by Nan Dixon
Abby rubbed a hand on her back. “That’s not true.”
Dolley tipped her head. “Even Martin assumed I didn’t have any talent.”
“He doesn’t know you,” Abby said. “Everything you do, you do well.”
“Don’t whitewash it.” Dolley shook her head. “No one ever praises me like they do you guys.”
“But you’re so talented,” Bess insisted. “What you do with the website and the blog is magic. No one else could do what you do. And your pictures are stunning.”
She snorted. Liam had taken credit for her best work.
“Liam always tells us how good you are.” Abby poked her shoulder. “Why do you think your website work isn’t creative?”
“It just isn’t.” Dolley paced back to the fireplace. Her sisters were being kind.
“You’re so stubborn you can’t see your own talent.” Abby’s lips pressed together.
Dolley stared at Abby and Bess. “I learned that trait from my older sisters.”
“When do you have to let them know?” Bess asked.
Dolley pushed back a curl from her eye. “I asked to have through St. Patrick’s Day.”
“Oh, sit down,” Abby said. “Drink your wine.”
Dolley took a seat, but left her wine on the table. Her stomach was churning.
Bess took her hand. “What do you want to do?”
Had either of her sisters ever asked that question? Sure, they’d used the same phrases, but it was always about Fitzgerald or Carleton House decisions. They’d never once asked what she wanted to do with her life.
Could she give up working with her sisters, give up Savannah, all for a dream that might never come true?
She blurted out, “I don’t know.”
* * *
LIAM FLUBBED THE script he and Sonjia had crafted—twice. His concentration was shot.
Where was Dolley? She’d sent a text saying she would meet the crew on River Street. It wasn’t that her taking pictures of these shoots was that crucial; it’s that he hadn’t seen her all day. He wanted to know how her conversation with Barb had gone. What she’d thought about the job offer.
“Why don’t you rearrange these sentences?” Sonjia suggested. “They’re twisting your tongue.”
He tried it. Repeated the phrase that he’d mucked up. “That works.”
“Ready for another go?” she asked.
He nodded. “Once more.”
Jerry re-shouldered the camera.
Tom held the microphone and counted backward from five. The last two numbers were hand signals.
“It’s a quiet night on Savannah’s River Street, but by March 17, a quarter of a million people will invade this city.”
He walked down the steps where Dolley had tripped, where he’d carried her back to the B and B. Walked and talked about the original shipwrecked Irish immigrants. The shipping industry. The flagstone that had come from England as ballast and colonists had reused to pave the streets.
He stopped, then looked at Sonjia.
“Good,” she said.
Moving down the street, they set up again. Would Dolley know where to find them?
This time he talked about the Fitzgeralds. “James Fitzgerald’s warehouse stood here. He was instrumental in helping his countrymen and women get their start in America.”
They retaped the segment. Then he practiced while Jerry panned the nighttime scene of River Street.
“Sorry I’m late.” Dolley’s voice came from behind him.
He spun toward her, a smile blooming on his face.
“I was starting to worry.” He scanned her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed. “Are you okay?”
She crossed her arms and rocked back and forth. “I’m not sure.”
He took her elbow, stilling her. “What’s wrong?”
Dolley glanced over at his crew and the people who’d stopped to watch the filming. “Later.”
“Okay.” He cupped her chin, letting his thumb trace the apple of her cheek. He didn’t like the confusion in her eyes.
She pulled out her camera and took shots of Jerry and Tom as they prepped. Then focused on him and Sonjia while they reviewed the next scene.
They worked their way down the street, taping and shooting. The final shoot was in front of Kevin Barry’s Pub. They were late enough that the music had started. Liam hoped the microphone would pick up the sound as he talked about the history of Kevin and the pub.
“That’s a wrap.” Sonjia smiled. “Convenient that we ended right in front of a pub.”
Liam laughed. “Karma?”
“Good planning,” Sonjia said. “Want to stop for a pint?”
“I’m in,” Tom said, wrapping a cord around his arm. Jerry nodded.
“My plan,” Sonjia said. “You buy the first round.”
With the light no longer blinding him, he could see Dolley hanging in the background. She shook her head.
“I’ll take a rain check. Anything you want me to haul back to the B and B?”
Jerry handed off the camera bag. Dolley took another from Tom. Then his crew disappeared into the bar.
“You sure you’ve got that?” he asked Dolley.
“It’s not heavy.” She headed toward the steps up to Bay Street.
She was too quiet.
“Do you want to talk now?” he asked, dreading her answer.
“Let’s get rid of the equipment.”
They waited for a few cars, then crossed Bay and moved through the historic district’s serene streets.
“You’re good at that,” she said, breaking their silence.
“At what?”
