Through a Magnolia Filter (8 page)

A friend she hadn't seen in a couple of years touched her shoulder. “Dolley, how are you?”

“Brad?” She gave him a hug. “I'm great. And you?”

They yelled over the sound, trying to catch up. Finally Brad rolled his eyes. “It's impossible to talk. Let's dance.”

“Sure.”

She checked on Liam. He was frowning again. She tried to give him head signals, suggesting he ask someone to dance, but he apparently couldn't read Savannah sign language.

Maybe she'd have to ask him to dance. A little jolt went through her. What would his arms feel like holding her?

Nope. Being held by Liam wasn't her objective. She wanted to ease the solemn look off his face and have him participate in the evening. Was that too much to ask when she threw strangers together? He needed to smile four more times. Maybe if he asked Shana to dance, she could accomplish that.

And maybe he would go home with Shana.

She stumbled.

Brad tugged her into the familiar steps of the Lindy. She let the music and Brad spin her into a happy place.

She and Brad had learned how to Lindy from his parents. They'd dated once, but as usual, they'd decided they were better off as friends. Her dating history was pathetic.

Brad pushed her out so their arms extended, then he tugged and she spun back to him. They rocked back and forth to “Rock Around the Clock
.
”

They settled into the setup of their signature move. Brad grabbed her by the waist, and she swung her legs from one of his hips to the other.

“Do the flip?” he mouthed.

She shook her head. “No!”

They were laughing as the music ended, and he spun her into his arms once more.

“That was great,” Brad gasped.

Dolley twirled around. “I loved it.”

“Thanks.” He walked her back to the table. “Nothing like reliving our youth, but I'll be stiff tomorrow.”

They talked for a few more minutes, then the people at Brad's table waved him back.

“You looked good out there,” Zach said.

“You should dance with your girl.”

“I'm holding out for a slow song.” The band finished a song to applause and then broke into a ballad. Zach grabbed his date's hand. “That's my cue.”

Dolley grinned as they moved to the dance floor. They looked good together. She took a swig of her drink. Damn. It was gone. She caught the server's eye, and the woman gave her a nod.

“I'm going to have to call you twinkle toes.” Liam's deep voice above her head rumbled through her core. He sank into the chair next to her, smiling. There was number two. Only three more to go.

“Abby has the twinkle toes in the family.” Dolley bopped her head to the music. “She used to dance.”

“You could have fooled me.” He set his half-drunk beer next to her empty glass. “Can I get you another?”

“I just gave the server the high sign.” She twirled the empty martini glass, not looking at him. “You should ask Shana to dance.”

“What? No.” He was shaking his head when she looked up.

“You should.” She bumped his shoulder. “Have a little fun.”

One elegant black eyebrow arched over his amazing blue eyes. “I'm here to work.”

“You can't work 24/7.”

He blinked, then frowned.

“You work every waking hour, don't you?” she asked, appalled.

“I...” he rubbed his head. “Sometimes it's easier. I'm more comfortable working.”

“That has to change.” She spun in the chair, her knees touching his thigh. “Since you're teaching me about photography, I'm going to teach you how to lighten up. You're now
my
apprentice in the world of having fun.”

“What?”

“I'll teach you how to have fun.” She nodded. “You might even get assignments.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Oh, yes, I would.” She grinned.

“You're having fun.” He waved a hand around the room. “How do you know all these people?”

Who had she talked to? “Brad and I went to high school together.”

“To dance the way you did, you must have dated.” His eyes held hers.

“One date.” She picked up her glass, but it was still empty. “We discovered we're better as friends.”

“And this man?” He pointed to the chair he was sitting in.

“We went to college together. That lasted two dates.” Two dates. One paper. And then he'd avoided her for almost a year.

“What's wrong with men in this country?”

She shrugged. It wasn't the men. It was her.

She didn't let Liam ask any more questions. Just grabbed his hand, tugged him out of the chair and onto the dance floor. “First homework...dancing.”

“I'm not very good,” he warned, his breath warming her neck as he made himself heard above the noise. “I can't do what you were doing with that other man.”

“Doesn't matter.” The band now played “Blue Suede Shoes.” “Just let your body feel the music.”

He moved his shoulders and wiggled his lean hips.

She nodded and rocked away.

And he smiled. Number three. Only two to go.

