All the Luck You Need (Asheville Brewing)

by A. R. Casella

  “I hope it brings your heart joy,” Dottie said, and meant it. “But why not leave River here for a few weeks, until you move on to your next stop? I’d love to explore more of Asheville with him.”

  “Like you were doing tonight?” Kate asked, giving her a shrewd look as she lowered a box of supplies onto her bag. It looked to be a box of Dottie’s supplies, but she neither minded nor felt an urgent need to call her on it. “River hardly needs babysitters, you know, especially such drab ones.”

  Dottie had already suspected he was often left alone, but the confirmation hurt her heart. Would he be better off in a foster home, even if they didn’t allow him to come to her?

  “I like Doris and Leonard,” River insisted. “He let me sit in his excavator.”

  “I had great plans for that excavator,” Kate said with a wicked grin. “Too bad he’s a man of limited imagination.”

  “I had plans for the evening, yes,” Dottie said, ignoring the jab. “And I felt better leaving River with trusted friends. But he would be safe here, Ka—Esmerelda. You know he’s always safe here. Safe and loved.”

  Kate held her gaze for several moments, her expression inscrutable, then glanced back at River. “Go to your bedroom for a minute. I need a word with your aunt.”

  She’d called it his bedroom, which felt like a victory, but Dottie’s nerves were as prickly as a hedgehog woken from a nap.

  What did Kate want now?

  After River’s door closed behind him, her niece gave her an intent look. “I met someone who says she can see the future.”

  “Kate, I’ve had just about enough of your games. Luke could have been gravely injured the other night. I know you think it’s funny to twist other people into knots, but you cause real damage sometimes.” She couldn’t really say anything about the relationship Kate had broken up, because truly, if they’d broken up more than twenty times, it would probably only take a jar of peanut butter with a difficult-to-remove top to come between them. Even so…

  “I think this woman really has the sight, Aunt Dottie. She was in the salt cave at the same time as me, and afterward she sought me out.”

  It was one of the first times Kate had referred to her as “aunt” in years, which made Dottie pay attention. She did believe in the sight, after all, even if Kate had tricked her before.

  Her mouth twisted a little. “She lives above a crystal shop, so you’ll probably meet her soon enough.”

  Dottie had an image of those crystals falling on her head. Was it that shop? But she didn’t ask, just listened.

  “She knew I had a little boy,” Kate said, “and yeah, maybe she saw us together in town before we met up, but I don’t know why she’d lie. I didn’t give her any money, I just offered her some necklaces.”

  “What else did she say?” Dottie said, drawn in in spite of herself.

  Kate lifted a hand to her collarbone, contemplative. “She told me that my child belongs here. That I’m going to leave him here, for good, only the time isn’t right yet. She said someone who loves him dearly will take care of him as her own.”

  Dottie felt like the floor had dropped out from under her. She couldn’t tell if Kate had really met someone who’d told her those things, or if this was just her way of telling Dottie something she couldn’t bring herself to express directly. With Kate, there was no way of knowing. Either way, it was like Kate had pulled Dottie’s biggest wish, her heart’s deepest yearning, right out of her chest and put words to it.

  Except if Dottie had had her choice, Kate would have taken part in that imagined future too. She would be laughing and smiling and making jewelry. And sending River off to school or to play with his friends.

  But if she couldn’t get that, she’d take what she could get.

  “I believe her, Dottie,” Kate said. “It felt right when she said it.”

  “I don’t know what to say, other than you and River are always welcome here.” Tears rose to her eyes, hot and demanding. “And if you ever did want to leave him with me, I would love to have him. It would…make me very happy and fulfilled. You need to understand that you two are everything to me.”

  “You mean he is everything to you,” Kate said, with a tinge of bitterness.

  “No, I said what I meant. Now, if you’re not going to change your mind about leaving him here for now, let me help you pack those things into the car. I hope you’ll take some food too. There’s plenty in the fridge.”

