Through a Magnolia Filter (17 page)

Mamma tapped a finger on Dolley's hands. They were balled into fists in her lap. She forced her fingers to uncurl.

“Your ancestors were a little different than most, having come from money.”

“Based on the letters you brought us and what we've found, James had an inheritance he put to good use,” Dolley said.

Liam's eyebrows arched up, but the camera wouldn't catch that. “He was wealthy. A rather different journey than that of the countrymen and women who escaped Ireland during the famine.”

A prickle of unease wormed its way down Dolley's back. “I don't know if every immigrant was poor.” She spoke only to Liam. “I do know James was a good businessman.”

Liam nodded. “Not so hard when he had the money.”

“It wasn't a crime to have money back then,” she snapped.

Mamma set a hand on her shoulder.

Didn't Mamma understand what Liam was doing?

“James Fitzgerald went into shipping when he immigrated, right?” Liam asked.

Everyone nodded.

“James bought a small shipping company based out of London and established the American ports,” Dolley answered. Where was Liam taking these questions? “The warehouse he owned in Savannah burned down in the mid-1940s, but by then the family fortune was declining.”

“My mother remembered playing in the warehouse.” Mamma talked about the bank and shipping company. “Now it's all gone.”

“When James immigrated, Georgia was a slave state,” Liam said. “Did the family own slaves?”

Dolley sank back in her seat and looked at Mamma. She hated the tone of Liam's questions.

“I never heard of any,” Mamma said.

“I think they would have been noted in the ledgers,” Dolley said. “Freedmen worked in the warehouse.” She visualized the journal pages. “But there are lots of Irish surnames in the ledgers.”

Liam sat straighter. “Did he make a point of hiring his countrymen?”

His brilliant gaze was like an electrical current zapping her every nerve ending. It stole her breath.

She ripped her gaze away from him and forced the pages of the journal to flip through her memory. “I...I think there were mostly Irish surnames. He might have.”

Liam handed her copies of the journal pages.

“Yes. Here,” Dolley said, excitement bubbling inside her chest. “These are the household staff. O'Connor. Flanagan. Tolan. O'Gara. I wonder if this O'Gara is related to the current owners of the pub.”

“I remember a housekeeper named Flanagan.” A soft smile filled Mamma's face. “She used to sneak me cookies.”

Mamma reminisced about the staff and Fitzgerald House until they all fell silent.

“That's it, ladies.” Liam grinned. “Thank you so much.”

Dolley stretched. She checked her phone. My goodness, they'd talked for two hours.

“I understand you're taking Abby's wedding pictures.” Mamie laid her hand on Liam's arm. “Thank you for stepping in.”

“You've made me feel so welcome. It was the least I could do.” He covered Mamma's hand with his. “And since Dolley is my apprentice, she'll help pull the pictures together.”

“I heard she was a little more than that.” Her eyebrows arched. “We'll talk at the wine tasting.”

Bess slipped by Dolley and whispered, “You're in for it now.”

“Liam, you'll join us for dinner?” Abby asked.

“That would be lovely.” He unscrewed the camera from the tripod.

Abby walked out with Bess. Mamma gave Dolley one more look before she left.

They were alone. Finally. “What is the focus of your documentary?”

“The Irish in Savannah. In the South.” He bent to pack the camera.

She crossed her arms. “Then why all the questions on wealth and slaves? Are you trying to make our family look bad?”

“Of course not.” But he stayed bent over his bags so she couldn't read his eyes.

“Look at me.”

He stood up. “Yes?”

“What is the...the premise of your documentary?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “It's...haves versus have-nots.”

She shivered like he'd doused her with ice water. “And the Fitzgeralds are the
haves
?”

He paced to the fireplace and back. “Yes.”

His answer doubled her over, like he'd hit her in the stomach. “I can't believe you'd do that.” She waved her hands. “Are you going to tell the audience we lost the fortune and we deserved our financial downfall? We
deserved
to have to turn our home into a business?”

