Through a Magnolia Filter (7 page)

She nodded.

He pulled out his camera, squatted, angling his body, and waited. The branch swung in the slight breeze and dropped into the frame. Click.

In the next picture he refocused on the bars, giving the photo an ominous feel.

“Depending on whether you're going for eerie or happy, I'd suggest using black and white or color.” He handed Dolley his camera. “Especially if the branches behind Gracie flower.”

She scrolled through the ones he'd taken. “Your pictures are—sad. Bleak.”

“Good. I was thinking desolate. It would come across better in black and white.”

Her auburn eyebrows snapped together, shadowing her lovely green eyes. “Yes.”

“All great photographs evoke emotions, even when you're looking at a landscape or cityscape.”

She looked up at him and sighed. “I have a lot to learn.”

“You just have to put your soul into your photos.”

“That's all.” Her eyes twinkled as she handed back his camera. Their fingers brushed. He pulled away, but he'd felt—something.

“Come on.” She replaced her lens cap and slung the camera over her shoulder. “There's more to see.”

Dolley kept up a stream of interesting facts, talking about the cemetery and graves they passed and the statues created for the interred Savannahians.

When she talked about bodies that had been moved from another cemetery, he finally asked, “How do you retain all this information?”

“I...just remember things.” She wouldn't look him in the eye.

He pulled her to a stop and made her face him, holding her hand so she didn't escape. “You have a photographic memory.”

She stared at their dusty shoes. “Not quite.”

“This is fantastic.” He thought of all the notes he had to take to retain everything she stored easily in her brain. “Do you remember my credit card number?”

“No!” She tried to pull her hand away. “I make sure I don't.”

“What do you remember of my particulars?” He was really curious.

She bit her lower lip, changing the color from pink to red. “Your phone number.” She rattled it off. And then added his address and the date he'd first called. “It's kind of a pain.”

“I wish I had your memory.” He slung an arm around her shoulder. “Maybe I need to change your job title to fact checker.”

“I don't think so.” She nudged his arm away. “I'm hoping you'll teach me how to be a better photographer.”

Either she didn't like to be touched or didn't like
him
touching her. He forced a professorial tone into his voice. “And your first lesson was emotions.”

“You want emotions? Let me show you Corrine.”

She led him toward a river.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“The Wilmington River. This is where my great-grandmamma would picnic.”

She stopped in front of a large plot.
Lawton.
The statue was a beautiful woman sitting in front of her headstone. “Corrine was in love with a man who was not of her class. Her family insisted she marry a man she did not love.”

He checked the date of her death, 1877. There would have been class issues at that time.

“The day of her wedding she rode to the Savannah River and drowned herself.” She raised a graceful hand, pointing to the statue of Jesus at the back of the plot. “Her family was so upset, they buried her with her back to Jesus.”

“How sad.”

She grinned. “It's a ghost teller's story. Corrine wasn't engaged. Her parents weren't forcing her to marry. Based on letters and her obituary, she was ill, possibly yellow fever since Savannah had an epidemic that started in 1876 and continued into 1877. The statue was carved in Sicily.”

She bumped her shoulder into his chest. “I told you the fake story because I want you to be aware that the tales told in our fine city are not always the truth.”

Dolley pulled the lens cap off her camera. “She's my favorite statue.”

Liam moved next to her, trying to see what she was framing. In the distance, faint streams of lavender and pink threaded through the clouds. He pulled his camera up to his eye. Would the sunset be too far away?

Dolley waited. And waited. Finally, the sky flooded with color. Her camera clicked away. It was a joy to watch her concentration.

He knelt behind her, wanting to see what she'd done.

Pulling the camera away from her eye, she replayed her photos, tipping it so he could look over her shoulder.

The statue was swathed by the soft sunset as if Corrine were an angel caught in the clouds.

“Peace,” he whispered. “I feel it.”

“Yes.” She stared into his eyes. “That's what I wanted.”

Dolley was talented
and
took direction.

But Kieran had been talented, too. Kieran's problem had been insatiable ambition.

A fiery curl blew across Dolley's eyes. He brushed it away, but his fingers lingered, fingering the silky texture.

Her green eyes grew as big as saucers.

A cart drove up next to them. “Cemetery's closing, folks.”