  “That’s my aunt, always feeding people.” But the bitterness had edged out of her voice, and she sounded almost fond. “Thanks, Dottie. We’ll be back.” Her gaze turned serious again. “I know he needs you.”

  “Just like I need him. And you.”

  They packed up the car together, Dottie pressing plenty of extra food on Kate and dozens of kisses on River, whose eyes filled with tears as he was loaded into the car.

  “I’ll see you before you know it,” Dottie said, squatting beside him even though she expected she’d pay for it later in sore muscles. “You’re going to have adventures with your mother at the beach, and you can tell me all about them. I’d like you to find me the perfect seashell. I’ll make you a mixed media painting with it. And in the meantime, I’m going to hang your painting over the fireplace.”

  “I have yours,” River said, a single tear tracking down his cheek. “I’m going to bring it with me everywhere I go.”

  “Thank you, dear.” She traced the tear and cupped his cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. And please tell Beau I said goodbye. I like him.”

  “I do too,” Dottie admitted, feeling Kate’s speculative gaze on her.

  “I already said goodbye to Doris and Leonard, but you can tell them goodbye from me again. They’re really nice.”

  “Indeed they are.”

  “It’s time,” Kate said, her tone not unkind. “Until next time.”

  Dottie pulled her into a hug, and although she was stiff at first, she relaxed into it. “Remember what I said, Aunt Dottie,” she whispered into her ear.

  “I couldn’t begin to forget it,” Dottie said, pulling away and lifting a hand to her cheek. “You travel safely, my dear.”

  And then Kate got into the car, and they pulled away, and it felt like a piece of Dottie, the most precious piece, was leaving with them.

  It didn’t surprise her when Doris’s door opened moments later, and Doris came out, her face ashen and her eyes worried. Leonard came out behind her but lingered on the porch, as if recognizing that they might need time alone. And then, before Dottie realized what was happening, Doris was hugging her and leading her to the porch, and she was crying her heart out into the dear girl’s shirt.

  Chapter Twelve

  Doris had stayed with her for an hour, soothing her, being a friend, and Leonard had proven himself a true gentleman. He’d brought drinks over for them before kissing Doris’s brow and heading home. Dottie had told her about Beau, which had made Doris glow with happiness—oh, I could tell he was a good one—and about Kate’s strange words and the feelings of hope and disquiet they’d awoken within her.

  Given she was of a more literal mind, Doris believed Kate was using the fortune teller story as a filter for something she’d decided on her own. Dottie didn’t know what to believe. She only knew that she wanted River to stay. She dearly hoped his roots would twine with hers, even if it meant that Kate would continue on as a wanderer. Both of them should stay, but she had to admit to herself she couldn’t imagine it. There was an untamable wildness within Kate, and it refused to allow her the peace of having a true home.

  She’d spent the next day painting the house. Purple, she’d decided, because it was a magical color, a color of wisdom. Leonard had seen what she was doing and sent over two of his men with a ladder, the dear soul, and they’d gotten it done in a single day. Now, it was Tuesday evening, hours after the brewery closed at five p.m., and she still hadn’t heard from Beau.

  Could he have changed his mind?


  But no, that didn’t seem possible. The connection they’d formed was deeper than a mere romantic entanglement, it was a communion of two souls.

  So she called him rather than waiting for him to call her. Because she was a grown woman, and she knew what she wanted. She didn’t need to wait for a man to take action.

  Only he didn’t answer his phone, and neither did Luke.

  Worry twined through Dottie, something she didn’t much like, but there was little she could do. She hadn’t been to Beau’s house yet, so she couldn’t drop in on him. All she had was his number.

  She tried again two more times as the night wore on, and still no one answered.

  So she meditated with her favorite crystal, the one that had nearly been used against Luke’s skull, and then painted an abstract piece to capture her confusing swirl of feelings. The joy of her evening with Beau, the fear she had for Kate, the hope she had for River, and the worry festering in her heart about Beau.