He moved closer. She could teach him some steps, but the goal was to get him to ask other women to dance, help him break out of his shell. He had nice rhythm and great hip action. Unwanted heat zipped through her body.

The music changed to a ballad. She turned to leave.

This time, Liam caught her hand and reeled her in. “Not so fast.”

His arms settled on her lower back. Hers slid up and rested on his shoulders.
Too close.
But she didn't ease away. It was his darn cologne. It had her getting closer, sniffing his neck.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“You smell so good.”

He chuckled. She hated the heat filling her face.

He looked down at her. And smiled. Number four.

She grinned up at him. “Let's talk about your homework.”

* * *

L
IAM
ALLOWED
HIMSELF
one slow dance with Dolley. It was like holding lightning in his arms.

He finished off his pint and watched as she flitted around the pub. She must have known half the people in the room. And each encounter left her more animated. Even if he were in Galway, he wouldn't know as many people as she'd talked to this night. And he wouldn't want to talk to all of them in one evening.

He and Dolley were opposites. He thrived in solitude, she flourished in crowds. Just one more reason to keep his hands off his apprentice.

And anyway, he should be in his room taking notes on the professor's interview. Alone.

He liked being alone. He liked listening to people talk. But sometimes he was tired of always feeling like he was looking through the window at other people's happiness.

Her offer to let him be
her
apprentice in learning how to have fun could be viewed as a gift. She might teach him something after all. But she'd told him to mingle. He wasn't a mingler.

He would never have what she had. Never know the wonder of having a family to hold him up, to help him through the pains and joys of life. He was better off staying on his own. No one could disappoint him. No one could ignore him.

He checked his watch. Time to head back to the B and B.

Dolley hurried over, her curls bouncing as she stopped next to his chair. “You're doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Being an island.” She leaned closer. “You need to do your homework.”

“I mingled.” For a while.

“You let other people talk.” She shook her head. “You listened.”

“Being a good listener is part of my profession.” He stood. “I'm heading back to Fitzgerald House.”

Her smile crumpled. “Let me say a few goodbyes.”

“Stay. You're having fun.”

“And you're not.” She sighed. “I'll be right back.”

He nodded and waved at the people he'd spent the night listening to. Dolley was right on that point.

“Hope to see you again, Liam,” Shana called out.

“Me, too,” he lied.

Tugging on his jacket, he headed outside. The cool air scented by the nearby river was lovely. He inhaled, letting his body relax.

The cobblestone street reflected the streetlights and neon spilling from the bars and buildings. A mist softly diffused the light. His fingers flexed, wishing he'd brought a camera. He was afraid of the emotion he'd want to evoke. Solitude? Isolation?

Laughter echoed from a nearby street.

The door jingled, and Dolley walked out, looking around. She spotted him, and her frown disappeared. “There you are.”

He nodded.

“Did you at least have fun?” She wrapped her multicolored scarf around her neck. The heels of her boots clacked on the sidewalk as she approached.

“Watching you was fun.”

She shook her head. “That's not the same as
you
having fun.”

“It worked for me.” They turned toward the B and B.

She wobbled on the uneven pavement, and he cupped her elbow.

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” He smiled.

“Ahh, number five. Goal accomplished.”

He stopped. “Number five?”

“I should not have said that. Too many drinks.” She slapped a hand on her mouth.

“Now I'm curious.” He pulled her hand away from her mouth. He shouldn't touch her, but he couldn't stop himself.

“You smiled five times tonight.” Her eyebrows popped up. “That I caught. I'm sure you smiled more than that.”

“You counted my smiles?”

“You frown a lot.” She winced. “I wanted to help you smile.”

“No wonder they've been aching.” He rubbed his cheeks. “Five times in a night. Must be a new record.”

“Sorry.” She bumped against him as they started walking again. “I shouldn't have said anything.”

“No.” What an odd creature she was. And she was holding a mirror up to his moods. He'd only smiled five times. What did that say about him?

She looked sideways, mischief creasing her face. “Smiling is good for a person. Healthy. You'll live longer.”

“Then you'll live well into your hundreds.”

“Oh. That's nice.”

He wasn't sure he'd meant it as a compliment. “How can one person have so much to smile about?”

Her shoulders straightened. “You can go through life moaning about the cards you've been dealt, or you can make lemonade with the lemons that have been piled on you.”