He yanked his hand away as she jumped up.

“I lost track of the time.” Dolley stuffed her camera in her bag, her actions clumsy with haste. “I'm sorry. It's after five? Really?”

“Well past,” the guard said. “Hop in.”

Shoving her hair off her face, she took the passenger seat, leaving him the backseat. She stared straight ahead.

Fingering Dolley's silky hair had been feckin' stupid.

“I'll be your mentor,” he blurted out. He wanted to spend more time with her.

She turned, a frown plowing a furrow in her forehead. “You will?”

He nodded.

A grin ignited her face. “Thank you.”

His motives for helping Dolley mixed with a budding awareness of her as an interesting, exciting woman.

Of course, they might be working together for months.

He would button up this...attraction and concentrate on improving her skills. For now.

CHAPTER FOUR

It is more important to click with people than to click the shutter.

Alfred Eisenstaedt

D
OLLEY
HANDED
THE
clean porcelain wall sconce to Bess. “This one has a chip.”

Bess turned the sconce, found the chip and dabbed enamel on the spot. “Not anymore.”

“I hate cleaning lights.” Dolley picked up a rusty sconce and plopped it on the worktable she and Bess had set up in the carriage house.

This mindless work wasn't enough to keep her from reliving the moment two days ago when Liam had brushed back her hair at Bonaventure. His fingers had rubbed the strands like they were...precious. Was the pull she'd felt between them the reason he'd agreed to mentor her?

She'd almost reached out and touched
his
hair. Thank goodness the cemetery guard had arrived.

There was too much at stake. She was sticking to her dating hiatus. She'd given up her day job to work with Liam. Just spending an afternoon together had improved her pictures. He could take it away as easily as he'd agreed to work with her. Nothing was going to screw up her apprenticeship.

Dolley shot a glance at Bess. She needed to break the news to her sisters. Not only was she working for Liam, Jackson had changed her employment status. She blew out a big breath. Already this morning, she'd bid on a project for one of her old clients. That sucked.

With a toothbrush, she loosened the dirt around the base and metalwork. “How many more do we have to clean?”

Bess glanced at the boxes. “I don't want to depress you.”

“Great.” Dolley dipped her cloth in the soapy water and rubbed gently on the bronze fixture. “Should we take off the patina?”

They both stared at the sconce.

“Mamma had us strip all the Fitzgerald House's lamps.” Bess chewed on her thumbnail.

Dolley touched her hand. “Let's find out if we have more metal or porcelain.”

They spread everything on the floor, organizing the lamps by type.

Crossing her arms, Dolley said, “Holy cow, that's a lot of work.”

“Abby's just finishing up breakfast. She'll be here soon.” Bess walked around the lamps and sconces laid out on the canvas. “I would like to have everything bright and shiny.”

Dolley sighed. “Okay, we remove the patina just like Fitzgerald House.”

“How come you're not working today?” Bess settled back into her folding chair.

“I've cut back my hours.” She opened the bronze cleaner, the smell sharp and unpleasant. Pouring a small amount on a clean cloth, she gently rubbed the metal.

Bess frowned. “I thought you planned to wait until January.”

Dolley's finger tapped the edge of the table. “I'm helping out Liam. Delaney,” she added in a rush. Just saying his name had her remembering the stroke of his fingers in her hair.

“Delaney?” Bess's reddish-blond eyebrows popped up. “Is he the long-term guest? The Irishman?”

“Yup.”

“How are you helping him out?”

She focused on bringing the lamp back to its original gleam. “Research. And he agreed to take me on as an apprentice.” The words spilled out in a stream.

“Wait.” Bess laid her hand on Dolley's arm. “Apprentice?”

Abby walked in. “You're taking on an apprentice, Bess?”

Dolley rolled her eyes. Of course an apprenticeship wouldn't be about her, right? She was void of creativity.

“It's Dolley,” Bess explained.

Abby pulled out a chair next to Dolley. “I didn't know they used apprentices in website design. Is that a new thing?”

“It's not for website design.” Dolley huffed out a breath. “Liam Delaney is mentoring me in photography.”

Both sisters' heads twisted, and they stared at her. Their eyes, variations of green and hazel, were wide with surprise.

Their shock hurt.

Abby placed a hand on her back. “You want to be his apprentice?”