  She didn’t hear from him the next day either, so she did what she’d said she would do and prepared for the tasting, even though she felt aggrieved by his behavior.

  She arrived at the brewery at three forty-six, sending her own message by being ever so slightly late.

  The woman at the front, Mara, had a worried look that turned slightly feral at the sight of her.

  “Where is Beau?” she asked, as if Dottie might be hiding him under her voluminous skirt.

  “He’s not here?”

  “Would I have asked you if he were?”

  “I don’t know where he could be,” she answered honestly, worry and fear overtaking her pique. “Has someone gone by his house?”

  Mara patted her hair, which was swept up without a single strand out of place. “We sent one of the employees by earlier, but he wasn’t home. His friend Luke was there, and he said he hasn’t seen Beau since last night. He was upset about something, but Luke didn’t know what, then he went out and didn’t come back. Or at least Luke doesn’t think he came back. He said he’s a hard sleeper.” She wrinkled his nose in distaste. “That man seriously needs a shower.”

  “Probably,” Dottie agreed, her heart hammering now. She may not have known Beau for long, but he didn’t seem like the sort to walk out on his life, or his problems. Had something happened? An accident maybe? “Did anyone call around to the local hospitals?”

  Mara’s face went ashen. “Do you think that’s necessary?”

  “The man may have been missing all night and half the day. Yes, I think it’s necessary.” Perhaps it was a bit blunt to say so, but Dottie’s own worry was bleeding out. “How about the police? Could he have been arrested?”

  “Arrested,” Mara said as if offended. “Why on earth? He’s not some homeless hooligan. He’s a respectable man.”

  Goodness.

  “If he was wandering around at night, upset, who knows what might have happened. Did you cancel the tasting?”

  Mara looked more upset about this line of questioning than the other, as if she feared the breach in etiquette might get her fired. “No,” she said with a gasp. “They’ll be here any minute. Beau said they were important clients.”

  “Then I’ll handle it,” Dottie said, even as her heart continued to hammer in her chest. And yet…maybe it was foolish of her, her ex-husband certainly would have thought so, but she didn’t believe any serious physical harm had come to Beau. She thought she’d know it if something like that had happened. They hadn’t known each other long, but their souls had touched each other, and that kind of connection came with a sort of knowledge. If something happened to him, she thought she would know. So the best thing she could do was light a fire under Mara and his employees and pull off this tasting to land him a damn good sale. “Have someone bring me the beers for the tasting. I’ll get everything ready.”

  She walked toward the table, attempting to convey a confidence she no longer felt, and started the setup. But every step of the way she missed Beau’s presence. The way he’d smoothed the tablecloth with her and set out the things she’d brought, helping her even though she’d been upset with him.

  One of the Buchanan employees came up with the glasses and beers she’d need, and she accepted them with gratitude.

  Before she was truly ready, two gentlemen—would they always be gentlemen?—approached the table, led over by Mara. They introduced themselves—Edward for one and Edgar for the other, although they both jovially offered to be called Ed, and Dottie bid them to take their seats.

  “Your journey into your emotions begins now.”

  They exchanged a look of surprise, but at least they didn’t seem as dry as Brock, the poor fellow. They seemed game for the voyage she’d set out for them.

  They started with Beau Brown, paired with peanut butter blooms, then worked their way to her favorite, the Serenity Ale.

  “Don’t we all like to feast on joy for dessert?” she asked, serving them the strawberry rhubarb tartlets she’d made the previous night, when she couldn’t sleep.

  “A remarkable presentation,” said one of the Eds as he finished his last bite of tart, draining it down with a mouthful of Serenity. “I’m sorry Beau wasn’t able to make it, but I very much look forward to talking numbers to him when he returns.”

  “Oh, you can do that with me,” Dottie said flippantly, waving a hand. “I’m his representative in all things.”