He shook his head. “Mixed metaphors explain why you're always so happy?”

She crossed her arms around her waist. “Maybe.”

“I wasn't making fun of you.” He touched her shoulder, and she faced him. “I envy you.”

They were standing too close, but he didn't want to step away. Her energy was like a magnet. He caught that warm scent that was all Dolley. His hand cupped her face. Despite them being polar opposites, he wanted to press his lips to that pink, sweet mouth.

Dolley swayed, her eyes half-closed. Then her eyes jerked open. She stumbled back. “No.”

“Sorry.” He took a step back, his hands in the air. “I thought...” She'd invited him to meet her chums, not to kiss her.

“No. No problem.” Her voice was clipped.

He swallowed back another apology.

“This is where I leave you,” Dolley said, her tone brisk. “Can you find the B and B from here?”

“Aye.” The answer croaked out.

“What time shall we get together tomorrow?”

“Let's say one.” He needed time to settle, time to tuck away any attraction he mistakenly thought they were both feeling. Pity.

CHAPTER FIVE

If I could tell the story in words, I wouldn't need to lug around a camera.

Lewis Wickes Hine

“L
ET
ME
HELP
with that.” Liam moved into the library and picked up a chafing dish from the trolley, setting it on the base.

“Thanks.” Bess placed another dish on an empty holder and slipped a platter of smoked salmon and crackers on the large table. “The way you keep helping out, we might have to put you on the payroll.”

“So long as I don't have to clean the loos.” He placed another big server on a waiting base. “Do you want me to light the flames?”

“I'll get that.” Bess glanced at the line forming behind him. “Yikes. Would you mind opening wine?”

“No problem.” He liked being useful. Liked feeling as though he was part of the flow of Fitzgerald House. Liked pretending he
was
a Fitzgerald.

“What's tonight's theme?” He hadn't checked the cards Abby always prepared.

“The United Kingdoms.”

Liam caught the scent of mulled wine from the tureen on the wine table. Then he read the label on the bottle. “I didn't know they had enough wineries to ship overseas.”

“Abby's distributor loves to find wines for her.” Bess whisked off the covers and displayed sausage rolls, stuffed mushrooms and shepherd's pie.

“This is a feast.” He pulled the cork on a sparkling wine from Cornwall. Then one of a Sangiovese from Ireland. “This seems—bigger than normal.”

“It's the last meal before our break.” Bess opened more bottles.

“I forgot everyone will be leaving.” As much as he liked his solitude, he would miss the camaraderie of his mornings and evenings with the Fitzgerald House guests, listening to their stories.

“You'll have the place to yourself tomorrow.” Bess poured a few glasses of sparkling wine and took one for herself. “This is pretty good.”

“I remember my mum making mulled wine for Da.” Liam took a mug and filled it, inhaling the spicy scent, and sipped. “This is lovely.”

“So why aren't you celebrating the holidays with them?” Bess asked.

His back stiffened. “They died when I was little.”

“I'm sorry.” She rubbed her hand on his shoulder. “You must miss them.”

“I do.” He nodded, his eyes welling up a little. “I ended up with my godfather, who knew nothing about kids.”

“That must have been hard.”

He didn't want to talk about his childhood. “Abby says your mum is coming in today.”

“She's here.” Bess's eyes glowed. “She'll be down for the tasting soon.”

“I can't wait to meet her.” The sisters spoke with such affection about their mum. He'd decided the letters would go to the head of the Fitzgerald family.

“Can you keep your eye on things?” Bess asked. “I'll take the trolley back to the kitchen. Then I have to check on a problem in my greenhouse.”

“Of course.”

He gathered some goodies and stood next to a couple celebrating their fortieth anniversary. “How was your day?”

“We went to the cemetery like you suggested,” said the wife.

“Our guide was great,” the man said.

Probably not as good as Dolley. The couple talked about the statuary and family plots.

And he thought about Dolley. They worked together every other day, very businesslike on both sides. But sometimes he swore sparks arced between their bodies. A magnetism that wanted satisfaction.

He didn't feel the same thing from Bess. She was—fragile. For some reason, he wanted to protect her from harm.

Dolley was the Fitzgerald who made him sit up and take notice.

“Did the guide take you to Gracie's statue?” he asked when there was a lull in the conversation.

