“No, Maisie,” he said at last, “this is real.” He paused, then added, “I think you’ll like her.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” she said in a huff, catching him off guard. Her eyes glimmered with something like pique.
“Why’s that?” he asked. Surely she hadn’t gotten a bad impression from less than thirty seconds of conversation. If this was about the kiss…well, that was his bad. He genuinely had forgotten Maisie was supposed to come over.
She shrugged. “Mostly I’m worried you’ll get hurt. What if she fires you over this?” She paused, thinking. “Besides, doesn’t it bug you that these people are going to take credit for your work? I mean, from what you said, none of them knows the first thing about beer. Sure, Georgie knows business, but that’s not one-size-fits-all. They couldn’t do this without you.”
He gave her a look. “Didn’t you just get done saying she might fire me? Because she kissed me?”
She made a choked sound. “She kissed you?”
“Let me guess, does that somehow make it worse?” He was beginning to get a little annoyed. Sure, the situation wasn’t ideal—and the fact that Georgie had just left like that made it a whole lot less ideal—but he could use a little support.
“Well, let’s just say you might have a good case for sexual harassment.”
“Seriously? Maybe we should table this discussion. I can tell we’re not going to see things the same way.” And wasn’t that a twist. They were usually on the same page—and when they weren’t, it was almost always River who was in the wrong. “The Buchanans own that brewery—they deserve to call the shots and hire someone who knows how to make beer. I want them to succeed, and I want to be a part of their success. From what you were saying earlier, I thought you had my back. That you realized how important this is for me.”
“I do,” she said, reaching out and giving his shoulder a squeeze. Warmth leaked back into her eyes. “And I’m happy for you. On both counts. I just don’t want to see things go south. Sorry, River. Bad day. One of the puppies yacked all over the place, and Dustin kept ducking out of the office because he thought someone was filming a movie over the way. He was sure he’d seen Zendaya. Turned out to be some kids filming themselves skating, but he spent half the day blogging about it. I’m just tired. Why don’t we watch the movie?”
“Yeah, good idea,” he said, although the thought of the CG cats made him want to shiver.
They got some more pizza, settled into the couch with Hops tucked between them and started the movie, just like they’d watched a hundred other movies through the years. But their conversation didn’t sit well. What did Maisie have against Georgie and her family? She was usually the most accepting person he knew. It didn’t seem like her, although he understood what she’d said about having a bad day. That could put anyone in a mood.
About ten minutes in, the horror of what he was watching stole over every other thought and emotion. Hops seemed to agree, because he gave a whimper and stole off to curl up on his sandal. A few minutes later, River looked at Maisie in disbelief.
“Did you know it would be like this?” he asked.
She gave him a look that was a little too serious to be, well, serious. “I think they were robbed at the Oscars.”
He threw a pillow at her. “You chose this to punish me.”
“No,” she said, laughing, “I chose it because it’s hilarious. This must be the most unintentionally hilarious movie of all time. Fifty years from now, you’ll be telling people where you were when you saw Cats.”
“You do realize that by forcing me to watch this, you also have to watch it.”
“Oh, it’s worth it,” she said.
And maybe it was, because they spent the next agonizing hour and a half laughing and joking as if nothing had happened between them.
When Maisie left, she gave him a hug. “Sorry again about earlier,” she said. “I know I got all weird and mama dog on you.”
“No need to apologize,” he said, and meant it. “Everyone’s entitled to their moods, and their opinions.”
“I’ll check in about Hops tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. Maybe he’d like to see his brothers and sisters again soon.”
“Sure, as long as the rest of them don’t start yacking. I don’t want to leave you with a sick puppy on your hands.”
After she left, the apartment felt aggressively empty, even with Hops, and River found himself staring at his phone. Maybe he should text Georgie. Not to pressure her or confront her about anything. He could keep things light, tell her about the movie. Warn her away from it, as it were. It would be an excuse to reach out, and he found he very much wanted one.
He was reaching for the phone when the text alert went off. For a second his spirits lifted, like he was Hops when presented with a bowl full of food, but a quick glance revealed it was Aunt Dottie, not Georgie. Because of course it wasn’t Georgie.
He unlocked the phone to see it was a text message, and was taken aback to realize it wasn’t just to him—she’d also sent it to Georgie, Jack, and two other numbers.
Please join me at Beau’s house on Sunday at 7 p.m. for a séance. I sense Beau has a very important message for you, my dear Buchanans. I’ll set up video conferencing for those of you who are unable to join us in person. I fear you’ll be unable to partake in the thematic meal I’m preparing, but we’ll be sure to show you everything on the video feed. Until then. Namaste, your friend Dottie.
What in the world was she planning now?
Chapter Nineteen
After returning to her hotel on Friday night, Georgie got an alert reminding her to check in for her flight.
Damn it. She’d meant to change the flight to next week, but all of the space in her mind had been occupied with the brewery debacle and River, and she’d completely forgotten. Something that was quite unlike her. But after a few moments’ reflection, she decided to fly home after all. She only had a few changes of clothes, and if she was moving to Asheville, she needed more of her personal belongings. Besides, after the way her evening had ended with River, a couple of days away seemed like a good idea. So instead of canceling it, she booked a flight back to Asheville on Sunday afternoon, early enough that she could get a good night’s sleep before (hopefully) having a fresh start on Monday.
But when she landed in Boston early Saturday afternoon, she turned her phone on and found a string of texts between her siblings.
Lee: Does she really expect us to “attend” this thing on Sunday night?
Adalia: Relax, Junior. It’ll be fun
Lee: Victoria and I have dinner reservations at Geoffrey’s.
Adalia: Of course you do
Lee: What’s that supposed to mean?
Adalia: That you’re too pretentious for your own good. Mom would want you to “attend”
Lee: That’s bullshit and you know it.
Adalia: Do I? …do YOU???
Adalia: Georgie, is Jack going to this thing?
What on earth were they talking about?
She was about to ask them when she scrolled down and saw Dottie’s text. She could have sworn it hadn’t been there that morning when she’d texted her friend Meredith saying she’d be home for less than twenty-four hours for the last time in who knew how long. Meredith had texted that she and her newest boyfriend had left for Nantucket the night before. She wouldn’t be back until late Sunday night, she’d said, but Georgie owed her an explanation on Monday.