“Har-de-har-har.” He motioned to the space around them. “Why here, Maisie? Why not at your office or my apartment?”
An almost wistful look passed over her face. “It just seemed right,” she said. “It was always a safe place for us, wasn’t it? I hoped it would be one for you now.”
He hugged her again, holding on tight, bolstering himself for what was to come, and as soon as she pulled away, she said, “And no matter what happens, that’s an absolute no about Hops. In fact, I already filled out the adoption paperwork for you.”
“You are a controlling douchebag,” he teased, stepping back as she fake-swatted him. “Are you coming tonight?”
“No,” she said simply. “I don’t think so. But you’re going to tell me everything.”
Back in his car, he checked the rest of his texts. Finn was worried and apologetic. Apparently Georgie’s reaction had convinced him that she hadn’t deviously plotted the whole thing, but he still thought it was a bad idea for River to get involved with his boss. He couldn’t help but smile a little at that—even Finn’s apology texts were paragraphs.
Noted, he responded. After all of this is over, let’s get a beer or make one.
Aunt Dottie’s messages were frantic enough that he thought it best to call her.
She answered on the first ring, and he could hear the Buchanan tasting room in the background. He felt an odd pang at that.
“River, where are you?” Aunt Dottie said, and the guilt he’d felt toward Georgie doubled. Tripled. She’d worried he would leave. That he would just drive off the way her niece always had.
“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m at Maisie’s. She just talked some sense into me.”
A relieved gust of air made him pull the phone away from his ear. “Oh, thank heavens. Are you coming over to talk to Georgie? She’s had the door of her office shut all day, but I heard her crying in there, poor dear.”
And if that didn’t make him feel terrible…
“Not yet,” he said, “I have to talk to Jack first. I want to be with Georgie, but I don’t like all this closed-doors business. All of these lies and misunderstandings. I know she doesn’t either. I need to clear the air.”
“Speaking of misunderstandings,” she said, “I hope you don’t think Beau did this to spite you, or because he didn’t believe in you. When you told him you were happy at Big Catch, he didn’t want to get in the way of that. The way he structured the will—he did it because he wanted to make sure his grandkids took it seriously. Those Buchanans have competition running in their blood, he said, and he figured it would fire them up. I also think he wanted them to get to know you. It was his way of ensuring it. I wonder now if it was a mistake.”
“Let’s hope not, Aunt Dottie. I’m going to do everything I can to make it right.”
When he got home, he hugged Hops to his chest.
“I guess you’re sticking with me, buddy,” he said, and the little dog licked him. And then he picked up the apartment, so as not to look like an insane person, and video-called Jack.
Jack picked up on the first ring.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“He’s not coming,” Georgie said, scanning the room for the hundredth time.
Adalia put her hand on Georgie’s arm and squeezed. “I know this is easier said than done, but try to enjoy the party. All of these people are here to celebrate Grandpa Beau and you, Georgie. They’re excited you’re rebuilding his legacy.”
“Not anymore,” Georgie said, fighting the urge to cry.
A twenty-something man walked up and extended his hand, one of about a hundred in the last hour, or so it seemed, whose faces had all blended together. “I hear you’re Georgie Buchanan.”
“That’s right,” she said, forcing a smile as she shook his hand. “And this is my sister Adalia.”
Adalia took his hand next. “Call me Addy.”
The man’s smile grew bigger. “Call me Ned. Are you part of the family business too?”
“Sure am,” she said with a flirty look. “The Buchanan sisters are taking the Asheville brewing world by storm.”
He laughed.
“Along with our brothers,” Georgie added.
The man kept his gaze on Adalia, making it clear he didn’t give a hoot about their brothers. Georgie felt a little prick of protectiveness, but at the same time, she felt lucky her sister was around to butter people up. She currently felt about as charming as a cardboard box.
“They’re more like silent partners,” Addy said with a wink.
Adalia had come into work with Georgie that morning, and Dottie had given her the grand tour (Dottie’s words). She’d come back to Georgie’s office practically glowing with positivity—this was something Georgie ascribed to the Dottie Effect, a little-studied phenomenon about what happened when people drank Dottie’s Kool-Aid.
“She’s right about one thing,” Adalia had said. “It has good vibes. I feel weirdly at home here.”
Georgie had smiled at her, but with tears in her eyes. “I felt that way too.”
“We’ll talk sense into him, Georgie. Dottie says he just needs a little bit of time.”
Georgie hoped so, but she also knew how badly she’d messed up. There was a chance River might forgive her, but he likely wouldn’t forget. And even if he agreed to come back to work, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle the pain of seeing him every day, knowing how much he despised what she’d done to him. Knowing what could have been if she’d only been stronger.
“I want to be part of this, Georgie,” Adalia had said earnestly. “I want to help reopen Buchanan Brewery.”
That had choked Georgie up—how much would she have loved to hear that two weeks ago?—and she’d fought tears to reply with a straight face and clear voice. “I don’t know if there will be a Buchanan Brewery.”
“Dottie said not to worry,” Adalia had said, waving that off. “She thinks fate has a way of working things out.”