He rushed to her side, taking her hand. “That's not the story I plan to tell.”

“How can I believe you?” She jerked her hand away. “This is all we have. You paint us in a...greedy light and we might lose everything. I won't let you do that.”

“I would never...”

She shook her head. “I trusted you.”

He tried to catch her shoulders, but she ran to the door.

She was a fool when it came to men. What if the documentary hurt her family? Hurt the B and B?

Nausea burned the back of her throat. Not from speaking on camera. This time because of Liam.

* * *

L
IAM
PACED
HIS
ROOM
. His walk through the squares hadn't soothed his temper.

He'd made a hash of things. Dolley had looked at him like he was lower than a snake.

Even if his documentary was about rich versus the poor, that didn't mean he would cast the Fitzgeralds in a bad light. They were generations away from James FitzGerald's journey to America.

She'd never made a documentary. She didn't know how to structure a film. He had. Besides, this was
his
documentary. He would tell the story of the Irish in Savannah his way.

He dropped into the desk chair. If he did, Dolley might never speak to him again. Her family would push him away.

He twirled the documents he'd brought in to the interview. Dolley had been right about the names on the ledgers; they were familiar. He'd seen them on Savannah businesses and noted their Irish names as possible people to interview.

The chair creaked as he sat up. The names were right from the ledgers he and Dolley had reviewed.

Maybe his story wasn't about
haves
versus
have-nots
. Maybe there was more. Maybe it was about the Fitzgeralds helping their countrymen.

Dolley would know. She might even be able to connect him with the descendants of the families who worked for James and Fiona Fitzgerald.

And maybe—he'd get back in her good graces. Because right now he doubted if she would let him hold her hand.

Can we talk?
he texted. His fingers rattled against his phone as he waited for her answer.

Later. Working wine tasting.

Perfect. In a public setting, she couldn't snarl at him.

He grabbed the sheets and headed to the library. Mamie stood next to the anniversary couple he'd met last night. She waved as he walked in.

At least Dolley hadn't poisoned her mother against him. He exhaled. Losing the affection of the Fitzgerald family would cut a hole in his heart.

Dolley cleared dirty dishes. She raised an eyebrow and hefted the tray.

“I could carry that for you,” he offered.

“I don't need your help.” She headed to the kitchen.

He traipsed behind her.

“I'm working.” She bumped the kitchen door open with her hip. “I know you think I work only for you, but I don't. I have other responsibilities.”

“That's not fair.”

The dishes clanked as she set them down next to the sink.

“Fair?” She drilled a finger into his chest, green eyes blazing. “Coming from you, that's rich. Fair is telling me how you were going to paint my ancestors. Fair would have been letting me know that we were the bad guys, so I could tell my family not to talk to you. Fair would have been explaining your
premise
before we signed those damn releases.”

“Ouch.” He grabbed at her hand.

She stepped out of his reach. “I have things to do.”

“You can't spare a minute?” His temper was igniting, and he yanked it under control. “Sixty seconds?”

She scraped leftover food into a bin. “What for?”

Had they really kissed multiple times? They were so out of sync, it was like they were on different planets. “I want to explore another angle. Another premise.”

“Rich versus poor isn't enough for you? You found another way to humiliate us?”

“Dolley.” Frustration infused her name.

She hung her head and exhaled. “One minute.”

“I want to find these people's descendants.” He spread the papers in front of her and pointed at the names. “There's too many to be a coincidence. I think James and Fiona helped their countrymen. Help me find them.”

She stared at the paper. Silent.

Was he losing her? Losing her family?

“If it's true James and Fiona helped their countrymen, that's the story you'll tell?” Her eyes swam with emotion.

“I would never hurt your family.” He moved around the counter, turning her to face him.

She chewed her lip. “It was your questions...” Her voice trailed off. Vulnerability filled her face.

“Trust me.” He touched her chin, wanting to kiss her worries away.

