Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.
Confucius
“HAVE YOU SEEN LIAM?” Dolley limped into the kitchen. She had to make sure she and Liam were okay.
“Was I on Liam watch?” Abby made a production of checking her to-do list. “Nope. You have that honor.”
“Right.” Dolley rolled her eyes. Wait. Did Abby suspect something? “I thought...you might have talked to him this morning. That’s all,” she sputtered.
Abby frowned. “Did something happen?”
“We were at Kevin Barry’s, and Anne was drunk. She said something that made it sound like I was...using him.” Dolley rubbed her temple, but her headache pounded harder.
“Liam’s spent enough time with you to know that’s not true.” Abby came over and rubbed Dolley’s left arm. “Don’t worry.”
Dolley winced.
Abby pulled away. “What’s wrong?”
“I fell climbing the River Street stairs.” She exhaled. “And landed on my left side.”
“Oh, Dolley.” Abby reached out to hug her but stopped. “Would a cup of tea help?”
“Yes.” Dolley shuffled to the sitting area and eased onto the sofa with a groan. “Any muffins left from breakfast?”
“Do you want apple cinnamon or the ginger fig?”
“Ginger fig.”
Dolley leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes. What if Liam had second thoughts? What if he believed she was mercenary? Had kissing him seemed like a ploy, too? Her head throbbed with worry.
“Here you go.” Abby set a mug of tea on the coffee table. Then she handed her a couple of ibuprofen and a warm muffin with cream cheese melting on the top.
“You’re the best.” Dolley swallowed the pills.
“What are you doing here so early?”
“I didn’t want to walk to my apartment last night.” Dolley shifted off a sore spot. “I crashed in the carriage house.”
“You must really hurt.” Abby turned to her lists. “Did you get your bridesmaid’s dress back from the seamstress yesterday?”
“I didn’t have a chance. I might have Technicolor skin for your wedding.”
“You’re that bruised?” Alarm filled Abby’s voice.
Dolley rolled up the sleeve of her sweater. A deep purple bruise covered most of her upper arm.
“Ouch. There’s always makeup. Maybe the bruises will fade in two weeks.”
“If they don’t, Liam will make me touch up the photos.” Assuming he didn’t fire her. “Or I can only have the right side of my body in the pictures.”
They both chuckled.
“Don’t make me laugh.” Dolley grabbed her ribs. “It hurts.”
Abby sat on the coffee table and took her good hand. “I should take you to the ER. You could have cracked a rib.”
“I’m just sore.” Dolley changed the subject. “I saw Mamma’s coming down the end of the week.”
A smile lit Abby’s face. “She loved the idea of being part of Liam’s documentary. Personally, I think she wants to adopt the man. We’ll do the interview before the wedding.”
“Great.” Not. She didn’t want to have to talk on camera. Dolley rolled a little. The bruise on her hip ached.
While she finished her tea and muffin, they talked about Carleton House and timing issues. “I guess I’ll see if I can find Liam.”
Maybe she should call. Going to his room might make him doubt her sincerity even more. She rolled her shoulders. Mistake. She breathed through the pain.
Even after taking the elevator, she was groaning by the time she knocked on Liam’s door.
“Coming,” he called.
The door opened. His face was a solemn mask. “Hallo.”
His blue gaze stole her breath. She wheezed out, “Hi.”
They stared at each other. Sound slipped away. There was only him. Their chests rose and fell in sync.
He didn’t reach for her. Did he regret last night? Or was it happening again? A couple of kisses and another man was done with her.
“Would you like to come in?” he asked.
“Yes.” She forced her feet to move in a limping shuffle.
Last time she’d been in his room, she hadn’t noticed the clutter of Liam’s life. Piles of books overflowed the tables. Flip charts hung from the walls. Notepads occupied the chairs. “Impressive.”
“Yes.” But he wasn’t looking at his work, he was looking at her.
A blush heated her face—darn redheaded genes.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Nervous.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, her fingers tapping her sweater. “Embarrassed. Anxious.”