Maybe so, but who was to say fate was on her side? She was beginning to doubt she had any luck at all.
“Is River around?” Ned asked, his gaze darting around the packed tasting room. “I’d love to offer him my congratulations on landing at Buchanan. You know, we always thought he’d inherit the place.”
And didn’t that just twist the knife.
Addy gave him a sweet smile. “River’s currently detained, but I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.”
“Georgie,” Dottie called out as she pushed her way through the crowd toward her. “One of the TV crews is here.”
“Great,” Georgie said. “Tell them to make themselves at home and get whatever footage they need.”
Dottie’s face turned serious. “They want to interview you first.” Then she added in a lowered voice, “And River.”
Another twist of the knife. River had said he’d be at the party, but no one had seen or heard from him all day. What if he’d decided he might as well leave Asheville now since he’d have to start over eventually anyway?
Dottie squeezed her arm. “He’ll show up, dear.”
Georgie pushed her way through the crowd, pleased at the turnout, despite everything. It seemed like most of Asheville had shown up. She’d put out a lot of press releases and had personally invited news channels, entertainment websites, and magazines to be a part of Bury the Brewery, and quite a few had shown up. River had purposely held back the last of the reserve beer to make sure they were prepared for the party, but now she wasn’t sure how far it would stretch. Not only was the tasting room full, but there was a long line weaving outside the building.
Turned out everyone in Asheville wanted to be a part of the end of Beau Buchanan’s era. Everyone except for River.
Not that she blamed him.
The interview went off without a hitch, and if she looked less than miserable on camera, it was only thanks to Adalia, who’d applied cold compresses to her eyes to help take down the swelling from crying all day. A couple of days ago, River had gen
tly suggested she wear something other than a business suit, which would mark her as an outsider, and she was grateful she’d taken his recommendation to heart. The light blue sundress she’d worn made her feel like less of a sore thumb. Her hair was loose and full of waves thanks to the French braids Adalia had put in it the night before. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that she’d dressed with River in mind, but as they counted down the last pulls, anticipating the last of the tap, he still hadn’t arrived.
Which meant he wouldn’t.
Dottie was behind the main bar, and when she held up a glass, announcing that it was the last of the keg, her voice broke as she said, “And that’s the end of an era.”
The room hushed and a lump filled Georgie’s throat, the first all day that wasn’t directly River-related.
“To Beau,” someone called out, holding up a glass, and the chorus went round the room. “To Beau.”
Georgie felt closer to Beau this evening than she ever had. So many people had come over to tell the Buchanan sisters stories about their grandfather. Many of those stories had featured Dottie, and several had also involved River. Those were the ones she cherished most, but they also tugged at her heart, reminding her of the pain she’d caused him, leading her to a conclusion her father would consider ridiculous. Infantile. Female.
Buchanan Brewery belonged to River more than it belonged to Georgie and her siblings, and she was going to find a way to give it all to him, no strings attached. Consequences be damned.
To hell with what her family thought. Georgie was done with trying to make everyone else happy. She should have defaulted the brewery to River as soon as she found out he was supposed to have originally inherited it. It would have been the right thing to do.
It was too late to change what she’d done, but it wasn’t too late to make things right.
Of course, the brewery legally belonged to her siblings too, but she was sure none of them would want to step forward to run it. If she forfeited her share, they’d likely default too since there would be no one to manage the business. Yeah, Jack claimed he wanted to be a part of it, but he still refused to come back, he couldn’t manage it remotely, and she couldn’t imagine him willingly sharing the leadership with River after everything that had gone down. If he forced the issue, Georgie could insist he pay her back the hundreds of thousands of dollars she’d invested within thirty days. It was an asshole move, but River deserved it more than Jack. She’d find another way to form a bond with her half-brother. If he ever forgave her.
As for the money? It was just money. She’d put this down as a lesson well learned.
After the last drink was served, the energy in the room seemed to evaporate, as if they really were burying the brewery. The atmosphere turned melancholy, and the remaining guests soon left, hugging Dottie and the other staff, wishing Georgie and Adalia well with the reopening come fall. And soon it was just the sisters and the staff…and no River.
A couple of the tasting workers came out of a back room, passing around the last of the reserve in small Dixie cups—Beau Brown, which River and Georgie had thought would be fitting. The plan had been for Georgie to address the staff, thanking them for their support and hard work, for embracing the future with her, but she couldn’t do it, because it was a lie.
She would have no part in Buchanan Brewery’s future, and that broke her more than she’d expected. Turned out she’d fallen in love with her grandfather’s legacy too.
Dottie seemed to sense that Georgie was too distraught to follow through as planned, so she took charge, which felt more fitting anyway.
“Beau would have loved this evening,” Dottie said with a bright smile but with tears in her eyes. “He would have loved the energy. He would have loved the stories.” A chuckle ran through the room. “He would have loved the community.” Dottie turned and held Georgie’s gaze. “And he would have loved the sense of family. He always said the employees at Buchanan Brewery were family, and Georgie Buchanan is keeping that same philosophy alive and well. She’s embracing Buchanan’s past and bringing it into the future, all while keeping the employees in the fold with her generosity and enthusiasm. Buchanan Brewery needs Georgie Buchanan, and she will lead us into the future.” She lifted her Dixie cup into the air. “To Georgie.”
