Page 5 of Luck of the Draw

My buddy, Ray, had sat back and watched everything unfold with a smile on his face. He’d known I would talk to Dottie, whose eccentricity was the kind that didn’t have to creep up on you—how many older ladies have bright pink hair?—just like he’d known I’d step in to break up the fight.

Saint Dylan, they’d called me in the Marines. As the middle child of three siblings, I’d naturally been the peacemaker, and it seemed I’d carried that habit to war with me.

But Dottie had brought us both beers, on the house, so Ray was content to chill and drink his beer while she sat me down at a separate table.

For a moment she just studied me, and it was kind of creepy the way she was staring, like she was seeing past the surface of my skin. We might have sat there for a solid minute before she spoke. Finally, she nodded as if satisfied and said, “You’re in exactly the right place at exactly the right time.”

Somehow I knew she wasn’t talking about the way I’d stopped the fight. Still, I responded as if I didn’t know any better. “Yeah, I’m glad to help.”

She tilted her head at an angle, looking at me again. “How would you like a job, my dear?”

“But you don’t even know my name.” For some reason that was the first thought that came to mind, not the fact that I didn’t really need a job since I already sort of had one at my dad’s sporting goods store, or that I lived in North Adams, Massachusetts and was only here on vacation.

“I don’t need to. Iseeyou.”

Normally, I would have written that off as some spooky bullshit, but there was something different about Dottie. Like maybe she did understand me, however impossible that was. Like maybe she saw something in me that I was too blind to see in myself. I didn’t accept her offer that night, because I’m not totally crazy, but I came back the next day and told her I’d take the job.

Because what the hell. Being home had worked for me at first, when I was healing, but it had stopped feeling right a long time ago.

I started a week later, after moving what little I owned to an apartment in West Asheville. And dammit if it hadn’t been the right call. The water pressure sucked, and all of the furniture in my place had something wrong with it, but it was mine, and I didn’t have to ask my parents every time I wanted to invite someone over.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Finally, River sighed, deep and loud, wrenching me back to the present. “I don’t know. Distract them. Trip them. Just please make sure they don’t ruin this for Georgie. She’s planned out this day in notebook upon notebook, but there’s no planning for Lurch and Josie. Or for any of Aunt Dottie’s other friends, for that matter. If you see a wedding crasher, assume the worst and try to stop them.”

“Roger,” I said, throwing him a salute. Not the kind of thing I should be throwing a civilian’s way, but it was obvious he needed to relax.

Daniel mimicked the gesture. “We’ve got your back.”

The assurance would be more convincing if Daniel weren’t the most unreliable person alive. He was a good guy, and I counted him as a friend, but when he wasn’t at work, he smoked weed from dawn until dusk.

“Thanks, guys. Why don’t you head out to the bar? They’re going to let people grab drinks before the ceremony.”

“My man,” Daniel said, giving him another pat and heading for the door.

It was on the tip of my tongue to remind him thatweweren’t supposed to drink, at least not until our replacements arrived halfway through the reception. Daniel would doubtless stay, while I would be headed home the first chance I got.

Weddings weren’t my thing, even though IlikedRiver and Georgie. He made the beer at Buchanan, and she ran the brewery, along with her three siblings. It was the kind of story you might find in theNew York Timeswedding column, which I only knew about because my sister was obsessed with reading it at the breakfast table. Of course, there was little chance of them getting any space in theNew York Timesgiven Georgie’s real estate magnate father, who was a public disgrace due to a collection of felony charges I hadn’t been here long enough to learn about.

Still, River and Georgie deserved to have everything work out according to their plans.

So I nodded to him before I left and added, “Don’t worry. After four years in the Marines, I’m pretty sure I can handle policing a wedding reception.”

He smiled at me, but it looked a little forced, and who could blame him?

If Lurch had gotten River’s brewery closed down for three months with a little pee, what might he do to his wedding?

* * *

The weather was perfect, not like the day of my wedding, which had turned into an ice storm people still talked about. Dottie would probably have something to say about that. She liked talking about signs, usually to people who didn’t know better than to duck out of the conversation before it got rolling.

Normally, when we tended bar at Buchanan, we just pulled beers, but in addition to the kegs, we were making two cocktails—an old-fashioned and a lemon drop martini. Luckily, we were making them in pitchers, not individual servings, so it would be easy to get people what they needed quickly.

We were set up on the events lawn, where the reception would take place. The flowers were all budding, and the arboretum itself set the scene. Although they’d decorated a bit, with tables displaying crisp white tablecloths and centerpieces of yellow flowers, there wasn’t a need to do much. Nature had done it for them. That was one of the lures that had drawn me out here—a longer spring and fall, a shorter winter. After my tours of duty, I’d lost the ability to tolerate all that ice and snow with anything approaching good humor. It was like four years of heat and the desert had nullified twenty-five years of practice with brutal winters.

“Hey, is that Lurch?” Daniel said, pointing to a short bald man in a suit. We were about to open the bar but hadn’t yet, and a group of people had set up across from us, kind of like when people gathered near the boarding gate before their flight was even announced.

“Don’t you know Lurch?” I asked.

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