His eyebrows popped up. “I meant your side. Where you fell.”
“Oh.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Sore. I’m growing impressive bruises.”
“I’m sorry you were hurt.”
They stood in the middle of the room.
“I just—” she said.
“Last night—” he started at the same time.
They both stopped.
“Sit.” He cleared a tablet off the sofa.
She sank onto the cushions, easing her foot onto the coffee table.
Instead of sitting next to her, he took the armchair. “Go ahead.”
She’d rather Liam go first.
If she apologized again and he thanked her but wanted nothing more to do with her, she’d curl into a depressed ball. Stalling, she asked, “What were you going to say?”
“Ladies first.”
“I’m sorry Anne made me sound...like such a scheming bitch.” She looked into his eyes, biting her lower lip. “It’s not true.”
“Do you think I think so little of you?” His voice was low and deep.
“I...I don’t know.” She rubbed her temple. “I’m not good with men.”
“You have more male friends than I do!”
“I’m not good at the—” she waved her hand between their bodies “—romantic part. Men don’t like me that way.”
“Then they don’t see how amazing you are, darlin’.” He shifted to the sofa, sitting on her right side. “May I put my arm around you?”
She nodded, afraid if she talked, her voice would crack.
Carefully, he tucked her into his chest. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She turned her face into his shirt. “You were upset last night.”
“I got over it.” He brushed his lips on her forehead. “You kissed my anger away.”
She traced patterns on his chest. The ability to touch him felt natural but odd.
“What are you frettin’ on?” he asked.
“Why are you so different?” she blurted out.
“Different?” He smoothed a curl off her face. “How’s that?”
“You’ve been around me for almost a month.” She looked at her lap. “Most guys tire of me by now.”
He tugged her chin up. “I told you, Yanks don’t appreciate you.”
Cupping her cheek, he dipped his head. His eyes were so serious, it made her breath catch in her chest.
“You’re special.” His mouth brushed hers.
She tilted her head, wanting more than a soft, tender kiss.
His lips pressed harder, and she opened to him. He delved in and stroked her tongue.
She chased his tongue with hers, tasting coffee and mint and Liam.
He groaned. His hand slipped to her chest, hesitating when she wanted him to be bold.
She pressed his hand to her breast.
“Dolley.” His hands tested and massaged. His thumb brushed against her aching nipple. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her onto his lap.
“Owww.” Pain knifed through her.
He cursed. “I forgot. I’m sorry. Sorry.”
She let out a shaky breath, tears filling her eyes. “Damn.”
His hand stroked her back. “Are you all right?”
She took a shallow, shaky breath. “I will be.”
He eased her back onto the sofa. “I should have waited.”
“I didn’t want you to.” She wanted more, but the pain was too much.
Concern filled his face. “Can I get you something? Do you need pills, water?”
“Abby took care of me.” She smoothed her finger over the furrows between his eyebrows. “Now what?”
He pressed a chaste kiss on her lips. “Now we work in the attic.”
She chuckled. “You say the sweetest things.”
As they headed to the elevator, she asked, “Working together won’t change, right?” Anxiousness made her voice crack.
“I always thought we could work together and have a relationship.” His jaw flexed. “Why don’t we take it a day at a time?”
One day at a time. She liked to plan a little further ahead than that. But maybe that was her problem. “Okay. A day at a time.”
* * *
DOLLEY GRABBED THE box of half-dead plants from her car. It was moving day for her and Carleton House.
No working with Liam on research or photography today. She sighed. And no kisses. His kisses over the last week and a half were the highlight of her day. Year. Decade. She worried she was a junkie, first addicted to his cologne and now his kisses.
Bess and Abby exited the Fitzgerald House kitchen door.
“Moving day!” Abby called from across the courtyard. “Do you want me to grab anything?”
“There are boxes and suitcases in my car.” Dolley hurried up the steps as fast as she could. Most of the soreness had eased, but her hip still hurt. Plus, she didn’t want Bess to see the plants she’d almost killed.
