Through a Magnolia Filter

by Nan Dixon

He checked out pictures of Savannah’s St. Patrick’s Day parade. Clicked on a few links. Savannahians celebrated their Irish roots. And this small city had the second largest St. Patrick’s Day parade in America. Why?

  He kept clicking. Found a documentary on the Irish building railroads in Georgia, found other sites touting the Irish regiments in their civil war. Well, his country, too. His father had been an American. Seamus had scorned his dual citizenship. Which made this mission to deliver letters even more puzzling.

  But the idea of researching Savannah’s Irish roots...took hold. Dug in. He could stay at the Fitzgerald’s B and B and work in Savannah. Pretend he was part of their family for a time.

  Once he finished the voice-overs for his Irish Travellers documentary, he needed a new project. Americans were fascinated with their Irish heritage. Why not create a story around the Irish in Savannah?

  He kept searching and didn’t come up for air for an hour. “This might work.”

  He could deliver the letters, but he would also get a new project out of the task.

  He checked the time. His producer should be in her sleek New York office. When her brisk voice came over his mobile, he leaned back.

  “Hallo, Barbara.”

  “Liam,” she said. “I’m so sorry about your godfather. How was the funeral?”

  “Small.” He cut off any additional sympathy.

  “It would still hurt to lose the man who brought you up.” She took a breath. “I’m not pushing, but when do you think you’ll be back in the studio?”

  He was done here. “I’ll complete the voice-overs next week.”

  “Great.”

  Liam stared out at Kilkee Bay. The waves were gentle this evening. So different from the racket in his head. He smiled. “I have a proposal for my next project.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  The single most important component of a camera is the twelve inches behind it.

  Ansel Adams

  “FITZGERALD HOUSE,” DOLLEY SAID.

  “I’m hoping to book a long term stay.” The man on the phone had a delicious Irish accent. “I tried to book online, but wasn’t successful.”

  “I can certainly help you.” Dolley closed her eyes. Yum. She could listen to this man’s voice for hours. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she logged in to the reservation system. “When will you arrive?”

  “December fifteenth through...the twenty-fifth of March.”

  A three-and-a-half month stay? Dolley bit her lip, afraid she’d blurt out hot damn. She loved being the sister who caught these calls. She searched for available rooms, then it hit her. “Oh, dear. We close the week between Christmas and New Year’s.”

  “You’re closed?” Papers rustled on the line. “Is there any way I could...incentivize you to let me stay?”

  A three-and-a-half month reservation was a pretty big incentive, especially since Carleton House was opening next year. “How many people in your party?” she asked, trying to stall while she figured out what to do.

  “Just me until mid-February. Then I’ll bring in my film crew.”

  “Film crew?” This guy was in the movies? “How many rooms would you need?”

  “Three more, beginning, let’s say, February 20 through March 25.”

  If she was a swooning woman, she’d be dropping to the floor. What a perfect way to open Carleton House.

  But they weren’t open over Christmas.

  After Mamma opened the B and B, she’d always insisted they celebrate Christmas as a family. Dolley drummed her fingers on the desktop. Just last week, she and her sisters had agreed to stick with Mamma’s tradition.

  But this was a three-and-a-half month reservation. With more rooms starting in February. Dolley shook her head. This booking was not going to a competitor.

  Maybe Abby would make an exception. Bess, their other sister, would agree with Abby.

  “I’ll talk with my partners, but I think we can work something out. It might not include breakfast, afternoon tea or wine tasting during the week we’re closed. Would that be a problem?”

  “Hmm. Would I be able to eat elsewhere?”

  “Absolutely.” She’d personally create a list of open restaurants for him. “I’d be happy to set up reservations for you and your party during the holidays.”

  The grandfather clock at the end of the foyer ticked like a slow metronome, filling the long silence.

  “I’ll be alone.” His tone was soulful, like he didn’t have anyone in the world.

  No family during Christmas? Now she definitely had to convince Abby to make an exception.

  “Let me get your information.”

