Page 8 of Any Luck at All

He shook his head and said the one thing he’d never imagined saying. “I quit.”

Chapter Three

Georgie watched as the cute guy—River—got up and made his escape. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so envious. He cast her a sympathetic glance on the way out, but she looked away, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

Talk about a train wreck.

She was half tempted to jump up and run after him, and not just because she found him attractive.

Instead, she was left with her over-the-top family and Dottie, who was pulling even more crystals out of her purse and stacking them on the table as if creating her own miniature Stonehenge. Apparently desperate times called for desperate measures. It was probably no accident that the stack appeared to be pointed toward her father, who was seething. “What the hell is going on, Manning?”

Mr. Manning’s face looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower.

Georgie had never realized one person could produce that much sweat, but then Prescott Buchanan could make the most confident of men shake in their boots. How many of her boyfriends had taken off running after meeting him?

Okay, only two had made it to that stage—one in high school and the other in college. Maybe that was why she was single now. She’d yet to date a man who could stand toe to toe with her father. She also knew it was an impossible bar to hold men to.

Terror filled the attorney’s eyes. “Uh…”

The legal assistant, who’d been standing behind him, stepped forward and handed him a napkin.

Mr. Manning started to dab his face, but he must have realized it was a lost cause, because he gave up halfway through and tossed the soaked napkin onto the table with a sickening splat.

Adalia turned and gave Georgie a theatrical look of disgust. At least she was willing to put her anger away for a moment, even if it was over their mutual disgust for the attorney’s overactive sweat glands.

Dottie seemed oblivious to it all and pulled out a skein of yarn and some knitting needles from her apparently bottomless purse. Georgie couldn’t tell what she was working on, but it looked like it had tiny armholes.

“Perhaps I should just get to the reading of the trust,” Mr. Manning said.

“Yes,” Georgie’s father sneered. “I think you should.”

Mr. Manning’s voice wavered as he started reading the thick document produced by his assistant. It was all dry legalese at the beginning, but when he got to the part saying everything Beau Buchanan owned would be passed on to his grandchildren, Adalia put her hand on the table and leaned forward. “In English, please.”

“It means you four children own it all,” Dottie said, her needles clicking. “Every last bit of it.”

“So we sell it,” Lee said. “Dad has to leave tonight, but I’ll stay a few days and find a commercial real estate agent.”

Adalia turned to her brother. “Who says I want to sell?”

His mouth dropped open. “What the hell would you do with a brewery?”

“I don’t know, Lee, butyoucan’t just decide to sell it. We should all be part of that decision.”

“With all due respect, Addy,” Lee said, softening his tone. “Stick to what you know.”

Adalia jolted in her seat. “Stick to what I know?”

“It has to be a unanimous decision to sell,” Mr. Manning said, then winced as he snuck a glance at Prescott. “One person refuses and you keep it. All of you. But you have to decide to sell or keep it by noon tomorrow, or it will be sold to the highest bidder, with the profits going to an animal shelter called Dog is Love.”

Prescott leveled a glare at his youngest daughter. “Agree to sell, Adalia.”

She flinched and sat back in her seat. Georgie resisted the urge to reach over and give her a pat of reassurance. Or her father a swat.

“I’ve heard enough,” Prescott said, getting to his feet. “Lee, clean this mess up.” He cast one final withering glance at all of them and strode out of the room.

As soon as he left, half the tension in Georgie’s shoulders faded. Adalia’s body seemed to relax too. The only one who still looked on edge was Georgie’s secret half-brother, who eyed them all as though they were an alien species, and it hit her how awkward this had to be for him. While she wasn’t thrilled her father had carried on an affair with the man’s mother, it wasn’t his fault. In fact, she suspected he wasn’t thrilled either.

“I’m Georgie,” she said, offering him a tentative smile. “You must be Jack.”

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