“What have you done?” Bess’s steps pounded behind her.
“How could you see the plants from across the courtyard?” Dolley asked.
Bess shook her head. “I heard them crying.”
Dolley handed Bess the box and unlocked the door. “I’ve been busy.”
“No excuses,” Bess scolded, taking the box into the kitchen. She pulled out a drooping Peace Lily and African violet. “Oh, my lands.”
Dolley left her tending the abused plants. She held the door for Abby as her sister hauled in a suitcase, then headed to the car to grab more boxes.
The car was empty in fifteen minutes.
“I feel like we just moved Bess out of here.” Abby sank to the floor.
“We did.” Dolley checked to see if any of the trucks had arrived.
“Daniel’s just leaving your apartment.” Bess looked up from her phone. “Rest while you can, ladies. We’ll unload your furniture. The first truck for Carleton House arrives in fifty minutes.”
“It’s hard to believe this is happening.” Abby bounced a little. “Last year Fitzgerald House had unfinished rooms.”
They talked about reservations and Abby’s wedding and Bess’s engagement. She hadn’t figured out how to tell her sisters about Liam.
She chewed her nail.
“Not you, too.” Abby tapped her hand. “Don’t pick up Bess’s bad habit.”
Dolley pulled her thumb away from her mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Bess asked. “Still sore?”
“Yeah.” Let them think it was her bruises rather than confessing she was in a relationship with her mentor. She didn’t want anyone to think what she and Liam were exploring was—sleazy. She took in a deep breath. It was amazing. He was amazing.
The rumble of a truck in the parking lot had them pushing to their feet.
“Let’s do this.” Dolley led the way down the steps.
“You’re limping,” Abby said to Dolley. “Hand out boxes from the truck.”
“Okay.” Dolley didn’t argue.
Gray dropped the truck ramp with a clang. “Are you ready?”
Abby pulled him into a hug. “Always.”
Daniel came around from the front of the truck and swung Bess into a hug. “’Morning.”
The two couples kissed.
“Enough,” Dolley called out, wishing Liam was here to greet her the same way. She climbed into the truck and handed boxes to her sisters. “Do something constructive.”
Daniel and Gray pulled out her sofa.
While they climbed the stairs, she moved boxes to the truck ramp. It held most of her possessions. If she left Savannah, what would she do with her things? Her stomach twisted at the thought.
“What can I haul up?” Liam called from outside.
Warmth filled her. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping.” He hopped into the truck and closed in on her.
“You’re a guest.” Dolley chewed her lip.
Touching her cheek, he said, “I want to help. You’re not completely healed.”
She drew in a quick breath, leaning into his touch. Her heart pounded. After being around him for a while, shouldn’t this physical reaction lessen? “Thanks.”
“’Morning.” His voice was low. It drilled into her core.
Her hand covered his. “’Morning.”
Footsteps echoed on the stairs.
They stepped apart.
“I feel guilty pulling you away from your work,” she said.
“Don’t.” His eyes sparkled in the dim light. “It just means you’ll have to spend late nights helping me catch up.”
He jumped out of the truck and grabbed a box before she could reply.
Swallowing, she stripped off her fleece sweatshirt. It was heating up in here.
They emptied the truck. Boxes and people filled her new living room.
Daniel looked up from his phone. “The first Carleton House truck is almost here.”
Everyone headed over to Carleton House, but she held Liam back.
“Thank you.” She stood on her toes and brushed a kiss on his lips.
He backed her against the door, his fingers threading through her hair. “I hated the idea of not seeing you all day.”
Her mouth dropped open, and he took advantage of her surprise. Their tongues thrust and parried, a mock duel she didn’t mind losing.
When he pulled away, she was gasping. Thank goodness she was leaning against the door, or her legs might have given way.
He grinned. “Let’s head to Carleton House.”
“You’re cruel,” she muttered.
Working around Liam all day was torture. He was everywhere, and she couldn’t stop admiring his butt as he lifted and carried.
