Savannah Girl’s Three Wishes
A New Adult Fantasy Romance
Paula Millhouse
Synopsis
Will Abigail O’Malley ever find true love?
When Savannah girl Abby O’Malley catches leprechaun Michael McKnight at her Savannah home, will he grant her three wishes? Or is finding second chances at true love just too much to ask the universe?
Rival Irishman Kevin Finnegan is determined to steal O’Malley’s Bar & Grill, an historic Savannah landmark on River Street. Abby must find a way to stop him—O’Malley’s is her inheritance, and all she has left to her name from her dear father Angus. Does Michael command the kind of magic she needs to set her world right and make her dreams come true?
Michael fell in love with Abby when they were teenagers, but he was punished by the fairy king for hoarding gold, forced to wear Kelly Green, and suffered banishment from his beloved Savannah for ten long years. When Abby places magical fairy charms out and calls for help, he’ll bend space and time to get back to her.
But now, as new adults, will getting caught by Abby be the end-game for him as a leprechaun? Will he give up his magic and gold to the whims of the Fae royalty? Or will granting Abby’s three wishes finally make all his dreams come true?
Dedication
To the man I met in Savannah,
Carl Millhouse,
my One True Love
Chapter 1
ABIGAIL O’MALLEY CURSED under her breath, stalked down the cobblestoned streets of Savannah’s historic district, and dialed her friend/bouncer/right-hand barman Eddie. A moment later his big bass voice filled the phone.
“O’Malley’s Bar & Grill.”
“You’re never gonna believe it.” Abby cringed as she delivered the news. “Kevin Finnegan called the note due on the property taxes on the bar. And my damn house!”
“You did not just say that.” Eddie’s voice was flat as Abby stomped down the cobblestones toward her car, a lump forming in her throat. Eddie paused then added, “Shooo doggies, girl. What’d you do to piss him off? I told you not to get involved with him.”
“He proposed last night. I refused. He immediately demanded his damn money. Some prince charming, huh?”
She pictured her college friend on the other end of the line. She and Eddie had shared core classes at the University of Georgia together. He was tall, shaved his caramel colored head bald, and as a child of Savannah like her, they both shared a love of everything low-country. They’d graduated together, and he’d come back to help her work O’Malley’s.
A whistle that lasted way too long eased out of Eddie. “That rat bastard.”
“I know, right? We’re finished.”
“He wants your bar, sweetheart. O’Malley’s is prime real estate on River Street. But he can’t move in on us the week before St. Patrick’s Day! Can’t you file an injunction or something? Sic your snake of an attorney on his ass.”
“I tried, Eddie. Smith says we’re screwed. Finnegan’s the president of the bank, and he wants his money tomorrow.”
“Sheee-it.” Eddie’s southern drawl drew the cussword out into two syllables, and if she weren’t so devastated Abby would have laughed. Her father had hired Eddie to help around O’Malley’s when they were in high school together. Eddie’s open mind and sense of humor was something she treasured. “Nothing quite like a lover scorned. I don’t have that kind of money, sweetheart. I wouldn’t be tending bar if I did.”
“I know. I know. I didn’t want you to fork over that kind of cash. I just…I need someone to commiserate with.”
Abby grimaced. There was only one other soul in the world who would ever own her heart, and Finnegan didn’t even come close. “It’s my fault, Eddie. I should have seen this coming. And—for the record—Finnegan and I were never lovers.” She’d never been with anyone, truth be told. She’d been passively waiting for a dream to come true—Mr. Right coming back and sweeping her off her feet in a blaze of light and magic. Looked like this was the wrong day for dreaming.
“Well, you can’t blame yourself if Finnegan’s not the one. Best you broke it off with him clean. He’s a big ole’ grade-A ass, and everyone in Savannah knows it.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t see anyone in Savannah standing up to him and saving my scrawny hide. Jesus Christ, Eddie. He’s gonna take my daddy’s bar.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Abby! Did you spend all the money Angus left you?”