  She wrote everything down. Liam Delaney. Even his name was drool-worthy. “After I check with my partners, I’ll call you back.”

  Dolley danced down the hallway to the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door. Abby handled all the breakfasts, teas and appetizers offered by the B and B. Eighty percent of the time she could find her sister baking or cooking.

  She was in luck. Abby stood next to the counter on her phone.

  “Dolley walked in.” Abby waved her closer. “She’ll know.”

  Dolley moved to the counter.

  Her sister pushed the speaker button and set the phone down. “Mamma wants to know how many more beds we need for Carleton House.”

  “Hey, Mamma.” Dolley rested her head on her hand.

  “Hi, sweetie. Aunt CeCe and I have been having fun hitting antique stores and estate sales. We found some great Victorian bed frames and one tester, but I couldn’t remember how many more beds we need. Also, are we still looking for lamps?”

  The smile in Mamma’s voice had Dolley grinning. Her newlywed mother sounded so excited. “Great-Aunt CeCe is shopping with you?”

  “Her arthritis is better in the morning. We’ve gotten in the habit of hitting the stores early.” Mamma lowered her voice. “She loves feeling useful and spending money. If she could, she’d shop all day.”

  “Let me think.” Dolley closed her eyes and pictured the inventory spreadsheet on her computer. She’d updated it last week. “Six more beds. Bess added a request for four small bookcases for the upstairs parlors. Two pairs.”

  “We did find bookcases.” Mamma’s voice brimmed with energy. “Aunt CeCe, were those bookcases in pairs?”

  There was a quiet conversation between Mamma and Cece.

  “We’ll go back to that store and put the bookcases on hold. We think there was at least one matching pair. And lamps?”

  Dolley scrolled down the spreadsheet in her mind. “We need a dozen table lamps and we’d take floor lamps, too.”

  “Good. There was an estate sale today that had wonderful lamps. We put holds on the nice ones. I’ll take pictures and send them to you. Love to all.”

  Abby ended the call. She and Dolley looked at each other and laughed.

  “I’m glad Mamma volunteered, or we’d be running all over Georgia and the Carolinas looking for furniture,” Abby said.

  “It sounds like Aunt CeCe’s having a great time, too.” Dolley spotted a tray of sweets. “Anything to eat in here?”

  Abby waved at the counter. “Leftovers from tea.”

  Dolley snapped up a sandwich and grabbed a plate off the stack. Deviled ham? Worked for her. Anything her sister made was delicious. She could chew and mull over how to approach Abby.

  Abby stood in front of an open fridge with the inventory list Dolley had designed for her. “Did you need something?”

  “I stopped in to say hello to the Scrapbooking Sister group I booked.” Dolley dusted the crumbs off her fingers and took a deep breath. “What do you think about another long-term stay?”

  Abby wiggled her fingers, engagement ring sparkling. “I sure liked the last one.”<
br />
  “Yeah, yeah. You got a fiancé out of it.” Dolley moved to the coffeepot and poured a mug. “He’s not asking for dinner, so I don’t think Gray has to worry you’ll fall for another man.”

  Abby bumped her shoulder and took a sip of Dolley’s coffee. Her sister’s gaze softened. “Gray never has to worry about that.”

  Dolley rolled her eyes. Her sister and Gray were in love. Sickeningly so. She was happy for her sister, but why couldn’t she find her own guy?

  “Back to business.” Dolley snapped her fingers in front of Abby’s silly smile. “Three-and-a-half months. He hasn’t asked for a discount. And he’ll need three more rooms starting February 20 until March 25.”

  “Four rooms.” Abby straightened. “I say yes. Absolutely.”

  “So do I.” Dolley took back her coffee. “It would include the week of Christmas.”

  “Christmas?” Abby’s shoulders sank. “We’re closed.”

  “I told him. He’s willing to work something out and just wants to make sure he can get meals someplace.”

  Abby paced to the sitting area. “One person, or is he bringing someone else?”

  “Just him.” Dolley sighed. “The poor man says he’ll be alone during the holidays.”