“Telling the tales. Making people understand what you’re talking about.” She pointed behind them. “I can only imagine how much more sincere you will come across on camera.”
“The gift of the Irish.” He shrugged off her compliment, but warmth filled him. People had admired his work before, but not someone close. Dolley’s compliment meant more.
“It’s a collaboration,” he added. Was that pressing the issue on the photos too much?
“I mean it. I know you photograph well, I’ve taken hundreds of pictures of you. But I’m guessing the camera will pick up your...intensity. Sincerity?” She searched for the right word. “Passion. It’s your passion.”
This time he didn’t shrug it off. “Thank you. It means a lot coming from another artist.”
She kicked at a rock in the sidewalk. “I’m a website designer, not an artist.”
Was that why she was so quiet? Instead of being happy about the job offer, Barb had offended her? He gritted his teeth. “You are an artist.”
She shook her head.
If she didn’t know how good she was, how could he convince her? He thought having her picture in the publicity pieces would help, but that effort had fallen on its face, hadn’t it?
They headed into Carleton House. “I’ll drop the bags in my room. Do you want to come up? Or head to your apartment and I’ll join you?”
“I...I think I’ll have a Jameson.” Her gaze darted any place but looking him in the eye. “Join me in the library.”
“Sure.” He took the bag she’d carried. A chill shook his body. Didn’t she want to be together tonight? Was she getting ready to tell him to bugger off?
His chest tightened. He couldn’t lose what they’d started to build. He’d finally found a home. His fingers clenched the railing’s smooth wood.
He couldn’t lose everything now. No feckin’ way.
He set the bags in his room. Running his fingers through his hair, he took a deep breath. There had to be something he could do to keep Dolley from jettisoning him from the life he wanted.
He paced the length of the r
oom and stared out the window at the gardens starting to bud. He wanted to be here to see them bloom.
There had to be a way. He wasn’t letting the Fitzgeralds get away.
In the bathroom, he splashed water on his face. He’d watch, wait and figure out what Dolley needed from him. It was what he’d always done to survive.
Carleton House was quieter than Fitzgerald House. No one passed him on the stairs as he headed down. On the main floor, he waved to the cleaning staff working in the dining room.
The doors to the library were open, but Dolley was alone.
She’d curled into an armchair in front of the flickering fire. Her shoes were on the floor, her feet tucked under her. A tumbler dangled from her fingers.
But it was her face that kept him from entering the room. Her eyes, normally dancing, were shadowed and dark.
She glanced up and nodded. No smile.
Nervous, he headed to the sideboard and poured a shot from the decanter. Taking the other chair set in front of the fire, he said, “You look so solemn.”
A weak smile flashed across her lips. “Thinking.”
“Barb said she loved the website, so what’s wrong?” He held out his hand, needing to touch her. If Barb hadn’t offered her a job, he didn’t want to say anything.
She reached between the two chairs, but only their fingertips met.
Her hands slipped away, slapping the leather chair with a soft woomp. “Barb offered me a job.”
He slid the chair closer and touched her hand. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
“As a website designer.” She spat the words out. “The only good thing is the job would have me living in New York. I’d work between there, LA and probably London.”
Ice formed in his belly. “You’d leave Savannah?”
“Yes.”
“But—” he dropped her hand and paced to the fireplace “—this is your home. This is where your family lives. Barb should let you work from here.”
Her green gaze sharpened. “You knew about this?”
“She mentioned it this morning.” He pressed his temple. The dream of being part of the Fitzgerald family was slipping away. “You can work remotely, right?”
“You think I want to be a website designer?” She set her glass down with a clang and stood.
“I know you want to be a photographer, but you’ve been doing designs, right?”
She crossed her arms. “You don’t think I can cut it as a photographer?”
“No.” He hurried to her, catching her elbows. “I mean, yes, you can. Of course you can.”
She backed away from him.
He held up his hands like she was a hot stove. He was losing her. “I mean, you’re already a photographer.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I put your picture in the articles because they’re good,” he said.
She pointed a finger at him. “And your name came first. I wasn’t even mentioned in the article.”
“How many times do I have to apologize? I tried to help you.”
She held up her hands, shaking her head. “When you think of me working, what comes to mind?”
“Land mines,” he said under his breath. He was going to step on one and have it explode in his face.
“What?”
“I...I don’t try and put you in a...pocket. I see you first as a...Fitzgerald, a successful businesswoman. A woman who’s part of an incredible family.”
She closed her eyes. “Don’t.”
He closed the gap that was growing between them. “I also see you as a budding photographer, absorbing everything I can teach you.”
“Budding. Student.” Her words choked out.
“And talented.” He reached for her again.
Pain-filled green eyes looked up at him. “No one sees that but you.”
“Because everything you touch is gold. And, yes, you’re an amazing website designer.” His words poured out. “But that’s because of the creative way you view the world. You see the world through the lens of an artist.”