“There was a thousand dollars in my daddy’s account when his lawyer Smith read the will. I put it all back into O’Malley’s.” She turned a corner, her heels clicking out a tempo of anger and frustration. She knew better than to wear the shoes on the cobblestones, but she couldn’t help herself. She coveted a great pair of heels. “Did the distributor deliver the beer?”
“I was gonna wait until you got here to tell you. They refused the shipment. Something about a glitch in your credit?”
“Oh, hell no!”
“I bet Finnegan called them.”
“This is it, Eddie. As I live and breathe, my father will turn over in his grave.”
“Don’t speak about the dead. It’s bad luck.”
“Damn it. What am I gonna do now?” Abby stopped in front of an antique shop and snatched the door open. Nothing like a little shopping therapy to soothe a woman’s battered soul. Even if it was only window-shopping. “You find the extra staff we need for Saturday?”
The biggest weekend for selling beer and other Irish Savannah delights loomed like a beacon, just three days away. If she made enough profits this coming weekend, she just might be able to get herself out of hot water.
“Uhh, about that.”
The tone in his voice made Abby’s heart stop cold. “Talk to me, Eddie.”
“Well…no can do. No one’s available, and all of our regular staff just up and quit on us this morning. Unless you can find a pile of cash, it’s just you and me, kid.”
Without the right kind of help there’d be no way she and Eddie could possibly pull this off. Again, a sneaking suspicion told her Kevin Finnegan was at the root of her demise. He knew everyone in town, and it would only take a couple of phone calls to verify he’d lured her people away to her competitors so he could ruin her. “This day keeps getting better and better.”
Miserable, Abby hung up her phone and deposited it in her purse. The haze of bad news clouded her mind while she wandered the aisles of the antique shop and its beautiful old building. She stared at the grand furnishings and imagined filling her empty house by the river, beautiful things to go with someone to love, if she could ever find him. Maybe she would someday. In her dreams, there was only one soul that would do. The trouble was, he was nowhere in sight and hadn’t been for a long, long time. Or maybe he’d never existed. If only she could forget the disaster of impending foreclosure.
Her heart sank. Refusing Finnegan’s advances when he was obviously sweet on her had turned out to be a foolish decision considering he held all the cards. She couldn’t do anything else, though, because the man repulsed her. Accepting his marriage proposal would have been a lose-lose scenario.
The shop maven descended as Abby cursed her bad luck. “Can I help you, dear?”
Not unless you’ve got a pile of gold hidden somewhere in here. As if piles of gold just sit around waiting to be found. A girl can dream, right? Abby’s chin quivered, and she tried to speak past the tightness in her throat. When she succeeded, her voice lifted with false brightness. “I’m just browsing today. Thank you.”
The shop maven was a little old lady dressed in classic �
�Savannah early spring”. She’d topped her knee-length patterned skirt with a pastel chiffon blouse and pearls. Light colored pantyhose led down to pumps. Abby admired those pumps.
“Are you visiting Savannah for the parade festivities, dear?”
Abby shivered. “I’m Abigail O’Malley. I own the bar down on River Street.” Though I’ll be homeless after the parade this year.
The lady straightened to attention. “Angus O’Malley’s bar?”
Abby nodded, and her heart lifted at the mention of her daddy’s name.
The lady’s face brightened then fell. “Oh, my goodness. Angus O’Malley was famous around here. What a life he lived! So sad, the way he went. What’s it been now, five years? Anyway, I know the place well. You must have been the little freckle-faced girl in pigtails behind the bar. It’s nice to meet you, Abigail.”
Losing her dad had been a horrible thing to endure. Early Alzheimer’s had stolen precious years from them, and Abby still missed him every day. She tried for a smile. “Please. Call me Abby.”
The little old lady eased over and held out her hands. “My name is Jessica Thornburton. When I was a young lady in college my friends and I met around O’Malley’s. As I said, your father was…a character. But news travels fast, dear. I hear the place is gonna be renamed Finnegan’s.”