“I want to improve my photography,” she said.

Bess rubbed Dolley's arm. “Is this just for the website?”

Her sisters, the two people she was closest to in the world, didn't know she wanted to be a photographer. She swallowed. “I want to be...better.”
I want to make it my career.

“Then it's good Liam is here.” Abby bumped her with her shoulder. “And he's not bad on the eyes. Does he ever smile?”

Dolley frowned. “Not often. Once? That I caught.” And she'd never heard him laugh.

Did that make him romantically tragic, or just tragic?

She took a deep breath. “And I added myself to the B and B's health plan.”

Abby grabbed a sconce. “Why?”

Dolley shrugged. “Jackson made me an independent contractor.”

“Oh.” Abby's eyebrow went up. Censure filled that single syllable.

“Cheryl raves about Liam's accent.” Bess winked.

Dolley pressed her chest. “I could listen to him for hours.”

“Oh. Ooooh.” Bess drew out the last word, pain twisting her face. “Be careful.”

“It's not like that.” Dolley hated the sorrow in her sister's eyes. Daniel Forester had done that. He and Bess had dated, but Daniel had pulled the plug and broken Bess's heart.

“This is purely professional,” Dolley added. “Besides, I'm on a dating hiatus.”

She should tell her sisters she wanted a new career. Dolley bit her lip. A career change that involved travel would affect the B and B and her family.

Staying in Savannah wasn't in her future, but she wasn't ready to break that news to her sisters. “Liam's helping me improve my pictures.”

“If you're his apprentice, why aren't you with him today?” Abby asked.

“It's part-time. He's in Statesboro. Georgia Southern has an Irish Studies program, and he's interviewing the department head.”

“I do have homework.” She pushed away from the desk and dug out her camera. Her assignment was to take pictures of people, inanimate objects and scenery. “I feel like I'm back in school.”

“You always loved school,” Abby said.

“I can also use the shots for the B and B's blog.” Standing on the opposite side of the table, she said, “Work, slaves.”

Her sisters laughed.

Dolley snapped a series, hoping to capture camaraderie and joy. Then she arranged the sconce she'd polished behind all the dirty lamps. Hope was what she wanted to capture, shining through the tarnished wasteland.

“Our last long-term guest was pretty fantastic.” Abby flashed her ring. “Liam is here through next year. I wonder what will develop.”

“And if it will be in black and white or Technicolor,” Bess said.

“I
shutter
to think,” Abby replied.

“Good one!” Bess fist-bumped Abby.

“You two should take this act on the road.” Dolley rolled her eyes, but she smiled as she cleaned tarnish. She'd told her sisters about the apprenticeship. Her loss of income could wait until she had a plan to replace the income or reduce her expenses.

* * *

T
HE
SUN
WAS
setting as Liam parked at the B and B. He pulled his equipment out of the car, tugging on his overcoat. He'd made it back in time to catch the wine tasting. Then he planned to head to his room and review the tapes.

“Hi.” Dolley came out of a carriage house. “How was the interview?”

Her smile warmed him more than his jacket.

“The professor was great.” Professor Aiden had highlighted how different the FitzGerald immigration to America was compared to others. James had come with money. The men who had built canals and railroads had come with little more than the clothes on their backs. His breath caught in his chest. This was the core of his story. The difference between Dolley's family and the poor immigrants Aiden had described.

Dolley hopped up on an iron table, her legs swinging. “Good info?”

“Fantastic stuff, but the poor man was nervous.”

Her eyes glittered like polished emeralds as if she had joy bubbling inside her. Something fluttered in his chest. What would that feel like? He knew peace when a photo turned out exactly the way he'd planned, but joy? His had died with his parents.

“So, did you have techniques to help him?” she asked.

“Some.” She smelled of—silver polish? “What have
you
been up to?”

“Cleaning old lamps.” She rolled her eyes. “My least favorite job of a restoration.”

“Ahh.” He sniffed. “You smell of metal cleaner.”

“It's gross.” Even in the dimming light, he could see her blush. “I'm heading home to scrub off the stench.”

An image of her in the shower, soap lather streaming down her naked body, had him taking in a sharp breath.

“The smell isn't so bad,” he choked out. “Actually reminds me of helping clean my mum's tea trolley.”

