All the Luck You Need (Asheville Brewing)

by A. R. Casella

  Kate was turned away from the side windows, her back to the door, talking to her son.

  “Throw a rock at the window, River,” she said. “We need to wake your aunt Dottie.”

  “What if I break it? She won’t want us to stay.”

  He’d said it in a small voice, threaded through with fear, and the thought that he might, even for one moment, worry she’d turn him away broke her heart. The boy was only seven. He needed to know there was one place, at least, where he was wanted and welcomed.

  So she opened the door grandly, dressed in her pink nightgown, and said, “Thank goodness you’re here. I hadn’t dared to hope you’d come to me so soon. Especially since you were in Pennsylvania just a few weeks ago.”

  “It’ll only be a short visit this time,” Kate said. Her face looked too thin, but if Dottie said anything of the sort, Kate would pick a fight. “River’s been wanting to see you, and we were in the area.”

  Dottie gestured for them to come in. “You can stay as long as you like.”

  Kate came in with the small bag at her feet, probably her jewelry fixings, leaving River to drag in a large suitcase and another bag. Dottie reached to hug her, but Kate shrugged it off, heading into the living area. So Dottie swooped River into a hug.

  “Oh, I could just eat you up.”

  He laughed. “You always say that.”

  “Only because it’s true.”

  By the time she set him down, he was smiling though, a real smile. His hair had grown long, tucked behind his ears.

  “Kind of small, isn’t it?” Kate said, glancing around.

  Dottie had half a mind to ask her what business she had calling it small when she didn’t have any home to speak of and dragged River around the country, around the world, to any place that caught her fancy. But she didn’t want to alienate Kate.

  “I suppose so. But there’s a room for you and one for River, so there’s plenty of space for all of us.”

  “You saved a room for me, Aunt Dottie?” he asked, threads of excitement and hope in his voice.

  “Now, don’t go giving him ideas, Dot,” Kate said, her tone brittle. “It’s only your room while you’re here, River. We don’t live anywhere. We’re not the kind of people who stay in one place.”

  Except River was exactly that kind of person. Dottie had always seen that, and she worried about the day when his mother would break him. She worried about a lot of things, actually, from Kate’s refusal to put him in school to her loose attitude toward home schooling, and it was vexing because Dottie was not a worrying person.

  She remembered what she’d said to Beau last night—all we can do is give them our love—and it had never felt more true.

  “I’ll show you around in a minute,” she said. “After I fix you something to eat.”

  And for some reason that reminded her of Beau again, of how he’d commented on her fixation with food.

  She told herself she was only thinking about him because of the signs, but she knew herself well enough to know better.

  “What do you say to waffles? There’s nothing sunnier than a plate of waffles.”

  Chapter Four

  Dottie had planned on spending the day preparing for the party, but Kate and River’s visit proved a distraction. River had been delighted to discover she had decorated his room with him in mind, painting the walls green, his current favorite color, and hanging up art they’d made together in the past, but Kate had given her a flat look as if to say she knew her game and didn’t appreciate it. Her iciness melted a bit when they made necklaces together before lunch, something they’d always enjoyed doing. They talked a little, Dottie telling her about meeting Luke and Leda and Beau, but the temporary peace only lasted until Kate made a rude comment about Doris, who’d been working on her porch in her pajamas early in the morning. That made Dottie cross, and then she returned the favor when she offered Kate some of the new quartz beads she’d bought in town. Kate took it to mean she thought the balance of her necklace was off, which prompted her to remind Dottie that she made a living from her necklaces, thank you very much. As if their malaise was catching (and perhaps it was, energy did have an effect on the body), River bolted out of his room for the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet to throw up. Twice. Then he was sick again after drinking a ginger ale. Kate acted like it was nothing, but she admitted they’d been drinking the water, unfiltered, while out camping, so Dottie brought him to an urgent care clinic to be tested for parasites. He didn’t have a fever and seemed otherwise well, so the doctor thought it unlikely.

