Through a Magnolia Filter (26 page)

Both Jerry's and Sonjia's gazes bounced between him and Dolley.

“I'll confirm with Abby and Marion so they can warn our guests.” She started to text but looked up again. “Courtyard first?”

“We'll start at eleven.” By that time, most of the guests would be off touring.

He sipped his coffee, watching Dolley. He wished for his camera to take some last pictures of her, but the camera never captured her sparkle. And she wouldn't sparkle now. He'd dimmed her light. He sighed.

She looked over at him.

Her phone pinged, and she read the message. “Marion will put up a sign so you're not interrupted.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“I'll meet you in the courtyard.” She tapped her lip. Lips he wanted to kiss just one more time. “No, I'll start from the upstairs parlor and shoot down at you while you're setting up.”

His feet were moving toward her, before his mind could stop them. “That's a great idea. My balcony has better sight lines. Why don't you start there?”

He knew because he sat out there night after night staring at Dolley's apartment.

He handed her his key card. Their fingers brushed, energy arcing between them with a sizzle.

Her gaze leaped to his. Neither of them moved.

“Dolley,” he whispered. He wasn't sure what he could say. He hated the idea that this might be the last time they touched.

Her cell phone buzzed. She jerked and looked at the readout. “I need to take this.”

She couldn't run out of the room fast enough.

There was his answer.

He would make it easy. He would leave tomorrow.

* * *

D
OLLEY
EXHALED
,
forcing out a shaky breath. Staring into the pain in Liam's eyes had ripped her heart out. She swiped her phone to answer. “Dolley Fitzgerald.”

“Evan Bennett.”

She hurried down the hall and sank into a parlor chair. “How are you?”

“Pleased, very, very pleased. Fantastic work.”

“Thank you.” Her heart should be doing back handsprings. She couldn't dredge up the energy.

“My assistant will send you information so we can get you paid.”

“Thank you.” She couldn't think of anything else to say.

“I'd like to give you another assignment, a little farther afield than your own backyard. I want to see what you can do with both research and photos.”

“I'd like that.”

“Good. Sorry to say, it's still probationary. I want to see more work before we send you out of the country.”

Out of the country. Her body swayed even though she was sitting down.

“I'll give you a choice of assignments this time. What would you prefer? Charleston or St. Augustine?”

“I'd love to explore the oldest city in Florida. St. Augustine, please.” This was really happening. “How long do I have to research and write the article?”

“This time I can give you three weeks. And my assistant will explain the reimbursement policy to you.”

“I can't thank you enough for giving me this chance.”

“You should be thanking Liam. He said you had talent. Even threatened to show your work to one of my competitors.”

“Liam called you?” She choked out the words.

“Oh, shoot.” There was a slap on wood on Evan's side of the conversation. “I wasn't supposed to tell you.”

“No. That's...no.” Liam? “Thank you.”

“Don't be blabbing that I told you.”

“Of course not.” Liam had done this?

“He called, but your work won you the assignment. Don't forget that.”

Somehow she closed out the conversation. Probably said
thank you
another half dozen times before hanging up.

She stared at her phone. Liam. He'd made the call to help her.

Why? What was in it for him?

Helping her with a job in the photography field wouldn't get him what he wanted—her family.

Her mouth dropped open.

What if he had been telling the truth and he did love her? What if it wasn't because he wanted to be part of the Fitzgerald family?

Her stomach twisted like she might be sick. She might have thrown away the only man she'd ever loved.

She had to talk to him. Thank him. And find out why he'd done this.

She ran to their meeting room. Empty. A glance at her phone showed it was a little after eleven.

He was setting up in the courtyard. She took the stairs two at a time, smiling at a new member of the cleaning crew as she flew down the hallway to Liam's room.

Sitting on the end table was one of the pictures he'd taken when they'd made love. Just a close up of her eyes. Her heart pounded a little harder.

She had a job to do. For Liam.

On the balcony she pulled out her camera.

He stood at the edge of one of the flagstone paths Bess had created. Even from here, she could tell that the rock carving of her and her sisters' faces would be in the camera's frame.

Dolley took a series of pictures as Liam and the crew set up.

With a zoom, she focused on Liam's face. Were new lines forming between his eyebrows? He looked as miserable as she felt. What had they done to each other?

She took his picture.
Don't be afraid to show the flaws.
He was flawed. So was she, but she loved him.

She rushed to the courtyard door. She may have made a mess of things, but she had to talk to him.

Bursting out the door, she hurried to where they'd set up. Sonjia turned around, a finger to her lips.

Dolley slowed down, even though she wanted to run.

They'd found that the click of her camera wouldn't be caught if she stood back far enough. She slipped to the side and followed Jerry as he moved with Liam along the paths.

Liam's blue shirt matched his eyes. She loved that shirt. The color mimicked Tybee Bay when the sky was clear and the ocean bright blue. His black hair gleamed in the sunlight.

“This is the house that James and Fiona built,” Liam said.

He told the history of the house, what they'd learned in their research, what they'd pieced together in all their hours together in the attic. Even though she knew what he was saying, had written some of it up for the B and B's website, Liam made it sound fresh and interesting.

He stopped. “I want to run that again.”

She started to move closer, but Liam had already begun to talk.

And it was like that for the next two hours. She tried to catch him. He would dash away or talk to one of the crew. Even when they ate lunch, as soon as she walked toward him, he pulled out his phone.

“I've got to take this,” he said.

His phone hadn't rung.

She walked away, light-headed. He was avoiding her.

“Ready to move to the front porch?” Jerry asked Liam.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Let's finish this.”

Shivers ran down her spine at the finality in his voice.

She stumbled after the crew.

