was going to leave, but instead he trailed them into the house, which made River wonder what, exactly, he had to say. It had to be pretty compelling if he was willing to drink wine with a stranger who’d just clocked him over the head.

  When they entered the house, Jezebel was stalking slowly through the downstairs, taking in the new—and very empty—landscape.

  “Oh no,” Georgie said, glancing back at him with something like horror, “what if she’s mad that I changed it?”

  And because Adalia apparently already knew about them anyway, he stepped forward and took her hand, squeezed it, while they watched the cat stalk around.

  Jezebel returned to the kitchen from the living area, pausing in every corner and examining the new appliances, the painted cabinets. Finally, as if passing judgment, she leapt atop the refrigerator and settled into a contented ball.

  “I think she approves,” River said.

  “Why, exactly, are we treating this cat like a deity?” Adalia asked.

  A fair question, and one he thought it best to let Georgie answer. Except Finn hadn’t gotten the memo. He’d been looking around the house, something hard about the set of his lips, but he shifted his gaze to Adalia at that comment. “Because this was Beau’s house, and Jezebel was his cat. Take the house, respect the cat.”

  Hell, when had he last seen Finn with such a chip on his shoulder?

  Adalia just sniffed and took out some wine glasses.

  “Dude,” River said. “Tone it down. We both know Jezebel is a creature of evil. Beau himself called her that. He just happened to like her that way.”

  “Didn’t hesitate to make yourself at home,” Finn said, ignoring River’s comment and shifting his glance to Georgie. Something ugly played in his gaze.

  “What the hell?” River said, tugging Georgie a little closer. “You don’t have any call to talk to her that way. In her house, no less.”

  “Yeah,” Adalia agreed. “I might have to rescind your part of the invitation. More wine for us.”

  Finn sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that suggested something was preying on him. His eyes had circles under them too.

  “Sorry. You’re right. I’m going to head out… It’s just…River, can I talk to you for a minute before
I go? There’s something I need to tell you.” His gaze lowered to River and Georgie’s linked hands. “And I’m starting to think it really can’t wait.”

  “Whatever it is, just say it,” River said. “You can talk freely in front of them.”

  “I really don’t think I should.”

  Adalia had been pouring wine, only three glasses now—she’d dramatically pushed the fourth away—but she stopped, watching them.

  “Well, I’m not leaving right now,” River said, sick of being jerked around. “So if you want to talk to me, this is where it’s happening.”

  “Just remember that you’re the one who made that call,” Finn said, fidgeting a little as he stood there.

  Georgie’s hand suddenly felt clammy within his, and a feeling of foreboding stole over River. It occurred to him that maybe he’d made a mistake, that they shouldn’t talk about this here, in front of Georgie and Adalia, or maybe it would be better not to talk about it at all, but it was too late, Finn was already opening his mouth to speak.

  “Look, man, I’m not happy to be the bearer of bad news, but I’ve been using Henry Manning’s office to look over the Big Catch papers, and someone connected to the office—not naming names here—told me something you deserve to know.”

  A little gasp escaped Georgie like a sudden exhale of air.

  “Turns out Beau was going to leave it all to you—the brewery, even the house—before your girlfriend here showed up in Asheville and convinced him not to. And there’s a clause in the will that gives the brewery back to you if Buchanan doesn’t place in the top five at Brewfest next spring.”

  River felt a pit open in his gut, each of Finn’s words tearing into him like an actual missile. What. The. Actual. Hell. Could that be true? Had she known all of this and kept it from him? Had she thought he’d, what, sabotage the brewery if he knew?

  One look at those beautiful hazel eyes, swimming with tears, told him all he needed to know. He let his hand slip away from hers.

  “You didn’t know that, did you?” Finn asked, his tone softer now, his gaze beseeching. “I didn’t think so.”

  “You should go now,” Adalia said from somewhere behind him. “Unless you want to get clocked with another crystal.”

  Dimly, River registered that Finn did leave. And the sound of footsteps indicated Adalia was making herself scarce too.

  All he could think was that he needed to leave too. The safety he’d found with Georgie, the feeling of home—it had all been a lie. She’d only let him into her world under her rules. The fraternization clause. The noncompete. This. She and her brothers, or at least Jack, had known about the will all along.

  It made it worse that Beau himself had arranged this. That he had played them like they were pieces in some sort of twisted game. Sure, Aunt Dottie had made Beau skew toward eccentric toward the end, but this kind of manipulation was something he’d expect more from the son than the father. This was a side of Beau he hadn’t known well, and one he was ashamed to realize he didn’t much like. It felt wrong to think ill of the dead, when Beau couldn’t do a thing to explain himself.

  “River?”

  He realized it wasn’t the first time she’d said his name, and her voice was shaking, with tears running down her cheeks.

  In a weird way, he still wanted to comfort her, to trace those tears with his fingers and hold her, even though he was the one she’d hurt.

  “I didn’t convince him to do any of that, River,” she was saying. “I didn’t know what he was planning. I wanted to tell you when I found out, I really wanted to tell you, but Jack was adamant. He wouldn’t have agreed to work with you if you knew, and—”

  “When did you find out?” he asked, his voice sounding funny and flat to his own ears. “How long have you known?”

  Her face, which had gone pale, lost even more color. “The day Jack and I signed the papers,” she said. “I’ve known since then.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he said, but the truth drove the knife deeper. “Were you going to tell me?”