  Could it be nerves? Was the poor boy so worked up he couldn’t keep anything down?

  When she came back, Kate was gone. She hadn’t left a note, so there was no way of knowing if this was one of the times she’d gone off for a few hours, or if she’d be away for a week.

  With River sick, Dottie would have canceled the party, but it was already five p.m., and she’d told everyone to come over at seven. Although she could tell Doris the party had been canceled, and she had Luke and Leda’s home phone, she had no way of getting in touch with Leonard. Or Beau, for that matter.

  “It’s okay, Aunt Dottie,” River said. “I’m feeling much better. You should have your party. Mom and I should have called to let you know we were coming. I’m sure she meant to…it’s just that sometimes she forgets.”

  His protectiveness of his mother, whom they both knew perfectly well had never intended to call, was sweet enough to put tears in her eyes.

  “Is your stomach going to revolt if I prepare some food in the kitchen?”

  “No,” he said sweetly. “I’d help you, but we’re not sure if I’m sick.”

  “Will you decorate for me?” she asked. “You can make some signs for the food. Maybe cut out some decorations from construction paper, like the time we made all those snowflakes.” They’d made enough to fill a room, and they’d adorned them all with sparkles, so many they’d been stuck in the floorboards for weeks. Old Beau had crossly exclaimed over each one he found. “We can hang them from the walls, although if it’s nice out, I’ll probably invite everyone outside at some point.”

  “Should we decorate out there, too?” he asked with big eyes.

  “I’ve already put out twinkle lights, my dear,” she said, cupping his cheek. “Everyone enjoys twinkle lights.”

  “I sure do.” His voice was almost wistful. “I like everything about your house, Aunt Dottie.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, River,” she said, feeling a twist in her heart.

  “Me too.”

  They spent the next couple of hours quite pleasantly, the symptoms of River’s illness having faded. She made up a couple of charcuterie boards for the guests—River’s sign for those read “sophistication”—along with a cake that was still cooling when the bell rang for the first time. They’d decided to call that one, a deep chocolate cake with a chocolate mocha frosting they had not yet applied, “decadence.”

  A glance at the clock told her it was seven on the dot.

  She expected to see Doris, who had the least distance to travel, but a glance through the sidelights revealed Beau Buchanan on her doorstep, a six-pack of beer bottles in hand. He had a nervous look, as if he’d found himself plopped down on her doorstep and didn’t quite understand how he’d gotten there.

  She opened the door without hesitation. “You came.”

  “I did.” He glanced around, seeing no one but her seven-year-old nephew, standing a step behind her, and his brow creased with confusion. “Did I get the time wrong?”

  “Oh no. It’s just that most people come a few minutes late.”

  He gave a “hmph” that showed exactly what he thought of that. His attention shifted again to River. “And who is this young man?”

  She stepped back, urging River in front of her, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “This is my dear nephew, the one I was telling you about just yesterday. I was missing him, and someone in the universe must have heard my wish
, because he showed up not ten hours later.”

  “Oh,” Beau said, startled. He walked further into the house, setting down the six-pack on the table closest to the door. “Is your niece here, too?”

  She could almost feel River drooping with the question. “Yes,” she said, “but she had to pop out. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”

  The answer was more for River than for Beau, and somehow Beau seemed to realize it. Glancing down to meet his eyes, he said, “If I’d known you’d be here, River, I would have brought you some soda.”

  “I’m not allowed to drink refined sugar,” River said, making a face. “Mom says it’s the root of all evil.”

  Beau let out a low chuckle. “Well, I guess that makes me the devil.”

  “What’s he mean?” River looked up at her.

  “Beau used to make soda, dear, and now he makes beer.”

  “You can make beer?” he asked with wide eyes. “I thought it was just something people buy at stores.”

  It was one of those naïve remarks children sometimes made that brought home their innocence, that made them all the more precious, but she was well aware some people would laugh at such a statement. Or maybe even mock the child who’d made it. She gazed at Beau with interest, waiting to see how he would react.

