Page 34 of Any Luck at All

But it hadn’t, or at least not for him. And she’d worn her hair down. Was that a message?

It wasn’t until they came closer that he realized they were arguing, and Georgie had a stricken look on her face. Jack’s expression veered closer to pissed.

Well, shit, that couldn’t be good. If breakfast had gone well, what could have happened since? Had something happened with the father, maybe?

Except…hadn’t he already left?

Georgie made ashut upgesture to Jack, and they crossed the street in silence.

“Hey,” River said, stepping toward Georgie. He went in for a hug, because that’s how they’d said goodnight, but she flinched away.

Definitely not good. Although maybe she was being a consummate professional, just like he’d told Dottie she would be. It was one instance in which he did not relish being right.

Georgie nodded to him—nodded—and then Jack did the same, although he looked like he’d rather punch him instead.

“Um. Okay,” he said. “Everything go all right at the lawyer’s office?”

Georgie opened her mouth to answer, but her gaze shot to Jack, and something like regret passed through her eyes.

“Yes. Fine,” she said, her tone not matching her words. But one look at Jack told River he’d do best not to press. If he was going to get her to talk, he’d have to do it alone. He’d gotten along with Jack last night—hell, he liked the guy—but now Jack was looking at him like they were blood-sworn enemies.

“Ooookayyy,” he said. “They gave most people the day off after yesterday, but Aunt Dottie said Josie, kind of a jack-of-all-trades assistant, would be able to show us around.” Jack-of-all-trades was a nice way of saying she didn’t really do anything but was still on the payroll, but he wouldn’t be the one to point it out. Nor was he about to mention the fact that Aunt Dottie had once described her as a bit peculiar. They’d soon figure both things out for themselves. “Did Henry give you the key?” When he was greeted with blank looks, he added, “Henry Manning. Beau’s attorney.”

Jack pulled it out of his pocket. “Yeah, we have it.”

He pushed his way past River and opened the door. The tasting room, a madhouse last night, had been restored to immaculate order. Knowing Aunt Dottie, she’d stayed late into the night, stacking chairs and rinsing glasses right along with all of the other employees—and reading their energy and commenting on their love lives while she was at it. Her work ethic had always impressed him. When he was younger she’d run a little business on the side, making energetic necklaces and selling them at fairs. He’d even helped her a time or two, although that wasn’t something he’d advertised to his friends. If he hadn’t had her as an example, he wasn’t sure where he would have ended up.

So he was smiling a little as he led the Buchanans into the other half of the building. He knocked on the door, then knocked again when Josie didn’t answer. She should have been expecting them, but then again, she had the mistaken belief that she had a deeply ingrained sense of time—one that required no watch or alarm.

One more knock, and Jack shook his head impatiently.

“Let’s just open it. It’s ours now. No sense in waiting.” He sent a look of gloom Georgie’s way as he said it, and she bit her lip. Part of River wanted to tell Jack to back off, but he didn’t want to interfere.

So he stepped aside, falling in next to Georgie—close enough that he could feel the heat of her—and Jack blasted the door open.

Letting out several bubbles. A sea of them, a few inches deep, covered the usually immaculate floor. The equipment might not be new anymore, but everything was usually clean.

“What the hell?” Jack said, stealing the words from his mouth.

Josie stood to one side of the door, her eyes huge behind her oversized wire-framed glasses.

One look at Georgie told River all he needed to know—she was horrified—and without overthinking it, he reached over and squeezed her hand.

She squeezed back, and instead of letting him go immediately, like he’d thought she would, she held on.

He would have enjoyed it more if only her brother hadn’t been giving him the look of death. Because he’d done nothing to deserve it, he gave that look right back to him. Georgie released his hand and took a few steps toward Josie, her feet forming a path through the bubbles.

“You’re Josie, right?” she asked, her tone kind but direct.

Josie just nodded mutely.

“I’m Georgie Buchanan, and this is my brother, Jack,” Georgie said. “We’re taking over for our grandfather, so we need to know what happened here.”

“I was hoping no one would notice,” Josie said, biting her lip.

Georgie glanced back at River, their eyes meeting, and he could have sworn she was on the verge of hysteria-induced laughter. Instead, she turned back to Josie, remarkably cool and collected. “Well, I’m afraid that ship has sailed. Can you please tell us?”

“Yes,” Jack said sarcastically, “I’m dying for more bad news.”

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