All the Luck You Need (Asheville Brewing)

by A. R. Casella

  When Dottie went out to the porch, she brought a second cup of coffee with her, setting it out on the table beside hers. Sure enough, it took less than five minutes for Doris to emerge onto her own porch. A quick wave summoned her.

  “Is this for me?” Doris asked in surprise.

  “Yes, I had a feeling you’d join me.”

  Perhaps Doris was getting used to her, because she didn’t comment, she just took a long sip and lowered into the chair next to Dottie.

  From the pink of her friend’s cheeks, the liveliness in her eyes, and the mess of her short hair, Dottie had a feeling things had gone quite well last night, and she allowed herself to feel a rush of pleasure at that. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that helping young people brought her joy.

  When she’d been young, she would have appreciated a guiding hand. Now, she could be that guiding hand for other people.

  They sat quietly for a moment, Dottie giving Doris space to speak, and finally she did, in a great rush of words. “I was so mad at you last night, Dottie. I couldn’t believe you’d set me up like that. If you’d warned me, I could’ve at least worn something nice, something not embarrassing, but then I realized that I might not have come if I’d known, and…” She slowed down, smiling a little. “What I’m trying to say is thank you.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Thank you. I never would have had the courage to approach Leonard, and he admitted that he was shy. Can you imagine a man like him being shy with me?”

  She seemed stunned by the notion. If only Dottie could cure a lack of confidence as easily as she could a hangover.

  “Yes, my dear, I can. You don’t see your own worth.”

  Doris ducked her head a little, which really just proved her point.

  “Leonard’s a smart man, though, and he caught on quickly,” Dottie continued. “I’m pleased things went so well with him. There was a little…upset after you left.”

  She told Doris everything, including her inability to tell Leda she was still disinterested in the notion of ever being with a man.

  “So you are interested in Beau,” Doris said, her glow burning ever brighter. For a woman in love, or lust, there was never anything more exciting than the prospect of someone else finding what she’d found. “I could tell you did. He was so sweet with River last night.”

  “I’m open to the idea. Two days ago, I found the thought of a new partner wretched, but the universe has proven itself to me again and again. I don’t intend to close myself off to any possibilities until I’m given a reason to.”

  Doris nodded, then looked down into her coffee cup. “I’m sorry your niece caused trouble for you.”

  “Well, she certainly tried, but I don’t know that she succeeded,” Dottie said, patting her hand. “My primary objective for the party worked out quite well. As for my secondary objective, I do believe I got a very good look at Beau Buchanan’s character, and I must say, I like what I saw. Poor Luke got the worst of it, but if he and Leda aren’t right for each other, the sooner they part ways, the better.”

  Doris nodded her head slightly. “That’s a good way of looking at it.” Her gaze turned more shrewd. “How’d you know about Leonard? I never told you that he was the one I… Well.”

  Dottie clucked her tongue. “The poor man kept finding every excuse imaginable to talk to you, but you always answered him and sent him on his way. Doris, dear, a man who works in construction has a very good gauge on the weather. He wouldn’t need to ask you about it. Nor do most construction foremen continually ask the neighbors if they’re making too much noise. They assume they are and carry on with it.”

  Doris flushed becomingly. “If anyone’s psychic, it’s you, not Kate.”

  “I have my ways,” Dottie said, gratified by the compliment. “But tell me. What can we do about your other problem? You said you are at a contretemps with your sister.”

  “Oh, that,” Doris said, her smile faltering. She set her coffee mug down on the table. “Yeah, I guess you can say I am. I moved to Asheville to be with her. Alli was in her last year at UNCA, and I’d just started working from home. I’m a few years older. Anyway, I figured it would be a chance for us to get closer. Our parents split up when we were kids, and they both remarried. Neither of them bothers with us too much anymore. So it felt like being together was our only chance to have a real family. It was…I loved it. We both did. But I’d only been here for a year before she moved to Charlotte for a job.”

  “And she wasn’t pleased that you chose to stay.”