  “Every product at a store was made by someone,” he said simply, “and even production processes that use a lot of machines still have men and women running them.”

  River studied him seriously for a moment, then said, “Maybe you are the devil, then. My mother said beer was what made her last boyfriend so mean to her.”

  Beau leaned down, putting himself more on River’s level, although he was too tall to manage it without crouching. “Now, son, beer doesn’t make anyone do anything. A man’s actions are his own to carry. A little bit of beer takes down our inhibitions—it makes us more ourselves. Sometimes that’s a good thing, and sometimes it’s not.”

  His words touched something in Dottie, and she found herself reaching for his arm, almost as if she couldn’t help it. Energy seemed to pass between them, filling her with warm light. “Well said. Now, how would you like to have one of those beers you brought and show us a bit more of yourself? Or Luke said he and Leda would be bringing a punch.”

  Beau, who’d been looking down at her hand with an inscrutable expression, made a face. “Trust me when I say you won’t want to drink that. The hangover stays with you for days.”

  “Oh, hangovers aren’t a concern for me. I’ve got a foolproof cure.”

  The look on his face said he’d like to ask her about it, but just then the doorbell rang.

  “Let me get that,” she said, “it must be one of the other guests.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was relieved she hadn’t dragged him out here by himself, only pretending to have a party, or if he was disappointed.

  When she opened the door, Doris stood on the porch with a plate of brownies. It occurred to Dottie that perhaps she ought to have warned her about Leonard, because she’d worn tapered jeans and an old tie-dyed shirt. Lovely, because she was lovely, but Dottie suspected she would have dressed differently had she known there would be other guests—and very differently had she known Leonard would be there.

  Doris’s gaze landed on Beau and River, who were talking quietly by the archway to the kitchen. Dottie’s heart squeezed a little at the sight, and she remembered that he had his own grandchildren, four of them. This was clearly a man who liked children and considered them worthy of his attention, and there was nothing that could have endeared him to her more.

  “Oh, I didn’t know anyone else would be here,” Doris said.

  Except for River, whom she’d met earlier in the day.

  “I’m sorry, my dear,” Dottie said, taking the brownies. They would have extra chocolate tonight, which suited the gathering. Chocolate was an aphrodisiac, and she very much hoped it would help Leonard and Doris overcome their hesitations with each other. “I did end up inviting a few other people. The gathering has gotten away from me, I’m afraid.”

  A slightly panicked look rose on Doris’s face, but she came in anyway.

  “Is that…” She lifted her eyebrows.

  “It is, yes.” They’d sat on her front porch for a couple of hours the night before, enjoying some of Beau’s beer, and she’d told Doris all about her grumpy employer and the strange compulsion she felt toward him.

  “You work fast,” Doris said with a small smile.

  Dottie had only just finished icing the cake when Luke and Leda arrived, Luke with an enormous container of punch, which smelled pleasantly of elderberry and less pleasantly of licorice. Leda had brought her an oversized painting of a clown balancing on the peak of a mountain, one foot raised in the air.

  “It’s called ‘Permission to Fall,’” she said.

  From the look on River’s face, he was slightly afraid of it, and even more so of Leda. Beau appeared on the verge of laughter, but it was a sweet gift and an accomplished painting, and so Dottie made a fuss over it and put it aside to hang on the living room wall.

  The bell rang again, this time announcing Leonard, who had a large bouquet of tulips, of course. What did come as a surprise was that Kate was with him, her arm hooked around his proprietarily, as if they were an established couple. Kate had changed her clothes since River and Dottie had left for the urgent care clinic. Dressed in a billowing sundress, her long blond hair combed out in waves, she was beautiful in a way that reminded Dottie of her sister. Of the way Delia had been, all long blond hair and sharp, almost feral brown eyes. Leonard’s expression looked slightly uncomfortable, slightly bemused, like he didn’t quite understand how he’d come to be arm in arm with the beautiful stranger. His eyes came to rest on Doris, whose face had leached of color, and he carefully disentangled his arm.