Sonjia bumped her shoulder. “Has documentary making been as exciting as you thought it would be?”

“Exciting?” Dolley thought back over the last three months. “Interesting, maybe. There's an awful lot of waiting around.”

“And Liam works faster than most people.” Sonjia smiled. “Will it be strange when he leaves tomorrow?”

Her heart stopped beating. “But his reservation is through next week.”

“Like I said, he works fast.”

He heart jolted. Liam was leaving?

* * *

T
HIS
WAS
MISERY
. Liam avoided Dolley, but she kept trying to talk to him. Being around her was torture.

One more take. If he could do this in one take, he would be free.

Free to be miserable away from Dolley.

“You haven't given me this script to review.” Sonjia came around the corner with Dolley.

“I know what I want,” he said.

He'd planned to stand at the foot of the B and B's stairs, but he couldn't. Pain radiated from the cracks in his heart.

He lowered himself to the top step. He would do this sitting down.

“That looks good,” Jerry called out.

Sonjia dusted him with a little powder. “You look perfect except for the circles under your eyes.”

“Not much I can do about that now.” He shot a glance at Dolley, but she was taking the lens cover off her camera.

“You sure you don't want me to review the script?”

“I'm good.”

Tom shifted the mic into place. Sonjia stepped out of the frame. Jerry counted down.

“...Three, two and go,” Jerry mouthed.

“Why did I start this project?” Liam looked into the lens of the camera. “It started with the death of my godfather, Seamus FitzGerald. He'd found the Savannah branch of the Fitzgerald family. I was instructed to bring letters from the 1830s between James and Michael FitzGerald to his Savannah relatives.”

He smiled. “I wasn't thrilled doing my godfather's bidding. They weren't my relatives.

“But I looked up the family and discovered their B and B. And found them—engaging. Intriguing. And the idea of doing a documentary on Savannah's Irish was born.”

He walked down the sidewalk and pointed to the Irish flags hanging from the pillars. “The family still celebrates their Irish roots. And if you were lucky enough to be a guest in their B and B for the holiday, you were treated to magnificent Irish food, a glorious surrounding, hospitality and comfort.”

He tucked a hand in his pocket, moving back up to the steps. “I thought this would be a story of the haves and have-nots. James and Fiona FitzGerald came here with money and built a successful shipping business. Most immigrants escaping the potato famine had to scrape together the coin for their trip to America. And with the mass exodus from Ireland, they were not welcomed with open arms.

“But that wasn't the case with James and Fiona.” He waved his hand at the mansion. “They built this beautiful home, and when their countrymen and women filled the town, they hired them. Gave them meaningful jobs. Fiona's entire staff were immigrants. James hired his countrymen to work in his warehouses, man his ships and care for his properties.”

He sat again. “Their descendants welcomed me, even invited me to share their Christmas holidays with them. Their kindness was unexpected and appreciated.

“The three sisters who run Fitzgerald House have done so with generosity and grace. They've shown me what it is to be a family.” His gaze homed in on Dolley. “And in the three months I've stayed here, they made me feel at home.

“That is how I came to be here at Fitzgerald House. And it was the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He touched his heart. “I will never forget.”

His sight wavered, tears filling his eyes. He signaled
cut
, unable to choke out any more words.

He was done.

* * *

D
OLLEY
ZOOMED
IN
on the tears on Liam's face. How could he say such nice things about her when she'd been so cruel? Dolley sank onto a bench on the front lawn, wiping away her own tears.

Fitzgerald House had always been a golden shackle around her ankles, keeping her here against her will. But seeing the B and B and her sisters through his eyes was a wake-up call.

It wasn't a weakness to have lived in the same town all her life. Traveling didn't mean she would be a better person. It was the way you treated others that brought happiness.

She brushed at another stream of tears.

“Are you all right?” Sonjia asked, touching her shoulder.

“Liam just...he made me see my family and the B and B in a different light.”

“He can do that, can't he? Must be his photographer's insight, sees right through to the truth.” Sonjia handed her a tissue. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Dolley wiped her face and stood. She had to talk to Liam. Had to...

He wasn't on the porch.

Jerry packed up the camera. Tom, the cords and microphone.

“Where's Liam?” she asked.

Jerry looked up. “He wanted a few more pictures before he left.”

He was gone? “Where?”

Tom looked over. “Probably that cemetery. Bona—” He waved his hand.

“Bonaventure?”

“That's it.” Tom nodded. “I sure don't understand his fascination with the place. It's creepy.”

“Thanks.” She dashed to her car, pulling out her keys. Tossing her camera and bag on the passenger seat, she raced to find him.

And ran into streets clogged with holiday visitors. “Let me through.”

Every person acted like they had all the time in the world. She rapped her fingers against the steering wheel, inching her car into the crosswalk. Finally there was a break in the crowd. She hit the gas, her tires squealing.

At Bonaventure, his rental car was in the lot. “Thank goodness.”

In the cemetery, visitors strolled through the avenues. Guides led their tours through the plots. Where would Liam go?

Corrine's statue. She ran down the avenue. A stitch drilled into her side.

He wasn't in front of the Lawton family plot. She took in deep gasps of breath. Where now?

She fought her way through the crowds crammed in front of Johnny Mercer's plot. “Excuse me.”

Not here. What if she missed him?

Gracie's plot.

Pushing through the tourists was like swimming downstream against migrating salmon. “I can't miss him,” she muttered.

An elderly couple gave her a look like she might be talking to the spirits.

“I'm trying to find someone,” she explained. “It's important. He's important.”

The couple clasped each other's hands and gave her as wide a berth as possible.

Black hair bobbed in the distance. She skirted a tour group ambling down the path. “Liam!”