The wife shivered. “Our guide made me believe her ghost actually played with children.”

The flame under a chafing dish sputtered out. “Let me just check that,” Liam said. He replaced the Sterno container and relit the flame.

Straightening, he nodded to the woman standing across the buffet from him. Her hair was sunset bright like her daughters, and her eyes were a paler green. “You must be Mrs. Fitzgerald.”

“Mrs. Robbins.” She raised her eyebrows. “You're our Irishman?”

“Aye.” He held out his hand. “Liam Delaney.”

“Mamie Fitzgerald Robbins.” Her hand was soft but strong. Like Dolley's.

He moved away from the back of the buffet. “I've looked forward to meeting you.”

“Let me taste Abby's food, and we can get to know each other.”

“I'll get you something to drink. What do you fancy?” he asked.

She tapped her lip. “The mulled wine. Abby adds something to it that she won't share with her own mother.”

He laughed, poured her a mug and topped his off. Shifting two armchairs so they had some privacy, he took a seat and waited.

Mamie glided to the chair he'd set up. She and Abby moved the same way.

He stood as she seated herself, feeling oddly formal.

“Oh, sit.” Mamie waved him down. “Tell me about your documentary.”

“Let me first say, you are as lovely as your daughters.”

Her smile brightened. “Thank you.”

He took in a deep breath. “My godfather was a descendant of Michael Fitzgerald, your ancestor James's brother.”

Mamie tipped her head. “That's an interesting coincidence.”

“No coincidence. After Seamus, my godfather, died, his solicitor showed me the family-tree information Seamus had been working on.”

Mamie leaned forward. “Are there cousins still living in Ireland?”

He shook his head. “Not that Seamus found.”

“How did you come to live with...?”

“Seamus FitzGerald.” He swallowed. “My parents had named him and his wife godparents. When my parents died in a car accident, Seamus's wife was already dead. Seamus took me in.”

Mamie touched his knee. “How old were you?”

“Eight.” He spit the word out like it was bitter.

“I'm sorry.” She patted his arm. “My girls were young when they lost their father.”

He'd never thought about Dolley losing her father. She seemed so grounded in her family. “You must have done a wonderful job raising your daughters. I can't see any ill effects from you being their only parent.”

“You say the sweetest things.” Her drawl drew out the vowels as if they were separate syllables.

He wanted to tape her with her daughters. Wanted that soft, strong voice recorded.

“Tell me how you go from looking at a family tree to spending months in Savannah?” she asked.

“Seamus's research intrigued me. I was looking for a new project. The more I dug, the more I thought there was a story in all the Irish in Savannah.” He talked more about the project, how it would include a book of his photographs.

She asked questions, and he relaxed into his answers. “Give me a minute. I promised Bess I would keep an eye out, and it looks like I should open more wine.”

She nodded like she was a queen.

And she was. Queen of her family. The B and B literature all described how she'd turned the house into a B and B.

“You fit in nicely.” Mamie rose. “I think I'll check in with the other guests. Do you have dinner plans?”

“Oh.” Grabbing a plate of whatever remained on the buffet and taking it to his room to work. “Not really.”

“Abby's making Beef Wellington. Since you're practically family in a roundabout southern way, you'll join us.” She gave a sharp nod.

Before he could disagree, she'd gone to a group of guests standing near the fire.

He grinned so large, Dolley would need to count it as two smiles.

What a grand expression—
practically family.

* * *

D
OLLEY
PUSHED
THROUGH
the courtyard door into the kitchen. “Hey, Abby, where's Mamma?”

Abby pointed to the sitting area.

Mamma was already moving toward her. “Right here, dear.”

Dolley threw herself into her mother's embrace, Mamma's perfume filling her nose. “I'm so glad you're back.”

“I missed you, too.” Mamma took her face in her hands and kissed her. “I've caught up with Abby and Bess. Tell me what you've been up to.”

“Busy. Very busy.” Had her sisters mentioned she worked with Liam? After talking about the blog and the B and B, she said, “I cut back my hours with Jackson.”

“Did I hear you're working with Liam?” Mamma asked.

“I've been helping him with his research and touring Savannah with him. Between that and Carleton House coming online, I'm almost staying out of trouble.”

“He's a nice young man.” Mamma took a sip of her wine.