They took a break in the Carleton House dining room. Cheryl set out muffins, and the moving crew hovered next to the trays and coffeepot.
Dolley frowned. “You’re wearing blue jeans.”
Liam looked down, his golden skin tinged with pink. “Aye.”
“I’ve never seen you in blue jeans.” And he wore a flannel shirt.
He shrugged and headed to the tray of treats.
Liam, Nathan and Daniel stood next to each other. And they all wore the same thing. Flannel shirts and jeans. Clones.
Liam always wore black jeans. And she’d never seen him in a flannel shirt.
Bess set a hand on her shoulder. “The truck with the furniture Mamma bought just arrived from Atlanta. Time to do your thing.”
Dolley set up in the service entrance. Her memory came in handy on moving day. As people filed by with furniture, she directed them to the proper room. A human Harry Potter sorting hat. When she had a break, she checked off items on the paper list.
“That floor lamp goes into the Telfair room,” she said to one of the crew. Instead of the presidents’ wives theme from Fitzgerald House, they’d named the Carleton House rooms after Savannah’s squares.
Liam came in with a bookcase wrapped in a moving blanket. She pulled back the cover and matched the furniture with the inventory in her head. “Second floor hallway opposite Oglethorpe.”
He shook his head. “You’re amazing.”
His appreciation warmed her. “I have a good memory.”
“I have a good memory. You have a computer for a brain.”
She rolled her shoulder. A computer didn’t sound like a compliment. But he was moving down the hall, and the next piece of furniture waited for sorting.
The crews stopped for lunch. Dolley took pictures for the blog. Then they met the next truck.
“This is very organized.” Dolley touched Bess’s arm. “Congratulations.”
“I’m too smart to organize this craziness. We have Daniel and Abby at our beck and call.” Bess had been the sister in charge of bringing Carleton House on line. “I brought them together, and they developed the timelines.”
“Next truck is here,” Daniel announced.
Workers scrambled to their feet.
“That should be mattresses,” Bess said.
The afternoon flew by. When Dolley hadn’t seen Liam for almost an hour, she assumed he’d gone back to work. She missed him.
He came through the hallway with an armful of flattened boxes.
Her body warmed. “I thought you left.”
“Nope. They had me opening boxes. Tellies.”
“The flat screens?”
“Yes.”
“If no one has said it, thank you for all your help.” She touched his arm.
A smile broke across his face. He’d been doing it so often, she wondered if he knew. He wasn’t hanging in the background like he used to.
“I’ve been invited to dinner.” He wove their fingers together. “That’s thanks enough, unless you have another way to thank me?”
The warmth she’d felt all day blossomed into a full-blown fire. From starting her day disappointed she wouldn’t see Liam to spending the day and evening with him was a wonderful surprise. She could think of lots of ways to thank him. Most involved his bed. “I will. In private.”
She stood on her toes and kissed him.
“Hey, you two, you’re holding up the line,” Gray called, backing through the door carrying one end of a very large box. Daniel was on the other side. “Here’s the biggest flat screen.”
“Library,” Dolley squeaked out.
“Delaney, want to help with this?” Gray glared at Liam as he carried the box past them.
“Absolutely, lads.” Liam grabbed the middle and moved away from her with a wink.
Daniel’s eyebrows arched as he moved past her.
She bit her lip. Should she follow them down the hall and make sure Gray and Daniel weren’t taking this big-brother thing too far?
“Where does this go?” asked a mover, holding an armoire.
“The Orleans room.”
Liam would have to hold his own against Gray and Daniel. She had work to do.
* * *
LIAM HELD THE Carleton House kitchen door for Gray and Daniel.
The two men had taken turns glaring at him most of the afternoon.
“Hold up, Delaney,” Gray ordered.
Liam stopped on the courtyard path. “What can I do for you?”
“Explain what’s going on with you and Dolley.” Daniel’s muscles bulged as he crossed his arms.