“What?” Abby’s eyes clouded with tears and they breached the dam. So fast? But she couldn’t marry Finnegan, not even to save the bar. Her heart belonged to another. Stupidly, maybe. Impossibly. Tears slid down her cheeks.
Jessica moved in and took her hand. “There, there, dear. Come and let me pour you a cup of tea. My God, I’ve said too much.”
Abby burst into sobs, and because the little old lady spoke kindly Abby followed her to the sitting area in the back of the shop. There Jessica served her a cup of Irish Breakfast Tea in her finest china, with cream and honey. She reminisced over details about Abby’s father, and his kindness and extravagance, and before Abby knew it she’d poured out her whole wretched story in return.
“Finnegan’s got you right where he wants you.” Jessica offered up a handkerchief and a smile, a strange twinkle in her eye. “I’m sorry, dear, but I cannot fix your troubles. Marriage for convenience’s sake is hard, but pining for unrequited love? Now that can do a girl in.”
Abby shook her head and dabbed her lashes, stared off into the middle distance of the shop searching for a solution. At last she folded the handkerchief, sad she’d sullied the fine linen. “I know. Thank you for your time and hospitality, Mrs. Thornburton. I miss my father. I wonder what he’d do to get out of this fix.” Would Angus tell me to buck up and take Finnegan’s offer? Business is business, after all.
Maybe it was time for her to grow up, put her dreams away, and act like an adult. Still, the thought of a loveless marriage to that Asshat Finnegan was probably the worst thing she could think of.
Jessica slipped off around the corner and her voice echoed back. “I have just the thing to distract you for a spell.”
Abby waited. She had just lifted the tiny china cup to her lips and sipped down the last swallow of soothing tea when the woman returned with two wooden boxes filled with miniature sets of furniture. Three tiny doors merely eight inches tall, miniature chairs, two tables, and a matching carved wooden bench completed each dollhouse-sized collection. The tiny ornaments were popular among the best-dressed houses and gardens of the area, and they represented the whimsical belief that good spirits existed on a magical plane—or at least that good luck could be invited into one’s home.
“Fairy charms?” Abby laughed and touched the tiny treasures. The last time she’d seen anything like this was when she’d played with her imaginary friend as a child. “My Dad used to put these out around our place when I was a little girl.”
Jessica nodded, held one of the chairs up and inspected it, her eyes dancing. “Angus O’Malley swore if you invited a fairy to your door and provided charms for them they’d look after your land. Protect you from evil spirits and voodoo and whatnot.” She looked deep into Abby’s eyes. “I want you to have these.”
“Oh, I couldn’t afford them today.” But Abby reached out and touched the tiny charms and memories of a better time crashed in around her. She placed a little wooden bench in her palm, and as she stroked the delicately carved woodwork her fingers tingled as if magic radiated from within. “They really are exquisite.”
“Consider them a gift—in trade for the wonderful memories your father inspired. Angus made my life better when he was here. I want you to have them.”
Nostalgia filled Abby. “I remember seeing fireflies in the summer at our house on Isle of Hope. We pretended they were fairies dancing on the lawn, and we would sit and watch them for hours after supper. I had an imaginary friend, a boy, who would come out to play with me.”
“Oh?” Jessica said, a smile sliding across her face. “That’s a sign of good luck, you know. Children should build active imaginations.”
Abby felt her chest tighten. Those childhood memories all seemed lost, darkened by her present situation. Lot of good it does me to pine for an imaginary friend. The truth was, though, she’d had trouble connecting with anyone else on the same level ever again. Another tear trickled down her cheek.
“Did you know he had them at the bar?”
Abby shook her head and looked up into Jessica’s eyes. “Fairies?”
The old woman laughed and waved her hand in the air. “There’s no such thing as fairies, silly girl.” She pointed at the boxes. “The charms. Angus left them out around the bar for good luck.”
Oh. Abby reined herself in and nodded. Grief is turning you into a first-class dunce. “Right. The charms. No such thing as fairies.”