“That's a nice memory.” She hopped off the table. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“Trying to catch some of your sister's offerings, and then I'll review today's film.”

“You need to see Savannah.” She touched his shoulder, the heat seeping through his coat. “I'm meeting friends at a pub. Do you want to tag along?”

He should say
no
. But sitting in his empty room sounded lonely.

“It's just friends getting together.” When she grinned, her curls danced. “I'll tell them they can't mob you.”

“Oh, well—” He should work.

“It'll be fun.”

Fun? He couldn't remember the last time his name and
fun
were mentioned together. “What time?”

* * *

T
HE
WALL
OF
noise enveloped Dolley as she and Liam entered O'Gara's pub. The yeasty scent of beer and fried food hit her along with the heat. Lights twinkled above the bar, and glittering snowflakes hung at intervals from the ceiling.

“Fantastic.” She bounced onto her toes. “I didn't think it would be this busy.”

Liam's eyes had glazed over, his face frozen in a resigned grimace.

“Smile,” she insisted.

He didn't.

Tonight she wanted to see him smile at least five times. A happier man would be a better teacher.

“Do you want people to know what you're doing in Savannah?” She leaned close so he could hear her. Close enough to catch his crazy scent that made her insides melt.

“Yes, that's all right.” He rubbed his chin, and his seven o'clock shadow rasped under his hand. “Is the pub always so loud?”

“It's a holiday.” She tugged his arm. “This way to the fun.”

He followed, dragging behind her a little. What was up with that?

“Dolley!” Zach picked her up by the waist and spun her in a circle.

She pounded his shoulders. “Put me down.”

He dropped her to her feet and gave her a smacking kiss. “Merry Christmas.”

She patted his cheek. They'd dated years ago when Zach had needed help on a paper, but Zach had been right. They were better as friends. “Merry Christmas to you.”

Liam hung behind, a frown pushing his sharp black eyebrows together. She towed him to a table filled with people.
The more the merrier, right?

“Gang, this is Liam. He's staying at Fitzgerald House through March.” She introduced the people she knew; others filled in their names. “He's making a documentary.”

If that didn't get people talking to him, she didn't know what would.

Chairs were dragged to the table. Liam slipped along the wall, sitting next to a pretty blonde. He wasn't frowning, but he wasn't smiling, either.

Dolley took a spot closer to the middle of the table. She could watch his face but couldn't hear what he and the blonde were saying. Her chest squeezed a little, but she pushed it away. He was her teacher, and she was on a hiatus.

“How are things?” she asked Zach.

“Pretty damn good.” He wrapped an arm around the brunette sitting next to him. “Meet Erica.”

Erica smiled. “Hi, Dolley.”

After chatting with Erica for a while, she leaned in to Zach. “She's perfect for you.”

“I know.” He grinned and pressed a kiss to his girlfriend's cheek.

Zach's grin reminded her of tonight's objective. Get Liam to smile.

She looked down the table, and Liam was staring—at Zach and Erica.

When the server came over, she ordered a martini called Santa's Jollies. Might as well get in the Christmas mood.

Her drink arrived, and she held it up, giving Liam a silent toast. He saluted her with his beer. And smiled. Number one. She wracked it up on her mental spreadsheet.

The blonde leaned in and pointed at his beer. Liam nodded as he responded to her.

“Zach,” she asked. “Who's the girl at the end of the table?”

He looked over. “Shana?”

“Right.”

“You should worry about your friend.” Zach leaned closer. “She just jettisoned her last boyfriend and is looking for a new conquest.”

Shana pointed to the dance floor, tugging on Liam's arm.

Dolley's throat constricted. Would he dance?

He shook his head, and the blonde pouted.

Dolley was stupidly relieved.

Liam tipped his chair back, resting against the wall. Mamma would scold him for balancing on two legs, but it gave her an opportunity to admire his lean form. The man made black jeans look like a work of art. With his black hair and bright blue eyes, he was striking.

She sighed. Not for her. But he sure was easy on the eyes. She stared for a minute, frowning. He wasn't—engaged. He talked to people next to him, but he didn't lean in like he was part of the conversation. It was like he was a spectator.

The band changed to playing fifties music, happy songs. The walking bass had her toes tapping.