The employees enthusiastically shouted, “To Georgie!”
It was too much.
Georgie fought to keep from breaking down, while Adalia wrapped her arm around her sister’s back and whispered in her ear, “Don’t despair. True love always wins, Georgie.”
Not always. A fact Georgie had on some level known since she was a little girl, even if she hadn’t understood her parents’ relationship yet.
Adalia excused herself to help the tasting room staff clean up, but Dottie rushed over and pulled Georgie into a tight embrace before leaning back and staring into her face. “I know what you’re planning to do, but it’s not what Beau wanted. He knew what he was doing, Georgie. Trust in that. Buchanan Brewery really does need you.”
How could Dottie know what she was planning? She couldn’t, which meant the older woman probably had some other crazy idea in her head. “Thanks, Dottie, but I intend to set things right.”
Dottie gave her a long look. “Don’t make any decisions yet. Just come to the after-party and then sleep on it, okay?”
Georgie shook her head. “I think I should just go home, Dottie. Besides, it’s for the employees, people who knew Beau, and I’m just the estranged granddaughter who came in and stole everything.”
Tears swam in Dottie’s eyes. “You are so much more than that, Georgie, so much more. Just give him a bit of time, okay? Because not only are you exactly what Buchanan Brewery needs, you’re what my nephew needs too.”
Georgie shook her head more vehemently. “No. He needs someone he can trust. Someone who won’t lie to him and take advantage of him. He needs someone who won’t let him down.”
“Oh, Georgie,” Dottie said, cupping Georgie’s cheek. “That person doesn’t exist. No matter how much we try, we will always let down the people we love. It’s human nature. But it’s how you come back from it that matters.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Just give him more time.” She pressed something into Georgie’s hand and then walked away, calling over her shoulder, “And you will come to the after-party. Not a single one of us will take no for an answer.”
Georgie opened her hand to see a two-inch, smooth, bright blue, striated stone with a small slip of paper. Dottie had written:
Blue Lace Agate—good for communication and purification. Just rub your fingers over the stone. All will work out in the end, Georgie. Have faith.
Love, Dottie
Georgie only hoped Dottie was psychic too.
With a sigh, she helped the staff shut everything down. Turned out she was going to the party after all.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
All of that, and he wasn’t going to make it.
River had spent an uncommonly long time getting ready for the closing party, especially since he’d ended up choosing exactly the sort of outfit he always wore, a short-sleeved button-down and khakis, Beau’s watch tucked into the pocket of the pants. Georgie had encouraged him to be himself, and he couldn’t be himself and also wear a suit. But he’d walked out of the room to find Hops with melted chocolate all over his fur. For a moment, he’d thought the dog had had a massive accident that he’d maybe rolled in, but then he’d found the chocolate wrapper by the couch. Turned out his aunt had hidden a dark chocolate bar for him at Easter—Easter—without telling him. Which might have been a nice surprise if he’d found it in April.
He’d panicked and immediately called Maisie, who’d walked him through what to do, which had involved giving Hops hydrogen peroxide to throw up. He’d needed to repeat it a couple of times before Hops actually vomited out the chocolate, and by then both of them were a mess, and slightly hysterical too. He’d changed his clothes and dropped Hops off with Maisie, who was at the shel
ter, not wanting to leave him alone after what had surely been a traumatizing experience. (Or at least it had been traumatizing for River.)
As a nice bonus, one of Hops’s sisters had been back at the shelter. She hadn’t worked out with her foster family owing to some antagonism from a cat who sounded a bit like Jezebel, so she was temporarily staying with Maisie. But he hadn’t stuck around to watch the big reunion. One glance at Beau’s watch told him all he needed to know—he wasn’t going to make it. Or if he did, it would be too late for him to pull Georgie aside so they could talk privately.
Aunt Dottie had texted and called him half a dozen times. (So had Adalia, whom he’d talked to after his call with Jack.) Georgie hadn’t said a thing, although no doubt she had to be assuming the worst. He had a pit in his stomach at the thought of what she must be thinking, and he also felt the ache of having missed an event he’d helped plan. The end of an era.
He texted his aunt: I had a situation with Hops. Please, please, please make sure she goes to the after-party.
She responded with a golden ring icon, which made him cringe a little.
We’ll see. Most couples don’t get married after two weeks. Some don’t even get married after twenty years. ;-)
Not that he’d wait twenty years, or even one, if Georgie forgave him. But he wasn’t about to encourage Aunt Dottie.
He sent a quick text to Adalia too, repeating the story about Hops and the request that she encourage Georgie to show.
Roger, she responded. But, oh boy, you better turn on the charm. You owe me one.
As if his stomach weren’t already in knots…
His call with Jack had been awkward, the way video calls usually are when they’re with near-strangers. Especially near-strangers who didn’t like you. But a phone call wouldn’t have cut it, because he’d needed Jack to see how much he meant it when he said, “I’m in love with your sister.”
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