  “Yes! Of course! I was trying to figure out a way to make it right. I figured I’d buy out Lee and Adalia after Brewfest, if we win, and make you partner. And if we don’t, you’d have control anyway.”

  “You were going to wait that long?” he asked, anger threading into his voice now. “You were going to wait nearly a year?”

  “No”—she reached for his arm, but he pulled away. “No,” she added in a smaller voice. “I just wanted you to know what I was planning. That I had a way to make it right.”

  There was that phrase again: make it right.

  Was there a way to make it right? If so, he didn’t see it. Here he’d thought he and Georgie were a unit, that they were in this together—the brewery, their relationship—but she’d known about this and kept it from him. She’d deceived him. Beau had used him as a pawn. And Jack clearly didn’t trust him (and now he knew why).

  He was done with the Buchanans. Some things, once broken, could not be pieced together. Glue didn’t hide the cracks or fix them.

  “You think I’m perfect, but I should have told you before…I’m not. Not even a little,” he said, hanging his head. “I can’t do this. I’ll be there Saturday night, so you don’t have to tell anyone yet, but you’re going to have to find someone else for the job.” And though it felt like he was ripping himself apart, he added, “I quit.”

  With that, he turned and walked away. He left through the front door, and Georgie didn’t try to stop him, but Adalia called to him from the side of the porch.

  “Excuse me for saying so, but your friend is kind of a jerk.”

  He didn’t know how to respond to that. He’s not my friend anymore didn’t feel precisely true, and he actually wasn’t pissed at Finn for telling him, or even for the way he’d told him. (River had put him into a corner.) So he just shrugged.

  “I don’t know what happened,” she continued, completely serious for a change, even as she sipped her wine. “But you’re making a mistake. I’ve never seen my sister look at someone the way she looks at you. You belong together. To hell with the rest of our family.”

  Only it wasn’t Jack or Lee who had hurt or wronged him, not really.

  “Good luck, Adalia,” he said. “I’m glad you and Georgie are here for each other.” That he could say and mean. And after he did, he walked away.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Georgie watched River walk out the front door, and it felt like her life had just walked out with him, which was ridiculous. They hadn’t known each other for long enough for her to feel this devastated.

  Yet she was. Her heart might as well have been ripped to shreds by Jezebel’s deadly claws.

  Tears streamed down her face as she wondered how to fix this, but the sound of his car starting made her realize they were over…and they’d barely just begun.

  “Georgie?” Adalia said, walking through the front door with a glass of wine.

  Georgie heard the worry in her sister’s voice, but she didn’t answer, just stared at her sister in shock. Fifteen minutes ago, she’d been consoling Adalia. Now she was the one who was broken.

  “We’re cursed,” she whispered. “Mom. You. Me. We’re cursed in love.”

  Adalia’s lips pressed into a tight line. “I don’t know about that.” She grabbed another glass of wine up off the counter. “Here. You need this.”

  Georgie absently took it, her heart breaking a little more at the sight of the third full glass. “I’ve lost him.”

  “If he’s willing to just walk out like that, then maybe it’s for the best,” Adalia grumbled. Her eyes narrowed on her sister. “You should sit down. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

  Georgie shook her head in dismay, still in shock over what had happened. How quickly it had all gone wrong. “I should have told him.”

  “Sit.” Adalia gave her sister a tiny push into the chair Georgie had sat in the night of the beer tasting, that night she’d first realized
River was different. Special. He’d gone out of his way to put her at ease and make her laugh. She’d never felt so comfortable with another man…and now…

  Tears welled in her eyes. “I have to call him. I have to explain.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Georgie,” Adalia said softly. She’d gone back to the counter for the bottle of wine and carried it over by the neck before sitting in the chair across from Georgie. “At least not yet. He needs to cool down first. In the meantime, how about you tell me what’s going on.” Adalia poured more wine into her glass. “How did this thing between the two of you happen? I’d like to hear the other stories you mentioned too, if you don’t mind.”

  Georgie ran her free hand through her hair, which reminded her she had a perfectly good glass of wine in her other hand. She took a generous gulp. “I started falling in love with him here at Grandpa Beau’s house. At this very table. Over beer.”

  And she realized it was true. She’d heard of people falling in love that quickly, practically at first sight, and thought it was ridiculous. Nonsense. But River…everything about him had broken all of her rules, all of her notions about life. And now she had lost him.

  A sob bubbled up, but she swallowed it back down. She couldn’t let herself fall apart.

  Adalia narrowed her eyes again. “Okay, I’m not sure which topic to focus on, so I’ll pick neither and jump to the giant elephant in the room. What was that guy talking about with Grandpa Beau’s will?”

  “This was supposed to be River’s,” Georgie said with a soft cry, her heart twisting in torment, not just over her loss, but at the knowledge of how betrayed River must feel. By her. By Beau. By his own aunt. “The house. The brewery,” she choked out as she broke down. “He was supposed to inherit it all, but then Grandpa Beau invited me to visit, and after I left, he changed the will.” She looked at her, pleading. “I didn’t know, Addy. I swear.”

  Pity filled Adalia’s eyes, and she reached over and covered Georgie’s hand with her own. “I know that, but apparently River’s asshole friend didn’t.”