“Tell you what. We’ll make a trade. You take the charms. Use some of their magical appeal for your home and some of them for the bar. Set them out. Maybe they’ll fetch you some luck. I’ll drop by O’Malley’s once you get this all straightened out, and you can buy me an Irish coffee.”
Abby’s heart lifted at the woman’s optimism. That’s what she really needed in her life right now. Optimism and hope. She touched one of the fairy doors, and the magic tingle drew out a smile as wistfulness juxtaposed awfulness and left behind a spark of hope. She peeked up at Jessica. Somehow the woman’s kindness made going home to her big empty house feel a little less lonely.
What happened to all Dad’s fairy charms? She wondered. She’d never thought to look for them after coming home from college. Like so many childhood treasures, they’d gotten lost somewhere along the way to becoming a grownup.
Abby sniffled and collected the boxes of treasures. “Sounds like a fair trade to me. As long as I’m pouring Irish whiskey at O’Malley’s, you’ve got a seat of honor at the bar, Miss Thornburton.”
She took her gift and collected her things, then walked to her car and drove the winding river road home to Isle of Hope. La Roche Avenue led across bridges over southern salt marshes, and the blue water of Spring Tide flowed high among green-gold marsh grass, live oak trees, and Spanish moss. The beautiful afternoon scenery eased the ache in her chest and flooded her with excitement. She definitely planned to put those fairy charms out in her daddy’s honor. Smiling over at the antique boxes, she floored the accelerator.
Once home, Abby opened herself a beer—a real beer, an Irish stout—and drank it straight from the bottle. She promptly changed her clothes, took her stout, grabbed a box of fairy charms and eased out of the house to the bluff. There she stared across the wide Skidaway River.
God, I love this place.
The smell of the salt-marsh mesmerized her, briny, like the sea. Home—this was what home smelled like. A red-winged blackbird chirped from the distance and something hammered a nearby tree. Abby smiled a bittersweet smile and craved the company of her family. She visualized a young boy who’d held her heart, and she let herself miss him too.
A sailboat skimming across the river caught her eye, and her stomach rolled.
She couldn’t imagine giving all this up. She couldn’t imagine sharing it with Finnegan, either. Damn, him. How dare he? She set her jaw. She’d sell it all before she let him bully her.
If a realtor sold the property she might come out even. But then what? “Why can’t I find some way to be happy?”
Tears blurred her eyes but she scrubbed them away. “Buck up, girl. Find a way.” Her dad would have said that—There’s always a way. She simply had to choose to believe she was strong enough to find it.
Glancing over at the antique-store box, she felt her heart flutter. Ever since she’d touched the fairy charms, hope lifted her spirits. Perhaps when she set them up her luck would change. Like saving Tinker Bell in Peter Pan, she just had to really, really believe. Then maybe she’d win the Lotto or something. Yeah. Right. But she chose to stay positive anyway.
Taking a deep breath, Abby first sat down on an old rock facing the river and enjoyed the promise of spring. The weather, dry and crisp this afternoon, contrasted the notorious humidity of Savannah. Not a sand gnat was in sight as a feather-light March breeze blew in off the water and stirred her hair. For a moment she stilled her mind, sat there alone soaking up sunshine and nostalgia, sipping on Irish stout. Then, when the beer was done, Abby fished around in the antique box. Three chairs, a bench, and a fairy door called out to her, and she knew exactly where to put them. Her instincts were strong.
She wheeled around. At well over four acres, the O’Malley property sported a long oyster-shell driveway. She and her imaginary friend had counted every tree. Fifteen palmettos and seventy-five loblolly pines kept company with five massive live oaks, one of which they’d estimated at six-hundred years old.
Abby tried to visualize the young boy who’d stolen her heart at the ripe old age of eight, and even though she couldn’t exactly remember his face, she wished him back to life. Whatever had happened to him, she didn’t know. One day he was there and the next he was gone. She’d waited for him to return, pined for him, even, but he never came back.
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