Liam stood a little straighter. These men would not intimidate him. “She’s an amazing woman.”
Gray’s blue gaze seared his face. “Yes, she is.”
“And she’s going to be our sister.” Daniel waved a hand between him and Gray.
Gray poked a finger into Liam’s chest. “You hurt her, we hurt you.”
Liam pushed Gray’s hand away. “Did you two gits practice this act?”
“Naw.” Daniel slapped his back. Hard. “Just remember. You answer to us now.”
How could he forget? Maybe he should ignore Abby’s dinner invitation and take Dolley out. He inhaled. She’d promised to thank him for helping them move in private.
He followed Gray and Daniel into the Fitzgerald House kitchen.
The sisters worked in different sections of the room. Daniel moved to Bess in the sitting area. Gray homed in on Abby next to the ovens. He glanced at Dolley.
She waved but turned back to setting the table.
“Smells grand in here,” Liam said, hating that he was odd man out.
“Lasagna.” Abby slipped bread into the oven.
Gray nuzzled her neck. “I love your lasagna.”
Abby laughed. “Which is why you asked for it about a dozen times when you knew you could help with moving day.”
Liam laughed along with everyone, but he didn’t like this. He moved to Dolley and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “How are you feeling?”
Her face went pink. “A little sore, but I’m okay.”
Four pairs of eyes burned holes in his back. Too bad. He and Dolley were a couple.
“Anyone want a Jameson?” he asked.
“Sure.” Daniel said.
Gray nodded. “I’ll help.”
They headed to the library. Liam picked up the Waterford decanter, and Gray added ice to all three tumblers.
“I usually—” Liam took it neat.
“Yes?” Gray held up the tumbler.
“Nothing.” When in Rome.
Liam carried Daniel’s glass and his and made the silent trip back to the kitchen. He wasn’t letting Gray get the upper hand. He and Dolley were dating, and that was that.
Dolley frowned and pointed to his glass. “You take your Jameson neat.”
“Gray added ice.” He took a sip. “It’s not bad.”
Her frown deepened.
Abby called them to the table before he could ask what was wrong.
He took a seat next to Dolley.
Abby and Gray rubbed shoulders. Bess and Daniel held hands.
Dolley took his hand and brushed a kiss across his knuckles.
And the tension that had knotted the muscles in his back eased.
“My, my,” Abby said, breaking the quiet. “This is a new development.”
“Don’t start,” Dolley warned under her breath.
“I told you.” Bess held her hand out to Abby. “You owe me ten bucks.”
Gray laughed and held out his hand to Daniel. “You owe me twenty.”
“You were betting...on us?” Dolley blinked.
“When you’re together there’s—” Gray looked at Abby “—sparks in the air.”
Liam put his arm around the back of her chair. He pointed at Gray and Daniel. “And I’ve already been lectured by those two.”
“What?” Dolley sputtered. She shook her fingers at the men. “You have no right to interfere.”
“We’re family,” Daniel explained.
Gray and Daniel gave each other high fives.
“Liam,” Gray called down. “You’re now an honorary member of the wedding party and family. I expect you to come to my bachelor party and groom’s dinner.”
Liam blinked. “That’s not necessary.”
“Oh, but it is.” Gray nodded. “Right now we’re outnumbered by Fitzgerald women. You’ll even the odds.”
Abby elbowed her fiancé.
“Let me rephrase,” Gray spit out. “We’re outnumbered by gorgeous Fitzgerald women. And Daniel and I would love to have a talk with you.”
“That’s better.” Abby batted her eyelashes.
“No talking!” Dolley pointed her finger at Gray and Daniel.
Liam laughed. “You’re all cracked.”
“After dinner we’re doing a bourbon tasting,” Daniel said. “Come with us.”
“I’ve never had bourbon,” Liam said.
“You’re in the South,” Daniel said. “Time to expand your liquor knowledge.”
“That sounds...interesting.” Liam sighed. Now he wouldn’t find out how Dolley had planned to thank him.
