Page 100 of Bad Luck Club

Her fingers itched for a hook or a pair of needles. Or the sometimes-delicious tedium of working at her loom. Because when she felt like this, at sea in her emotions, her art helped her make sense of it. The beauty of creating something substantial, something that could be seen and interpreted and understood, from a mess of yarn helped her make sense of whatever issues she was picking at too.

“You’re not the only one who is concerned, my dear. But he’s not going to move back here.”

She jerked her head up, meeting Dottie’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“He’s not meant to, Blue. Anyone with eyes can see he’s found his place in Asheville.” She gestured to the gathering around the table. “With his sisters and brother. With me. Withyou.Thisis what Beau wanted when he left the brewery to them. He didn’t really care whether they won Brewfest, although there’s no denying hedidlike to light a fire under people.”

From the fond way she said it, it was unclear whether she meant it literally.

“The point was to bring them all together,” Dottie continued. “And he did. He really did.”

Her smile said she gave Beau full credit for the tableau around them, for the Buchanan siblings eating together, with their partners—with the exception of Lee—and loving each other.

Blue had to smile. “You might have had a thing or two to do with it.”

She pursed her lips. “We always did work well together, my Beau and I. But our work isn’t done.”

That didn’t sound good.

Her phone finally buzzed—she knew because she’d set it beside her plate, like a teenager waiting to hear from her crush—and she jumped on it as excitedly as Finn grabbed for the Dog Chow that had just been set down on the table.

Sorry I’m missing it. (Although maybe not so sorry about the dogs. Possible new theme for Theme Motel?) I’m pretty sure they’re going to offer me the job, but Jeremy wants to introduce me to a couple of colleagues to make sure it’s a good fit. He’s going out of town tomorrow morning, so it had to be tonight. I won’t be able to get away for a little while longer. But I will be at the show.

She’d barely processed it before a few other heads bowed down. Adalia. Georgie. Jack. Dottie. He’d texted them too. Addy’s face twisted a little, her disappointment obvious.

If Lee could see that, she had to believe he’d throw everything down and take the first cab he found to meet them. Adalia had told her about the hot fudge sundaes earlier, after Finn brought her to the hotel, chocolate smeared on the corner of her mouth. She’d given Finn a shove after Georgie pointed it out, and he’d admitted he was in too much of a state of wonder that the sundae had worked to test his luck.

Then it struck her, with dawning horror.

Jeremy.

A job in commercial real estate.

Offices all along the East Coast.

It hadn’t occurred to her as a possibility because Remy’s main office had always been in Philadelphia.

It hadn’t occurred to her because she had purposefully avoided asking Lee for more details about his interview and the job that may lie beyond it.

It hadn’t occurred to her because her mind didn’t work the way Remy’s did, always plotting three moves ahead, always viewing other people as pawns that could be moved from point A to point B. Always playing the long game.

He wouldn’t.

But he would. Jeremy Rousseau had made it clear he had no intention to go gently into the good night. He had no intention to lose her for good, even if he’d never truly wanted her.

He had no intention to let her be happy with someone else.

Somehow he’d known, and he’d decided to move Lee on the chessboard. He’d hire him, whether he wanted him in the company or not, just to get him away from her. Just to get Lee under his thumb. It would be pure bonus that Lee was good at what he did.

Once he was in New York? She doubted Remy cared what happened then. He had thousands of employees; what was one more? He’d wanted to hurt her.

This was her Valentine’s Day surprise.

Her mind sifted through the memories of the last weeks, pinging to her Facebook messages with Hattie. Had her father been reading them all? Had he taken away the last method she had of communicating with her little sister, and used it against her? She’d admitted to Hattie that Lee was different, that he was special to her…

And the interview request had reached Lee’s inbox the next morning.

It took her a moment to realize Dottie was saying her name. A furrow had formed between her brows, and she had one hand on her crystal necklace, methodically rubbing it, and the other on Blue’s arm, as if to pass on healing energy or insights.

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