  They exchanged a look, one Ed nodding to the other—goodness, she’d lost track of which was which in her emotional storm—before turning toward her. “Then let’s talk. We’d definitely like the Beau Brown and the Serenity.”

  “What are you willing to offer us?”

  And so the dance began. If they’d thought Dottie would be soft because she was a woman, they soon discovered that they were wrong. She’d been selling her own art for years, at shows and out of her back yard, much to Old Beau’s umbrage, and she’d learned plenty from it. She’d knew not to take someone’s first offer.

  “You play a tough game,” one of the Eds said to her at the end, after they’d landed upon a mutually agreeable figure, “but I’m excited to be in business with you.”

  “As are we.” She offered them the remaining tarts, which one of the Eds eagerly accepted, then walked them to the front.

  Mara had the look of someone who knew something and was eager to tell it, but Dottie forced herself to focus on her guests. Or rather Beau’s.

  “How long have you been working here, if you don’t mind me asking?” one of the Eds asked as she opened the door for them.

  “This will be my third day,” she said. “Good evening, gentlemen.” And then she shut the door on their shocked faces.

  She turned at once to Mara.

  “You made a sale?” Mara asked in disbelief. “Do you have the authority to do that?”

  Dottie shrugged impatiently. “It hardly matters, does it? What do you know?”

  Mara glanced around as if trying to discern if anyone was watching. Everyone was, while trying to look like they weren’t, but Dottie nodded for her to speak anyway.

  “Well,” she said softly, leaning forward, “you were right.”

  “Yes, I often am, but about what, dear?”

  Her voice lowered another octave. “He was arrested last night for drunk and disorderly.”

  “Goodness,” Dottie said to herself. “Why didn’t anyone know? Didn’t he call anyone?”

  “No,” Mara said, “that part’s even stranger. He refused his call. But I’ve sent his friend Luke down to the station to bail him out.”

  “Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Dottie asked. Luke seemed just as liable to get himself arrested as he was to successfully bail Beau out.

  Mara’s face lost color. “Oh dear, you might be right.”

  “Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?” Mara handed the things to her across the desk, and Dottie quickly jotted down the numbers she’d agreed upon with the Eds.

  “This is the agreement I walked away with f
rom the meeting. Please get things moving.”

  Mara gasped. “You were able to secure a sale this big?”

  “Yes, and now I have something more important to sort out.”

  She didn’t know what to expect when she arrived at the station—perhaps Luke standing outside with a sign of protest or a cake with a file baked into it—but he and Beau were sitting on a bench near the building, drinking from twin carafes.

  The relief of seeing him there, of knowing he was okay, physically at least, stole over her and made her breath come out in a gasp. She took two breaths like that, then said, “That better be coffee,” jolting their attention to her.

  Beau looked older than he had two days ago, as if the events of the past day had made his age weigh more heavily on him. At the same time, she didn’t sense what she had that first day. His soul no longer seemed out of alignment. Rather, it seemed like external forces were weighing on him, attempting to crush him like an ant.

  “Dottie,” he said with a sigh. “I didn’t want you to see me like this, but I understand from Luke that you’re the other person I have to thank.”

  “The only thing you need to thank me for is making a sale to the Eds, but we’ll talk about that later.”

  A look of confusion gave way to a widening of his eyes.

  “The meeting wasn’t canceled?”

  “There was no need. I took it. And they bought Beau Brown and Serenity Ale. Quite a bit of it actually.”

  With a wry twist of his lips, he said, “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Thank you for saying so. Mara certainly didn’t expect it.” Then she reached a hand out to him. “Are you ready?”

  His eyes widened again, as if he was surprised she was still bothering with him. That she should want to talk to him or touch him when he was like this, stuck in some sort of metaphysical muck.

  But she knew a thing or two about feeling that way, and there was no way she was going to let him do it alone.

  He took her hand and let her pull him to his feet.

  “Where are we going?” Luke asked, standing too.