  “No. She thought I should come with her because I can work from anywhere. She didn’t understand why I’d want to stay.” Her cheeks flushed again. “She said I didn’t have many friends here anyway, so I was just being stubborn. And maybe I am, because it’s been six months, and she hasn’t visited me and I haven’t visited her.”

  “You both feel abandoned,” Dottie said. And she had a flash of her own sister, and of Kate, who looked so like her. The hurt of losing them would never leave her.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Doris said. She dipped her head again. Goodness, Dottie was going to have to get her a strap for her chin. “I know I should be the one to go to her. It’s only two hours away, and I’m her big sister. But it hurt when she left. And it hurt worse when she didn’t even try to understand why I’d want a place of my own after the way we grew up. It’s just…I love it here. I don’t know why.”

  Dottie’s mind pinged to the crystals, although there was no denying there were plenty of other attractions in Asheville, nestled as it was in the mountains and woods. The ground was rich for roots. It was little wonder Doris, who liked her space, would prefer to stay here than move to a large city.

  “That’s one of life’s mysteries,” Dottie said. “How the same experience can affect two people a different way. Maybe your sister doesn’t need roots or want them. You have to make her understand it’s different for you. Why not invite her to come stay with you so she can meet your new friends?” She inclined her head a little to communicate she was one of them. “Show her that you’ve found a place that’s home for you but she’ll always be important. That’s all she needs to know. And you need to know that you’ll always hold a special place with her too.”

  Doris was still nodding when Dottie pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to her.

  “This is for me?” Doris asked with that same flash of shock.

  “Rhodonite for self-love and rose quartz for all kinds of love.” She met her eyes. “You deserve both, Doris. You just need to believe it.”

  She slid it onto her wrist, her eyes shining as if she were fighting tears. “And this is where I find myself thanking you again. You’ve only been here for a couple of weeks, and I already don’t have the first idea what I’d do without you.”

  Dottie patted her hand. “With any luck, you won’t have to find out. Now, come inside and have some breakfast. I have some happy danishes with your name on them, and I have every intention of convincing you to spend tomorrow afternoon with my dear nephew.”

  Because Kate probably wouldn’t be back. The last thing Dottie wanted to do was cancel on Beau Buchanan, when he’d made himself so intriguing to her, but she would, in an instant, rather than leave River alone. Because if Doris felt abandoned, then so did he. Constantly. And she would never, ever allow him to feel abandoned by her.

  Dottie pulled into the dust factory at three thirty on Monday afternoon.

  The place was much livelier than on her last visit, which was to say there were a few people bustling around behind the front desk. A woman sat there this time, her hair a twist of blond and white, her lipstick a bright smear of red, and her expression one of immediate distaste for Dottie.

  “Are you the new hire?” she asked, casting a doubtful glance at Dottie’s long skirt, a patchwork of bright colors, and her hair, which she’d dyed lilac a week ago on a whim.

  “I am.” Dottie lowered her picnic basket. It was a bit heavy, so perhaps she’d overdone it a little, like Ri
ver and Doris had suggested.

  “And you’re early.” The voice came from behind her, but she recognized it at once—deep and slightly raspy. A pleasing match for his handsome, craggy face.

  She turned to look at him, noticing the way his eyes drank her in like a man starved for color.

  And who could blame him, in this place?

  If he was still upset over the scene on Saturday night, it didn’t show.

  “Am I to understand timeliness is discouraged?” she asked, raising her brows.

  “Never. My father always taught me that to be on time was to be late.” He nodded to the table they’d sat at last time, as bland as it had been before, empty but for a couple of six-packs of beer bottles and tasting cups.

  She reached for her picnic basket, but he beat her to it, picking it up with a little widening of his eyes.

  “You know we have beer here, right? No need to bring the tasting with you.”

  “Just a few little things to help create the right atmosphere. We want to show them a memorable experience.”

  “Somehow I don’t think that will be a problem,” he said, a smile twitching on his lips.

  When they reached the table, she opened the basket, pulling out a red tablecloth with a yellow design.

  “I suppose this has some sort of meaning?” Beau asked, his tone teasing.