  Dottie wondered if it was too late. Doris had set down the cup of punch she was carrying, and her gaze was hooked on Kate in a way that suggested a prey animal gazing at a predator.

  Oh, this wouldn’t do at all.

  “Aunt Dottie, look who I found!” Kate said, with a tinkling laugh. “You didn’t tell me you had such a handsome friend.”

  It struck Dottie viscerally that she hadn’t yet looked at River or even asked about him, despite knowing he’d been sick this afternoon. Meanwhile, he was staring at her like she’d hung the moon.

  Approaching Leonard and Kate, she decided it was time to set things right. “Leonard, dear, I’m so happy you could come. Who are those flowers for?” She smiled knowingly as she said it.

  “For you, of course,” Kate answered. “Who else would they be for but the hostess?”

  Leonard shot a look at Doris, who had turned her back to him and Kate to talk to Beau and River. But if ever a back could speak…the whole line of her was taut with nerves. Unhappy. No, no, this wouldn’t do at all.

  “Uh, of course,” Leonard said helplessly. Dottie understood his predicament—Doris was ignoring them, and he didn’t wish to be rude. For such a big, strong man, he had an element of shyness to him. Just like Doris. It was part of the reason they’d needed this little push.

  “Well, that was sweet of you, dear. Let’s get them in a vase. Come,” she said, taking him by the arm, “we’ve plenty of those in the kitchen.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Kate volunteered immediately.

  “No,” Dottie insisted. “As you noticed earlier, it’s a small house. It doesn’t leave much room for maneuvering. Why don’t you check on River? He’s feeling much better, the dear boy, but it’s been a long day for him.”

  Kate’s lips pressed into a thin line. It was clear she was angry, but she stayed, which was all that Dottie needed her to do.

  As they passed Beau, he gave her a wry look, as if he knew what she was up to. And perhaps he did. She’d come to realize there were layers to the man, perhaps more than he even realized he possessed. Doris had finally turned slightly, her cheeks pink now, her eyes snagging on Leonard’s button
-down shirt.

  “Hi, Leonard,” she said. “I didn’t know you’d be coming.” Those last words were accompanied by a furious glance at Dottie, who ignored it in favor of giving Leonard a bolstering look. She hoped he realized this was his opportunity to turn things around.

  “Dottie told me you’d be here,” he said, drawing one of the tulips out of the bunch and handing it to her.

  Doris took it, looking slightly flustered, like she didn’t know what to do with it. A gallant gesture, but not practical. Dottie liked that. Too many people fussed about practicality.

  “Oh,” she said. “Um, thank you.”

  Goodness, what was it Beau had said about beer? That it helped make people more themselves? In that case, Doris needed some, and soon.

  Dottie clapped her hands. “Let’s play a game.”

  Chapter Five

  “You mean a drinking game, don’t you?” Kate said primly, covering River’s ears as if he might be corrupted by the very suggestion. Her lips formed a rigid line as her gaze narrowed in on the six-pack of beer. “You know I don’t approve of beer, Aunt Dottie.”

  It was on the tip of Dottie’s tongue to suggest that beer was far less harmful than the substances Kate put into her body. Her niece had a stubborn belief that nothing grown in nature could harm her, as if the fool girl had never heard of nightshade or belladonna. River had been conceived on an Ayahuasca retreat in Chile.

  And the men Kate dated…

  But she couldn’t mention that here, in front of guests, so she simply said, “No, dear. Although I would encourage everyone to enjoy a beverage while we play. Last I checked, there’s plenty of water in the faucets.”

  Kate slid her hands off River’s ears, her face a furious glower. But she shifted her gaze to Leonard, taking in Doris’s awkwardness with the flower, which she’d stuck in her pocket, of all things, having folded the stem in half. Her cheeks were bright pink, and she was looking at the floor instead of the man who was here to woo her.