  “Alone during Christmas?” Abby jerked around to look at her.

  Dolley nodded.

  Her sister twisted her ring. “We agreed to keep our Christmas break just last week.”

  “I know.”

  “Is there something unusual about him?” Abby pointed a finger at her. “Did you Google him?”

  “No.” But she would. She wanted to know about Mr. Liam Delaney of the sexy voice. “He just said he’d be alone.”

  She sighed again, trying to tug on Abby’s tender heart. “How sad not to have a place to go during the holidays. I’m so lucky to work with my sisters and have Mamma within spitting distance.”

  “Of course we’ll take him.” Abby took Dolley’s hand. “And he’ll have his breakfast, too. For the week we’re closed, he can eat in the kitchen like Gray did.”

  “You’re so good-hearted.” Dolley brushed a kiss on Abby’s cheek. “I’ll call him back.”

  Abby frowned. “Did you just play me?”

  Dolley snagged one more sandwich. “Never.”

  Abby’s eyes narrowed. “Just for that, you tell Bess.”

  “Will do.” Dolley grinned. She wasn’t looking forward to shoehorning a massive reservation into their clunky booking system. But at least she could listen to Liam Delaney’s gorgeous accent again.

  * * *

  LIAM TAPPED THE floor with his foot. He knew he would get the go ahead. He had to.

  But he’d had project ideas shot down before.

  So here he was...waiting...and worrying. The idea of this Savannah documentary had grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go.

  During the week Barbara was taking his idea for final approval, he’d stopped in New York. Something he’d never done before.

  Liam stared out at the silver forest of buildings flanked by turbulent skies. December snowflakes floated through the air, waiting to drop and join the gray slush blanketing New York City. Even standing in his producer’s office, he couldn’t clear the petrol smell from his nose. In Kilkee, at least he’d been able to smell the bay.

  He paced from the window to the door. And back again. His anxiousness wasn’t normal.

  The office door burst open. Barbara called out, “I’ve got your approval.”

  He let out a sigh, sinking into a chair. “I knew you could do it.”

  Barbara tossed a red cardigan on her desk. Big red flowers covered her black dress.

  “I might have promised them my firstborn.” Her black hair swung around her chin. “I didn’t tell them he was turning thirteen.”

  He shook his head in mock horror. She doted on her son, David.

  “Can I pick my crew?” he asked.

  “You’ve got Jerry. I’m working on the rest.” She leaned against her desk. “Legal revised the consent form we want you to use.”

  Liam rolled his eyes. “Again?”

  “Yes.” Barbara slipped around her desk and slid into her chair. “Make sure to grab copies from Samantha.”

  “Lovely.” He hated explaining that people were signing away their rights—forever. “I’d like to take a portable video camera with me.”

  “Talk to Samantha.” Barbara fingered the stack of pink phone slips. “Are we still on for lunch with Toni and Mark?”

  “Yes, they confirmed.” His agent and manager had both approved the contracts, pending project approval.

  He paced in front of the window. This was happening. He had his excuse to head to Savannah.

  “You’re pushing hard on this one.” Barbara tipped her head. “Why?”

  “The place I’ll stay in Savannah is run by the Fitzgerald family.”

  “FitzGerald. Like your godfather?”

  “Yes.” Returning to her guest chair, he tapped his fingers on the wooden back. “The only way I could get my hands on Seamus’s cameras was to agree to take some letters to them.”

  She frowned, leaning back in her chair. “Is this why you suggested this documentary?”

  “Not originally.” Liam stuck his hands in his pockets. “But when I checked the sisters and Savannah out, I was intrigued.”

  “Sisters?” His producer raised her eyebrows. “How pretty are they?”

  “Not in that way.” Although Dolley’s face was...engaging. He’d toyed with the idea of including her family in the documentary, but didn’t know how the story would unfold or if they would fit his premise. “What did you think of the title, Savannah’s Irish Roots?”

  She smiled and nodded. “We’ll test it.”

  That was the best he could ask for. “Good.”

