And if that didn’t make him feel terrible…
“Not yet,” he said, “I have to talk to Jack first. I want to be with Georgie, but I don’t like all this closed-doors business. All of these lies and misunderstandings. I know she doesn’t either. I need to clear the air.”
“Speaking of misunderstandings,” she said, “I hope you don’t think Beau did this to spite you, or because he didn’t believe in you. When you told him you were happy at Big Catch, he didn’t want to get in the way of that. The way he structured the will—he did it because he wanted to make sure his grandkids took it seriously. Those Buchanans have competition running in their blood, he said, and he figured it would fire them up. I also think he wanted them to get to know you. It was his way of ensuring it. I wonder now if it was a mistake.”
“Let’s hope not, Aunt Dottie. I’m going to do everything I can to make it right.”
When he got home, he hugged Hops to his chest.
“I guess you’re sticking with me, buddy,” he said, and the little dog licked him. And then he picked up the apartment, so as not to look like an insane person, and video-called Jack.
Jack picked up on the first ring.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“He’s not coming,” Georgie said, scanning the room for the hundredth time.
Adalia put her hand on Georgie’s arm and squeezed. “I know this is easier said than done, but try to enjoy the party. All of these people are here to celebrate Grandpa Beau and you, Georgie. They’re excited you’re rebuilding his legacy.”
“Not anymore,” Georgie said, fighting the urge to cry.
A twenty-something man walked up and extended his hand, one of about a hundred in the last hour, or so it seemed, whose faces had all blended together. “I hear you’re Georgie Buchanan.”
“That’s right,” she said, forcing a smile as she shook his hand. “And this is my sister Adalia.”
Adalia took his hand next. “Call me Addy.”
The man’s smile grew bigger. “Call me Ned. Are you part of the family business too?”
“Sure am,” she said with a flirty look. “The Buchanan sisters are taking the Asheville brewing world by storm.”
He laughed.
“Along with our brothers,” Georgie added.
The man kept his gaze on Adalia, making it clear he didn’t give a hoot about their brothers. Georgie felt a little prick of protectiveness, but at the same time, she felt lucky her sister was around to butter people up. She currently felt about as charming as a cardboard box.
“They’re more like silent partners,” Addy said with a wink.
Adalia had come into work with Georgie that morning, and Dottie had given her the grand tour (Dottie’s words). She’d come back to Georgie’s office practically glowing with positivity—this was something Georgie ascribed to the Dottie Effect, a little-studied phenomenon about what happened when people drank Dottie’s Kool-Aid.
“She’s right about one thing,” Adalia had said. “It has good vibes. I feel weirdly at home here.”
Georgie had smiled at her, but with tears in her eyes. “I felt that way too.”
“We’ll talk sense into him, Georgie. Dottie says he just needs a little bit of time.”
Georgie hoped so, but she also knew how badly she’d messed up. There was a chance River might forgive her, but he likely wouldn’t forget. And even if he agreed to come back to work, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle the pain of seeing him every day, knowing how much he despised what she’d done to him. Knowing what could have been if she’d only been stronger.
“I want to be part of this, Georgie,” Adalia had said earnestly. “I want to help reopen Buchanan Brewery.”
That had choked Georgie up—how much would she have loved to hear that two weeks ago?—and she’d fought tears to reply with a straight face and clear voice. “I don’t know if there will be a Buchanan Brewery.”
“Dottie said not to worry,” Adalia had said, waving that off. “She thinks fate has a way of working things out.”
Maybe so, but who was to say fate was on her side? She was beginning to doubt she had any luck at all.
“Is River around?” Ned asked, his gaze darting around the packed tasting room. “I’d love to offer him my congratulations on landing at Buchanan. You know, we always thought he’d inherit the place.”
And didn’t that just twist the knife.
Addy gave him a sweet smile. “River’s currently detained, but I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.”
“Georgie,” Dottie called out as she pushed her way through the crowd toward her. “One of the TV crews is here.”
“Great,” Georgie said. “Tell them to make themselves at home and get whatever footage they need.”
Dottie’s face turned serious. “They want to interview you first.” Then she added in a lowered voice, “And River.”
Another twist of the knife. River had said he’d be at the party, but no one had seen or heard from him all day. What if he’d decided he might as well leave Asheville now since he’d have to start over eventually anyway?
Dottie squeezed her arm. “He’ll show up, dear.”
Georgie pushed her way through the crowd, pleased at the turnout, despite everything. It seemed like most of Asheville had shown up. She’d put out a lot of press releases and had personally invited news channels, entertainment websites, and magazines to be a part of Bury the Brewery, and quite a few had shown up. River had purposely held back the last of the reserve beer to make sure they were prepared for the party, but now she wasn’t sure how far it would stretch. Not only was the tasting room full, but there was a long line weaving outside the building.
Turned out everyone in Asheville wanted to be a part of the end of Beau Buchanan’s era. Everyone except for River.
Not that she blamed him.
The interview went off without a hitch, and if she looked less than miserable on camera, it was only thanks to Adalia, who’d applied cold compresses to her eyes to help take down the swelling from crying all day. A couple of days ago, River had gently suggested she wear something other than a business suit, which would mark her as an outsider, and she was grateful she’d taken his recommendation to heart. The light blue sundress she’d worn made her feel like less of a sore thumb. Her hair was loose and full of waves thanks to the French braids Adalia had put in it the night before. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that she’d dressed with River in mind, but as they counted down the last pulls, anticipating the last of the tap, he still hadn’t arrived.
Which meant he wouldn’t.
Dottie was behind the main bar, and when she held up a glass, announcing that it was the last of the keg, her voice broke as she said, “And that’s the end of an era.”
The room hushed and a lump filled Georgie’s throat, the first all day that wasn’t directly River-related.
“To Beau,” someone called out, holding up a glass, and the chorus went round the room. “To Beau.”
Georgie felt closer to Beau this evening than she ever had. So many people had come over to tell the Buchanan sisters stories about their grandfather. Many of those stories had featured Dottie, and several had also involved River. Those were the ones she cherished most, but they also tugged at her heart, reminding her of the pain she’d caused him, leading her to a conclusion her father would consider ridiculous. Infantile. Female.