Nice
was not the adjective Dolley would use. Hot. Sexy. Tantalizing, maybe. Not that she would suggest those to Mamma.

It was warm near the fire. She wished she had a glass of something to cool her down. “Do you want me to top that off?” she asked, pointing to Mamma's flute.

“I'm good.”

“I'll be right back.” She peeked over Abby's shoulder. “Something smells great in here.”

“Beef Wellington.”

“Awesome. Want anything to drink from the tasting?”

“I'll try the Brut. Bring back a bottle, would you?”

Dolley nodded. She grabbed two flutes and an unopened bottle, barely stopping. Then she kept a smile on her face for the guests as she headed back to the kitchen.

Liam came down the hallway.

She was always surprised to find guests in the area she thought of as
family territory.

“Need help?” he asked.

“I've got it.” She backed into the swinging door, but Liam pushed it open. She ducked under his arm, catching that delicious scent of his.
Num.
“Thanks.”

And Liam followed her in.

She frowned. “Umm—”

“—There you are, Liam,” Mamma interrupted. “Dolley, make sure he has something to drink.”

“It smells wonderful in here.” Liam moved to the sitting area like he belonged.

Dolley jerked to a stop, her mouth dropping open.

Abby laughed at her.

Setting down the bottle and glasses, Dolley asked, “Liam, what would you like?”

“Whatever the rest of you are having.” He smiled at her and held up two fingers.

Two? What was that about?

She went to the butler's pantry and brought back another flute. Then she pulled the cork, watching Liam and her mother talk.

“What's going on?” she whispered to Abby.

“Mamma invited him to dinner.”

“With us?”

Abby nodded.

Dolley was trying to maintain a professional relationship with Liam, and Mamma was inviting him to a family dinner? She huffed out a sigh. Enjoying Abby's great food and wine together wasn't exactly businesslike.

“What?” Abby asked.

“Thinking about work,” she lied.

“Maybe you need to cut back.” Abby rubbed Dolley's neck. “You're holding down three jobs.”

“I'll survive.” Dolley leaned into her sister. “Luckily, the B and B's holiday break starts tomorrow.”

“That just means you'll work on Carleton House setup.” Abby frowned. “Let me know if you need help with anything.”

“Thanks.” She couldn't add to Abby's burdens. Her sister had a wedding to plan. “What can I help with here?”

“After you bring Liam his glass, set the table.”

Shoot. She'd forgotten about Liam's drink. Had he really wanted the Brut? Usually he had Jameson, neat. Not that she paid attention to what he drank during wine tastings.

She poured three glasses and took one to the sitting area along with the bottle.

“Thank you.” He took the glass, brushing her fingers and sending unwanted shivers up her arm.

Bess walked in from the courtyard. “Hey, Liam, thanks for helping out tonight.”

Helping out?

Liam shook his head. “I just opened bottles and kept things flowing.”

“But I appreciate it. There was a problem with the greenhouse heating. I wanted to make sure it was fixed before this cold snap swings in tonight.”

“No problem.” Liam shook his head. “I got dinner out of it.”

Mamma held up her glass, and Dolley topped it off.

“You're at dinner because you're a shirttail relative,” Mamma said.

Dolley almost dropped the bottle. “We're related?”

“No.” Liam held up his hands. “My godfather was a FitzGerald.”

“The godfather who brought you up?” Bess asked.

Liam nodded.

How did everyone know this stuff but her?

Apparently Liam
was
keeping things professional. He'd probably had second thoughts after their near kiss. Normally guys waited until
after
they'd kissed her to have second thoughts.

Abby turned. “Once the table is set, we can eat.”

Dolley headed to the pantry to grab dishes.

Liam followed her. “I can help.”

“Sounds like you're helping everyone.” She gathered plates and handed them to him, and then picked out the silverware. “Why didn't you tell me you were brought up by a FitzGerald?”

“It was not a happy time in my life.” He didn't add any more.

She wanted to ask questions, but that would be merging their personal lives with the business. She wouldn't be the one muddying the waters.

They set the table. Bess and Abby brought the food, and somehow she ended up sitting across from Liam. She angled sideways so she wasn't staring into his eyes every time she looked up.

“Liam, thank you for the Irish whiskey cookie recipe,” Abby said, passing the meat. “They got rave reviews at afternoon tea.”