  “Of course. Red is a color of passion, and yellow is known to make people hungry. We’ll want both.”

  “Naturally.”

  He started moving the bottles, and she helped by moving the cups, resting them on a couple of the chairs. Then he dug deeper into the basket, pulling out two large containers, one marked “nurture” and the other “inspire.” Two more were tucked below them.

  He lifted his eyebrows, silently questioning her.

  “Well, I hope you didn’t intend to offer them beer without anything to go with it?”

  “It had crossed my mind,” he said with a wry twist of his lips. “You didn’t need to go to all of this trouble, Dottie. You must have spent a whole day in the kitchen, after cleaning up the mess from Saturday.”

  She’d been smoothing the tablecloth over the table, but she looked up and met his eyes.

  “How is Luke, the poor dear? I’ve been wondering. I made him a tonic to help settle his nerves.” She nodded to the picnic basket, not quite empty, and Beau took it out.

  “I’ll give it to him later. He’s still staying with me. It’s like I told you the other day. He’ll be better off without her. But to hear him say it, he’s lost everything.”

  “I must say you were right. I hadn’t thought there could be a couple more mismatched than me and Old Beau, but I daresay they were.”

  “Yes, I caught that,” he said thoughtfully, his eyes darting to her mouth for an instant before lifting again. “Your ex-husband was named Beau.”

  “Fate has an odd sense of humor sometimes, doesn’t it?”

  He was silent for a moment, still studying her with that intent regard she felt in every inch of her body. It made her feel younger, as if she were a teenage girl again, new to love and all the things that came with it. She wasn’t altogether sure she liked it.

  For a moment, she thought he would ask her about what she’d said to Leda. About the man who had caught her interest. But he didn’t, and she found herself remembering the fixed line of his mouth in those final moments on Saturday, the anger she’d sensed in him. “You were vexed with me on Saturday. I sensed it before you and Luke left.”

  “Not with you, no,” he said, shaking his head. But she saw it again, a tightening of his features.

  “You don’t think I dealt with Kate appropriately.”

  “No, I’ll admit I don’t. Because of her, Luke very nearly lost part of his skull. Leda’s fault, assuredly, but she doesn’t need any encouragement. And then Kate walked out and left without hardly a word to anyone, let alone her boy. Has she come back?”

  “No,” Dottie admitted, and then, because she didn’t want him to think the worst of her, however much it angered her that she should care, she added, “Doris is spending the afternoon with River.”

  “He’s a good kid,” Beau said, lifting the bridge of his glasses. “About the same age as my youngest granddaughter.” A wry twist of his lips reminded her of his situation with his son and his grandchildren, which fanned a fire within her. He of all people should understand her plight. “Is he in school?”

  Dottie shook her head as she arranged the containers on the tablecloth, in the order in which they’d be served. “Homeschooled, though as I’m sure you can guess, not much of that goes on.” Kate had all the books, at least. Dottie knew because she gave them to her. And whenever River was with her, she made a point of going through his lessons with him. Doris, the dear, had volunteered to help with his grammar this afternoon by allowing him to go through her latest technical manual with her.

  She and Beau were working together as they spoke, Beau setting out the tasting glasses and the two six-packs before reaching for the plates in the basket, his eyebrows only winging up slightly at the sight of the big-breasted fertility goddesses painted on them. He kept shooting glances at her, the words he wanted to express sitting on the edge of his tongue.

  “You’re plainspoken about everything else,” she said finally, pausing what she was doing to meet his eyes. “I wish you’d come out and say what you mean.”

  “I’m wondering, Dottie Hendrickson, why a woman such as yourself hasn’t done anything to stop her. That boy should be in school. I imagine child services would have a thing or two to say about how he’s being raised. Then again, I suppose it’s none of my business.”

  Part of Dottie wondered if she’d like it to be his business, but the anger hadn’t gone away entirely, her pique at wanting to please him, her fury at Kate.