“I'm not good at trusting men.” She stroked his cheek.

He caught her hand, relieved she would reach out to him. “Maybe if we work together on this, you'll start to trust me.”

“Maybe.” Her arms circled his waist.

He pulled her close and brushed a kiss on the top of her head. “Thank you.”

His world righted. They'd better be able to verify that James and Fiona had truly helped the immigrants. Because if he couldn't convince his producer this was a viable story line, Dolley would hate him.

Then he'd lose the Fitzgeralds. Not acceptable.

* * *

D
OLLEY
KNEW
THE
exact moment Liam entered the kitchen. The air changed. Just like before a lightning storm and the hairs on her arm stood on end. She forced herself not to rush to his side.

She wanted to trust him.

He bent and brushed a hello kiss on her mouth.

Licking her lips, she tasted whiskey. “You've been into the Jameson.”

He held up a tumbler, the ice rattling in the glass. “I have.”

Gray pushed open the courtyard door, shedding his coat. “I know I just left Boston, and it was snowing, but it's cold here.” His gaze zeroed in on Liam's glass as he headed for the fire. “That looks appealing.”

“Warm up and I'll fetch a glass.” Liam headed to the door but turned back. “Daniel, what about you?”

Daniel stood in front of the fire with his arm around Bess's shoulders, like they were joined at the hip. “I'll take the same. Thanks.”

Dolley watched Liam go. She'd seen him do small things like pouring wine or helping her sisters and the staff all the time. He'd even acted as bellhop when Nigel or another staff member wasn't around.

He'd woven himself into the fabric of the B and B, and she couldn't imagine life without him. Doubt crawled through her like a virus. Was there a purpose behind his kindness?

“Anything I can do?” she asked Abby, unable to stand still.

“Get water for us?”

Dolley filled the pitcher and added lemons and ice.

When Liam backed through the door and headed to the sitting area, she stared at him.

Bess came to the table with a stack of plates. “Look at those three men.”

Her sister's whisper gave her an excuse to study him longer.

Liam fit right in. The guys were all about the same height, six-one or six-two. Both Liam and Gray had black, wavy hair, but Liam's was longer, more artistic. In contrast, Daniel had blond hair, also long. All three men wore blue jeans and sweaters, Gray's dressier than Daniel's. Liam had a leaner look; his tight jeans made his legs look like he was a runner.

Liam stood back a little, keeping his glass close to his mouth and observing the two men. What was he thinking?

An arm caught her waist. The scent of Mamma's familiar perfume had her shoulders softening.

“Lost in thought?” Mamma asked.

She wrapped an arm around Mamma so they were linked. “Maybe a little daydreaming.”

Mamma shot her gaze over to the group of men. “He's quiet. Almost sad.”

“He is.” She added, “A couple of times I've given him smile goals.”

“And you and he are...dating?” A shimmer of anxiousness filled her mother's voice.

“We haven't gone out much, but, yes.” She sighed. “I've tried to get him into the pubs, but he loves the quiet.”

“And you love your crowds.” Mamma rubbed her back. “He lives in Ireland.”

“I know. Galway.” Dolley turned. “Did you ever want to see where our ancestors came from?”

“Not really. After I married your father, there was never the money. Then when I went to help Aunt CeCe in Atlanta, it would have been hard to find the time.”

“But now Aunt CeCe has full-time help.”

Mamma nodded. “After I told Martin about the interview, he suggested we go to Ireland.”

“He's so good for you.” Mamma deserved to have fun. “When is Martin coming to Savannah?”

“By Thursday. That's when Gray's family are coming in.”

“Ahhh, we're presenting a united front.” Dolley laughed.

Mamma brushed her hand one more time on Dolley's back. “Since I haven't met the Smythes and they were rough on Abby the first time they met her, I want us all to be here.”

“You're protecting Abby?” Dolley laughed again.

Liam turned.

“Abby will come after them with her longest chef knife,” Dolley said.