by Nan Dixon
“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.”