She sank back into the chair. “Like I said, no one sees that but you.”
“But they will.”
“Not if I move to New York and design websites.”
“Then don’t.” His hands formed into fists.
“But...”
“Tell Barb you’ll take the job but only if you can stay here.” With him. “You can head up there when necessary.”
“But...”
He wasn’t going to let her line up her arguments.
“Stay here. With me.” He knelt at her feet. “I’ve fallen in love with your family, with Savannah.” He clutched her knees. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You...you’re what?” she squeaked.
He huffed out a breath. “I...I think I’m falling in love with you. Stay here with me and your incredible family.”
Her eyes were big green marbles. She gripped the chair arms as if her body would blow away in the storm. “I...I...”
His heart pounded in his chest. “I know you feel something.”
“But...” She pushed deep into her chair. Trying to get away from him?
He rocked back to his feet. “I thought you might feel the same. Was I fooling myself?” His voice growled a little.
“Liam. I...” She wouldn’t look him in the eye.
She was pushing him away. He shook his head.
He’d misread her. Made tactical errors. Let his need for what she had, what he could be a part of rush him into a confession he wasn’t even sure was true. Did he love Dolley?
“I don’t know what I feel.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach and curled into a ball. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what’s good for me.”
“We can work together.”
“I’d always be in your shadow.”
“But how can you leave your family, your friends?” What else could he use to convince her that she shouldn’t move to New York? “Don’t throw us away. I can’t lose another family.”
“Family?” Her eyes flared open. “This is about my family, not me.”
“What?” Panic churned in his chest.
“I’m just a...a way for you to become part of the Fitzgeralds.” Her breath shook. “You don’t want me. You want...them.”
“Dolley.” He pounded on his forehead with his fist. “We’re good together. I can teach you more. We’ll figure it out. But not if you move.”
“I’d be your apprentice. Always overlooked. You’d use me to get what you’ve always wanted...a family.” Injured green eyes looked up into his. “That’s not what I want. I...I deserve more. When would I get to travel? When would I get my dreams? I want my own career. Not just to be an extension of yours.”
“I thought we were a team. I care about you!”
“Not enough,” she whispered.
Pain ripped through him. He wasn’t enough for her. She wanted travel and recognition. She wanted to rip up the roots anchoring her to Savannah and leave.
If she left, where did that leave him?
She didn’t care about him. She cared about what he could do for her career. He didn’t matter.
“You only wanted me for what I could do for you.” Shaking his head, he moved to the door, his feet and heart heavy. “I’m never enough.”
* * *
WHAT JUST HAPPENED? Dolley laid her cheek on her knees. Was Liam right?
She’d been confused about Barb’s job offer, and Liam had shown his true colors. Just like every other man she’d dated, he was using her to get something he wanted. A sharp pain wracked her body. This time it had been her family.
No one wanted her. And his offer to stay an
d live in his shadow? How could she become a recognized artist like that?
Her throat ached like she’d swallowed a wad of paper and it was sucking up all her spit. Grabbing her glass, she took a sip. The whiskey burned a path to her stomach.
She pressed her palms into her eyes. No one would use her again. She and Liam were through.
How could he even say I’ve fallen in love with Savannah, with your family?
If he did love her, it was a distant third behind her family and Savannah. Her body ached like she’d been pummeled in a boxing ring.
But she was in love with him. Her chest shook. How stupid was that?
The front door opened, footsteps echoing in the hall.
She rubbed her wet cheeks against her sleeve and grabbed her coat, not wanting a guest to find her. Escaping through the courtyard door, she wound her way through the patio furniture and headed to her apartment.
Habit had her glancing up to Liam’s room. A shadow against the second-floor French door made her freeze.
He stared down at her. Even from here, she could see his clenched jaw and hooded eyes. The connection that sizzled when she looked at him—was gone. Pain hollowed out her heart.
She didn’t know how long she waited for a sign from him. Ten seconds? Ten minutes?
He jerked away from the window and turned his back.
It was a sucker punch, knocking the breath out of her. Rejected again.
She stumbled to the apartment, tears filling her eyes. She would not cry.
Fumbling with the lock, she pushed inside and collapsed on the sofa.
She hadn’t done anything wrong. Now she was the bad guy? How had that happened?
She had a right to be confused about accepting Barb’s job offer. She had a right to question whether Liam was using her to acquire a family.
She had a right to have someone love her like her sisters and her mother were loved.
Abby, Bess and Mamma weren’t loved because they were Fitzgeralds and lived in Savannah. There were no conditions on Gray’s, Daniel’s and Martin’s love.
The only man who’d cared enough to date her, wanted her for her family.
She deserved more.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A picture is a poem without words.
