“We could have become an anchor in the community,” River said. “The kind of place people can count on.” The last words sounded a little sharp, like some of his hurt was leaking out, and he patched it back in. “And yeah, maybe I knew you’d walk at some point, but I didn’t think you’d sell to the devil. And I definitely didn’t think you’d do it now.”
They both knew what now meant, and he saw a flash of pain in Finn’s eyes. Yeah, he knew he’d messed up good.
“Like I said, I made some bad calls. But selling to Bev Corp was the right move.”
River started to say something, but Finn cut him off. “I know what you and Dottie think about them, and hell, maybe you’re not altogether wrong, but they offered a good deal to you, and to the rest of my people. That’s what mattered to me. I don’t want to screw anyone over. I’m just… I got bored.” Finn met his gaze then, and he held it. “And be honest with me, River, because I got the impression that you were getting bored too.”
River’s first instinct was to rage at him again, but then he found himself thinking of how he’d felt last night, sitting with Georgie and Jack, talking about their plans for the future. He’d felt more excited about work than he had in at least a year, maybe two. And it wasn’t because he lived for challenges—he and Finn weren’t alike in that. It was because Buchanan Brewery was a different kind of place. It was a family business with deep roots. It wasn’t a flashy new thing, but something well loved that had been pushed to the back of the drawer. And he and Georgie and Jack could polish it up and make it new again. There was something special in that, something sacred.
“Yes and no,” he said, his tone softer than it had been, “but you let me down by not talking to me. And I still quit. I’ll give Gladys a call to work out details and pick up some of my stuff today or tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Finn said, “I accept that.” He got up from the table and pushed his chair in, then shot a longing look at the cinnamon buns.
“Go ahead,” River said with a wave. His aunt had brought a good dozen.
Finn nodded and scooped one up with a napkin. “So where does this leave us?” he asked. It wasn’t the kind of question Finn usually asked—to the point where River almost wanted to tease him about it, but he wasn’t ready for that yet.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But I don’t trust you right now, and I don’t know if I ever will again.”
He saw the hurt on Finn’s face, but he didn’t back down. Couldn’t. They both knew he meant it.
“Well, I heard something about you working with the Buchanans.”
River just nodded.
“Word to the wise. Bev Corp wouldn’t be opposed to buying them out as a second location for Big Catch.”
And he’d thought calling them the devil was putting it too strongly?
“Thank you, Finn. But I think it’s time you leave,” he said flatly, stepping aside.
Finn walked past him, Aunt Dottie calling out, “Lovely to see you, dear! Consider what I said about seeing Lola. I’ve never had such a spot-on reading. No better time to go than when you’re at a crossroads.”
“Thanks, Dottie. I’ll keep it in mind,” he intoned. He looked back at River once before he left. “Cute dog.”
The as-yet-unnamed puppy was humping a discarded sandal.
Then the door closed and Finn was gone, probably out of River’s life too. Which hurt more than he would have liked.
Focus on the new job.
So why did he find himself thinking of Georgie? Wondering if she’d like the puppy better than she did Beau’s mostly evil cat? Wondering if he was making the right call even if he needed—and really, really wanted—the job?
Because you’re an idiot, that’s why. And Finn knows it too. That’s why he didn’t talk to you about this while Beau was dying. He thought you’d fall apart.
“I recognize that look,” Aunt Dottie said knowingly. “Beau’s granddaughter is quite lovely, isn’t she?”
“Really?” he said, stooping to pet the dog—and remove the sweater. It was, after all, the beginning of June, but Aunt Dottie did love her knitting. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You know how I feel about lying, River.”
He glanced up at her and smiled. Something told him everything was—currently—going according to her plans. But she had to know he couldn’t, or at least really, really shouldn’t, notice how beautiful Georgie Buchanan was if he intended to accept her job offer.
“You asked a rhetorical question. Anyone with eyes can see she’s beautiful. It’s only after talking to her for a while that you realize she’s also brilliant, kind, and funny.”
Aunt Dottie’s eyes lit up. “I knew it! The pink crystal wanted to go to her. It sensed there was something between you.”
“Well, Aunt Dottie, you might want to rethink your interpretation. That pink crystal nearly ended up smashing my brains in.”
He told her about the way he and Georgie had officially met last night. They relocated to the table, and he ended up telling her a whole lot more, ending with the offer she and Jack had made.
“I guess I’m going to take it,” he said, “although I can’t say it doesn’t suck.”
“What makes you think you can’t romance her if you work with her?”
Leave it to his aunt to put it like that.
“Well, there are rules about that kind of thing,” he said.
“Not at Buchanan Brewery,” she said. “I started working there before Beau and I began courting. Indeed, it’s how we got to know each other. You really learn the make of someone when you work with them.”
“Well, I’m not so sure about that,” he said, gesturing toward the door even though Finn had left a long time ago. “Besides, even if it’s not in the HR manual, surely it’s not encouraged. And trust me, Aunt Dottie, she’s nothing if not proper. Even if it’s not unheard of, it would be for Georgie.”
His aunt shook her head knowingly. “That pink crystal tells me differently. There’s a lovely energy to that girl. Nothing like that dry husk of a father. She’s the type who’ll stand up for what she believes in—and for the people she believes in.” A sad look crossed her face. “And I’m not so sure you misjudged Finn, either. Sometimes you expect too much from people, dear, and it can only end in disappointment.”
He shrugged it off, although it was the kind of comment that had barbs, and he already knew he’d be thinking about it later.
“We’ll see, I guess.”
“Indeed, we will,” she said, shifting her gaze to the puppy, who’d fallen asleep on the sandal he’d been humping earlier.
“Hope he didn’t imprint on it,” River said.
“What are you going to name him? He looks an awful lot like a Flavius to me.”
River just shook his head. He was used to Aunt Dottie coming up with ridiculous names for things. “I was thinking I’d call him Hops. The last time I spoke to Beau, he told me he thought our…Big Catch’s new beer was too hop-forward.” He shrugged. “I bet he’d find it funny.”