Then he’d leaned over and vomited, giving them something else to clean up.
Jack shot Georgie a look—lots of silent conversations going on here—and said, “I’d like to talk to Lurch.” His fierce gaze shifted back to River. “Alone.”
Part of River wanted to say be my guest. Lurch deserved it, didn’t he? The man had pissed in a kettle of beer, which was beyond a cardinal sin for a brewmaster, and worse, he didn’t know which one it had been.
For all they knew, it had only been the fever dream of a very drunk old man. But it didn’t matter. If the Buchanans were any kind of honest, this meant they had to throw out the contents of every single kettle.
Georgie’s panicked expression said she knew it.
“I told him to leave out the back,” River said. “He’s in no shape to talk. But I suggested he come by Monday morning to apologize. Just fair warning that morning to him is noon, earliest.”
“Of course it is,” Jack muttered, rubbing his brow. “What kind of sideshow is this?”
“The Cesspool of Sin,” River said with a grin, shifting his gaze to Georgie. Her eyes had a faraway look, like her mind was hard at work, reaching for a solution. Or maybe trying to figure out a way to rewind the last hour so she could tear up those papers instead of signing them. “Or so some politician called us. We wear it as a badge of pride.” His grin slipped. “Look, you might want to go easy on him.”
“Go easy?” Jack said, raising his voice. “And why the hell would we do that?” The accusation in his tone was obvious. He leveled a glance at Georgie, cutting River out, and said, “We should take legal action against that idiot.”
Georgie’s mouth firmed like she was considering it.
River understood the sentiment. Here Jack had probably thought he’d hit the jackpot—and now someone had literally pissed in it. And he didn’t need Georgie to tell him that this wasn’t the kind of ship she usually ran. Didn’t matter. He couldn’t let that happen.
“Look,” he said, keeping his tone flat and calm. “You could do that. You’d be well within your rights. But consider this—you’re two outsiders taking over a local brewery. Lurch is part of this town. He might be an idiot half the time”—at least three-fourths, he mentally corrected—“but he knows basically everyone who lives here, and most of them actually like him. Your grandfather certainly did, and it wasn’t for his brewing skills. Besides which, he doesn’t have much money, so you’d be paying through the nose to make a point. Do you really want to start out here like that?”
Georgie laughed, but this wasn’t her natural laugh from last night—this one held a razor’s edge of panic. “I’m starting to think I don’t want to start out here at all.”
“Hey,” he said, meeting her eyes, “I get that. This”—he gestured back to the brewery—“isn’t exactly a great impression. But we can come back from it. Think of it as a clean slate.”
“I’m listening,” Jack said, catching River off guard. He’d been looking into Georgie’s eyes still, and he’d somewhat forgotten Jack was there.
“Everyone thinks Buchanan’s flatlined, right?” River said, forcing himself to look back and forth between them. “That the creativity’s gone? Well, here’s our chance to make it new. Now. I suggest we make a couple of the flagship brews, the classics, but the rest should all be new. Why wait?” He paused, then added, “Of course, we should definitely wait for everything to be professionally cleaned. Maybe twice.” This he added with a hint of a smile for Georgie’s sake.
Georgie didn’t smile back, but she reached for him, something that made his heart race in his chest before she realized what she was doing and let her hand drop. Her cheeks pinkened a little. “Will we have to close for a while? What are we supposed to do if there’s no beer to sell? Or to bottle?”
“There’s got to be a reserve,” River said. “Enough to last us for a while. Probably a couple of weeks. Maybe more. But any beer we brew now won’t be ready in time to fill the gap. So, yeah, we might have to close for a while.”
Georgie’s mouth pressed into a worried line, and he wanted nothing more than to span that gap between them and take her hand. To comfort her the way he wanted to. Instead, he forced himself to shift his gaze back to Jack. “Did you hold any events at that bar you manage?”
“Sure,” he said, caught off guard. He hadn’t been expecting that. “St. Patrick’s Day in Chicago is a pretty big deal.” His mouth twitched with a hint of humor. “The fact that I’m still alive should count for something.”
A glint entered Georgie’s eyes, and she tilted her head to look at River. “You think we should do a grand reopening.”
“Look at you,” he said with a grin. “You’ve only known my aunt for one day, and you’re already reading minds. Must be that pink crystal.”
“This’ll take a lot of planning,” Georgie said, but she didn’t sound so dejected anymore. She sounded like she was actually looking forward to it.
And so was he—because he’d get to plan it with her. She probably had a special pen she used for planning launches and the like. And if she didn’t, maybe he’d get one for her.
“I’ve got to hand it to you,” Jack said, shaking his head. “It’s a great idea. Five minutes ago, I didn’t know if we’d be able to turn this around. But this might just do it. This place needs a total reset.” His glance darted to Georgie, as if silently asking her opinion, and she gave a small nod. That was good—it meant they were forming a mutual respect, something they’d need for a successful partnership. He had a feeling he’d have a harder time winning Jack’s trust.
Jack’s phone rang, and he pulled it out to look at the caller ID. A pained look crossed his face, and he nodded to them. “I’ve got to take this.”
Then he was gone, and it was just Georgie and River in the empty tasting room.
He nodded to the table they’d abandoned earlier. “I think it’s about time for that water, don’t you? Everyone needs water.”
She laughed, and this was the laugh from the night before, which felt like a victory. “You’re right about that. They say up to sixty percent of the body is water.”
“Except for Lurch,” he said as he followed her back to the table. “It sounds like he was at least twenty percent beer last night.”
She shook her head as they reached the table. “I still can’t believe he did that.”
Because she’d run a professional outfit, and truth be told, Aunt Dottie had influenced Beau in a lot of ways these last years.
She sat down, and River sat opposite her.
“Lurch was nice earlier, but I guess he must really hate us,” she said. “Will a lot of people feel that way? Like we’re outsiders prying this place away from Beau?”
“Maybe some of them. There are foolish people everywhere, no escaping that,” he said. And because he really was his aunt’s nephew, he poured her a glass of water and slid it over. “But I think you, Georgie Buchanan, are the best thing to ever happen to this place. And so did Beau. That’s why he left it to you. He knew you’d be the one to turn this ship around.”