* * *
DOLLEY DRAGGED HERSELF into the second floor parlor Liam was using to interview her family. Mamma, Abby and Bess stood near the fireplace.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Dolley moved to Liam and whispered, “I don’t think you need to film me, just Mamma, Abby and Bess.”
“Of course you’ll be in this interview.”
She chewed on her thumbnail.
Liam touched her hand.
Her eyes widened. She was picking up Bess’s habit of destroying her nails.
“Are you nervous, luv?” He set his hand on her shoulder.
“Me?”
“You’re tremblin’ like a bird cornered by a cat.”
“Maybe.” Dolley bit her lip. “A little. I’m better behind a camera.”
“You’ll be fantastic.” He took both her shoulders in his hands. “Forget the camera. Just talk to your family and me. Deep breath.”
She inhaled and exhaled. “I’m sorry. I’ve always had a tiny bit of stage fright.” Tiny was a lie.
“It’s only you and me talking.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Mrs. Robbins, if you would take the middle chair,” Liam directed, “then your lovely daughters can be next to you.”
Bess rolled her eyes. Abby grinned. Mamma laughed.
Dolley twisted her hands.
“Call me Mamie.” Mamma touched Liam’s arm. “Since I married, I barely answer to the right name anymore.”
Dolley sat and tugged her skirt down. A flash went off and her head jerked up. “I didn’t know you were taking pictures, too. I could do that.”
“Relax.” Mamma patted Dolley’s leg. “Try and have fun.”
Was Mamma remembering Dolley’s valedictorian speech? She’d stumbled through her remarks and then run to the bathroom and thrown up.
She swallowed. That memory wasn’t conducive to talking in front of a camera.
“I don’t usually have so many lovely women all in one room,” Liam said.
Everyone but Dolley laughed. Where was the closest bathroom?
“Abby, luv, could you change places with Bess?”
Abby grinned. “Sure.”
Abby stood and Bess slid over.
Dolley closed her eyes and focused on her breathing.
“Good. Great. Now the colors are mixed up a bit,” he explained.
“Thank you for taking the time to talk about your ancestry.” Liam took a chair next to the camera. “I want this to be a dialogue. I may bounce around with questions, but don’t worry. The magic happens in the editing room.”
“I’m not sure how much we can tell you.” Mamma’s shoulders rose and fell.
“Why don’t we start with what you know,” he said. “When did your ancestors come to America?”
Everyone looked at Dolley.
She swallowed. Whatever knowledge she had about the Fitzgeralds evaporated.
“Dolley?” Liam’s bright blue gaze captured hers. He mouthed, Talk to me.
Her breath shook as she inhaled. “James Michael FitzGerald landed in Savannah in the summer of 1830. His wife, Fiona, didn’t arrive until 1833.” She smiled. “From the letters we’ve found, it appears she stayed with the Irish FitzGeralds while her husband started up his business.”
“Fiona had definite preferences as they built Fitzgerald House,” Mamma said. “I used to love the stories Great-grandmamma told about Fiona. She was a woman who knew what she wanted.”
“I guess it’s genetic,” Bess said, under her breath.
They laughed.
“What else do you know about Fitzgerald House?”
“It took two years to complete.” Dolley forced herself to ignore the camera and talk to Liam and her family. “Now that we have samples of Fiona’s handwriting, we can tell she made most of the notes on the original architect’s drawings.”
“In the beginning, the kitchen was a separate building, where the family patio is now. I’ve got recipes.” Abby grinned. “Fiona’s currant scones, shortbread cookies and Welsh cakes.”
“Grandmamma told me the moss roses on the side of the house were brought from Ireland by Fiona,” Bess added. “The palm tree in the sunroom is very old. It might have been Fiona’s or her daughter’s.”
“The matching vases in the ballroom came from Ireland,” Dolley added. “I saw a note in one of the letters.”
“Oh, and the smaller tea trolley,” Mamma murmured.
