Page 33 of Any Luck at All

Grandpa Beau

Georgie stared up at the now-drenched attorney in horror. “What challenge?”

“What does it say?” Jack asked.

She handed him the paper and his head moved slightly from side to side as he read. Mr. Manning pulled yet another paper out of his stack. “I could read the legalese, or I could get to the heart of it.”

“I’d rather just hear the bad part,” Jack said, setting the paper on the table in front of Georgie.

“Yes, please cut to the chase,” she said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

“Well, there are two stipulations. The first is that Dottie Hendrickson cannot be fired. She can only retire of her own volition.”

“Well, that’s no problem,” Georgie said, puzzled. Why would her grandfather have thought it was even necessary to put that in writing?

“Like I said, let’s hear the bad part,” Jack said.

The perspiration on Mr. Manning’s brow confirmed he’d told them the easy part first. He cleared his throat, then said, “Buchanan Brewery has to place in the top five of the Brewfest Competition.”

She shook her head. “Brewfest Competition… River told me about it last night. It’s a beer contest.”

He nodded, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing his forehead. “It’s usually held at the beginning of March.”

March…it was early June, so they’d only have ten months.

Her mouth gaped. “River told me that Buchanan Brewery hasn’t placed in years.”

“Let me get this straight,” Jack said, leaning over the table while his eyes bored into the attorney’s. “We have less than a year to take a below-average brewery and make it nationally competitive?”

Grimacing, Mr. Manning wiped his handkerchief over his forehead. “I’m sorry. I reallydidtry to talk him out of it.”

Georgie’s head swam and she sat back in her seat as she tried to soak this in. Was it even possible to create a winning beer by then? From what River had told her about brewing, it took weeks just to create one batch. Trying not to panic, she said, “What if we realize we’ll never win and we want to sell it instead?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Georgie. By signing those papers, you agreed not to sell.”

She’d been a fool not to read the fine print. She knew better than that, but she’d been caught up in the moment, thinking about the future. About the look on her father’s face when he learned his children had chosen Beau over him.

“And what happens if we lose?” Because Georgie’s father had taught her at a very young age that there was no point of a challenge if a dastardly threat wasn’t dangling over her head.

Now she wondered if her father had learned his tactics from Beau. That sweet old man she’d met had had some bite left in him.

“The brewery goes to the person originally named in the will.”

“And who is that?” she forced out past the lump in her throat.

“River Reeves.”

Chapter Twelve

River stood outside of the brewery, tapping his foot while he waited for Georgie and Jack. The whole nervous energy thing wasn’t usually his jam, but he’d left Hops at home in his crate, so he didn’t have a puppy to fuss over. Maybe he was overthinking it, but it felt like a lot was riding on this moment.

What if the walk-through didn’t go well, and Georgie and Jack changed their minds? Sure, Georgie had seen the brewery before, but she probably hadn’t been looking at things critically—like she would be today—and he was well aware most of the equipment was old. If Bev Corp was waiting in the wings with an attractive offer, it might be hard for them to say no.

He didn’t think they’d cop out, he really didn’t, but so much of his life had changed in a blink. So much of what he’d counted on had slipped away.

He’d expected them to take a car—although it wasn’t a long walk, it wasn’t terribly short either—so it took him a moment to notice them across the street. His heart thumped faster in his chest at the sight of Georgie, her hair bouncing around her face. Jack strolled beside her, and they were deep in conversation.

He’d been thinking of seeing her again too—wondering if it would feel the same, or if the magic of the previous night would slip away.

---