  “You’re right. It isn’t. Say I called them, and say they took him away from her. Do you think they’d give him to me? I may be blood, but I’m the boy’s great-aunt, not his grandmother. As likely as not, they’d send him somewhere else. And if I did something like that, she’d make sure I never saw him again.” She felt a jab of pain in her hand and looked down to see she’d stabbed her nails into her palm. “I won’t do it, Beau. Her behavior is unacceptable, bless her heart, but I have no choice but to live with it. Because I won’t live without him.”

  His eyes had narrowed on her like she was the last woman on earth, and he reached out to touch her arm, his touch searing her in a way she’d never expected to feel again. “Dottie, I…”

  But someone cleared a throat, and they looked over to see the blond woman with the red mouth. Her aura had a green tinge of jealousy, which quite explained her reaction to Dottie. “They’re here, Beau.”

  Indeed, they were. Two gentlemen dressed in button-down long-sleeved shirts—good gracious, in this heat? At least they’d be grateful for the beer—and khaki pants approached them, taking in the lovely setup.

  Only it wasn’t complete. She reached into the basket one last time, giving Beau a somewhat defiant look as she set a small crystal centerpiece on the table.

  But his mouth only twitched with that look of humor.

  “Gentlemen,” he said as the men approached.

  They exchanged introductions, and then Dottie nodded to the table. “Please take a seat. Your journey through the senses begins.”

  Perhaps it was her imagination, but she felt a fleeting touch on her back before Beau stepped forward to open the first of the beers.

  Oh, this was going to be fun.

  Chapter Nine

  “Well, I must say,” said Brock, the taller of the two gentlemen at the tasting, and the one who’d cringed the most upon trying the red petits-fours in the “balance” container, paired with the wheat beer. “This is the most…memorable tasting I’ve ever been to, Beau. But your new beers are remarkable. I think even women might like the Serenity Ale.”

  Even women? Goodness. The man was a regular Philistine.

  But
his partner, Drew, an older man with lovely blue eyes and wire-rimmed glasses, was looking at her with open admiration.

  “If only we could sell your petits-fours, too, Miss Dottie. The tastes were perfectly paired.”

  “Well,” Brock said, his mouth in an ungenerous line, “with some exceptions, I suppose that’s true.” He glanced at Dottie, then added, “Perhaps we can iron out the details of the sale in your office, Beau, where we’ll have some privacy.”

  Oh, she knew this kind of man. He was the sort who’d tell a woman she needed her husband to be present to buy a car. Or to arrange for the repair of a dishwasher. Or to do anything of note. But it wasn’t her brewery, and her role was to help Beau make sales, not imperil them. So she smiled at him and sent a wave of good energy his way. “Of course, gentlemen.”

  “I’ll have my assistant show you to my office,” Beau said, a little flicker of annoyance showing in his eyes, although if it was at her tone or Brock’s attitude, she didn’t know.

  The blond woman, Mara, approached with a fixed smile and led Brock and Drew off, but not before Drew asked Dottie who’d made the tablecloth. Upon learning she had, he glowed even brighter, dear man, and asked for her phone number to contact her about decorations for their bar. She gave it to him, promising that she had many other lovely things that could help set the scene and create a mood.

  Then Mara was hustling them off.

  She’d thought Beau might say a word or two to her and then leave, but he started cleaning up the mess on the table, packing her things back into the basket, and she fell in beside him helping.

  “That went well,” he said. “Thank you, Dottie.” He smiled at her, and although he hadn’t apologized for what he’d said earlier, for the note of judgment in his voice when he’d asked about River’s schooling, she sensed this was his apology. That wouldn’t do.

  “You’re sorry for what you said earlier,” she prompted. “I can hear it in your voice.”

  He gave a rueful little shake of his head, although it wasn’t a no. “I suppose I am. Apologies don’t come easily to me. But I am sorry. I wasn’t thinking things through from your perspective. My son has accused me of that on more than one occasion, and he’s not altogether wrong.” He paused, eyeing her with speculation. “I’m fairly certain Drew is more interested in you than in your tablecloths. I wouldn’t be surprised if he contacted you with an offer of marriage.”