“The silver hairbrush set was Fiona’s daughter’s, wasn’t it?” Abby asked.
Dolley frowned. “I think it was her grandson’s wife, Clara’s.”
Liam unfolded the family tree, and they discussed what they knew of each of their ancestors.
He asked, “James arrived before the potato famine?”
“Yes.” Dolley nodded.
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.
* * *
LIAM 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.
* * *
DOLLEY 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.
“No one disses my children.”
Another laugh rolled out of Dolley.
This time everyone in the room turned.
“What’s going on over there?” Bess demanded.
“Nothing.” Dolley wiped a tear from her eye. “Mamma broke her own rule.”
Mamma shook her head.
Dolley pointed her finger at her mother. “You used slang.”
“Mamma!” Abby put her hands on her hips, glancing at Liam. “We do not use slang around guests.”
Liam slapped a hand to his chest. “Don’t blame me. I don’t even know what that word means.”
“To show disrespect. Often by insults or criticism,” Dolley blurted out.
Horror filled Daniel’s face. “Did you memorize the dictionary?”
Liam tapped his temple. “Photographic memory.”
Now everyone laughed. Well, Liam only grinned, but that was like a rolling belly laugh from him.
She headed over to plant a kiss on his lips.
Before she could move, Abby called out, “Let’s eat.”
Dolley slipped into the seat next to Liam.
He took her hand and it felt right. She leaned in. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“What are you two conspiring about?” Bess asked. “You’re not going to run around shooting pictures, are you? Dolley’s been bad enough since she bought her new camera.”
Liam held up his hands. “My camera’s upstairs.”
Dolley kept her head down and took salad.
“Dolley?” Abby said.
“I’m not holding one right now, am I?” It was on the mantel.
“Let’s keep it that way,” Mamie said. “I’d rather not ruin a lovely dinner.”
“I admire Dolley’s dedication to her art.” Liam passed Dolley the tureen of borscht. “You should, too.”
Dolley’s cheeks heated to the color of the soup she ladled into her bowl. Her head jerked up. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” His blue laser gaze scanned the table. “Your family should know how talented you are.”
Everyone stared at her.
“Liam—”
“Dolley,” he interrupted. “They should acknowledge your talent and drive.”
She pressed on her roiling stomach. It hadn’t settled down since the interview.
“Thank you for the reminder.” Mamma moved around the table and hugged Liam’s shoulders. Then she kissed Dolley’s cheek. “I’ve grown accustomed to thinking of her camera as an irritation. I’m ashamed of myself. I appreciate you reminding us that Dolley is an artist.”
“Thank you, Mamma.” Dolley closed her eyes. Her chest heaved. Mamma had just called her an artist. But only because Liam had held a mirror up to their behavior.
Mamma squeezed her shoulder before moving back to her chair.
Did she even think of herself as an artist?
“I’m sorry, too.” Bess tipped their heads together. “That would be like you booing whenever I moved dirt.”
“Or when I bake,” Abby added.
Dolley swallowed. “I’m still learning my craft.”
“Don’t belittle yourself.” Liam slapped a hand on the table, and the silverware jumped. “You’ve talent and skill. Especially your pictures of people. One that I don’t have.”
Her family stared at him.
Dolley took a hasty sip of wine. This was what it was like to have someone in her life who had her back. This was what her sisters had found in their fiancés. What Mamma had found with Martin.
She was finally part of the sisterhood. Tears hung on her eyelashes.
“Thank you,” she whispered to Liam. Louder, she said, “Is someone going to pass around Abby’s stroganoff? Talk about an artist.”
Her joke broke the tension. The food circulated again. Conversation picked up.
“Never let anyone diss your talent,” Liam whispered.
She laughed. “You asked me to trust you.”
He nodded.
She squeezed his hand tight. “I do.”
Liam’s smile burst open like sunlight after a thunderstorm. “I won’t let you down.”
Her heart beat a little faster. She was trusting Liam with her family’s legacy and her dreams. Don’t let this be a mistake.