  “Since you’re this side of the pond, why don’t you spend Christmas with us?” Barbara asked.

  “I’d rather be in Savannah than up here in the cold.” He shivered.

  Barbara shook her head. “You shouldn’t spend Christmas alone.”

  “Holidays don’t mean much to me.” He couldn’t let them. “Even when I was in boarding school, Seamus usually left me there.”

  “The old scrooge.” Her tone was incensed. “You deserved better.”

  “I survived.” He crossed his legs. He’d learned how to fit in and ingratiate himself with the other students. “School chums invited me home for the holidays.”

  “That’s just wrong.” Barbara sighed. “Come to my house. You should be around people who care about you.”

  “I’ll think on it.” Now that he had his approval, he wanted to immerse himself in the Irish stories of Savannah and dig into the research.

  And he wanted to meet his shirttail relatives, the Fitzgeralds. How should he play this?

  It was boarding school all over again.

  * * *

  DOLLEY PULLED THE cork on another bottle of wine, and it opened with a pop. The tart aroma mingled with the pine of the Christmas tree in the corner. Evergreen boughs on the mantel and the spicy appetizers added to the incredible smells filling the library.

  It wasn’t Dolley’s night to host the wine tasting, but since Abby’s fiancé was back in town, she’d volunteered. Abby had jumped at the chance to spend time with Gray. Her sister hadn’t even noticed Dolley’s new dress.

  Dolley had planned to volunteer anyway. Mr. Liam Delaney was checking in tonight. The voice. She tugged on her hem. The black dress hugged her curves but kept creeping up. It was probably better for clubbing than for the B and B, but—Liam Delaney. Enough said.

  Online, she’d found a wealth of information on their guest. When she grew up, she wanted to be Liam Delaney. He was a documentary filmmaker and a p
hotographer. Envy shot through her. His body of work was amazing. He’d traveled the world, linking his photography to his films. She planned to pick his brain about his career, without being creepy.

  She checked the flames under the chafing dish and opened the last bottle of wine.

  Her one claim to photography fame was the picture of her mother. And she hadn’t even told her sisters she’d won the contest. Somehow the words just wouldn’t leave her mouth.

  Abby and Bess were so talented. One picture was nothing compared to what her sisters had accomplished in their careers, Abby in the kitchen and Bess with her landscaping.

  A honeymoon couple walked into the library, arm in arm. The newlyweds had stayed at Fitzgerald House for the last few days.

  “How was your day?” Dolley asked.

  “We kayaked off Tybee Island.” The bride massaged her upper arm.

  “Did you get to the salt marshes?” Dolley asked.

  The groom nodded. “Almost had to pull Gretchen across the bay. There was a little chop, but we got there.”

  Now she remembered their names. Gretchen and Denny.

  The couple headed to the wines and food. Tonight’s offerings were from Germany: a Riesling, a pinot gris and pinot noir. She sampled the red. Not bad. She checked the cards Abby created for the appetizers. Then she took a plate and added pork turnovers, pretzels, warm German potato salad and barbequed kielbasa. She skipped the sauerkraut crepes.

  Checking the food layout one more time, she headed to the foyer. Her heels echoed on the marble floor. She would let the guests enjoy their wine and keep an eye out for Liam, the last guest checking in tonight.

  She skirted the foyer table. Her sister, Bess, had designed a tower of poinsettias shaped like a Christmas tree. The red-and-pink leaves sparkled with glitter. Another Christmas tree twinkled in the front window. They’d decorated seventeen trees in the House this year, a new record.

  She took a seat at the Queen Anne secretary they used as a reception desk.

  The front door opened, and she started to stand.

  It was another honeymoon couple. They waved and headed toward the library.

  Dolley sank back into her chair. What if Mr. Delaney didn’t show? That would hurt. He’d eventually asked for a discount, but they were still going to clear a tidy profit from his stay. She’d held firm that they couldn’t discount rooms during the St. Patrick’s Day festivities. They had to maintain their prices during high season.