Through a Magnolia Filter (23 page)

“I've never stolen a picture in my life.” His lips formed a straight line. “I told them to put our names on the pictures.”

“How can you take credit for a picture you never took?”

“Because we work together.” He pushed his hair back. “Because I helped you edit your photos. My name will give you a leg up.” He threw the covers back and sat up. “That's what you wanted, right? My help in getting your name out there?”

“Any picture I take, you can claim?”

“I asked you today.” He pushed off the bed and stood. “You were bloody excited.”

“But...” Is this how it was done? When she'd agreed to be an apprentice, he could do something this...this vile?

He came closer. “I thought you'd appreciate using my name to get noticed. We worked together on all the pictures I sent in.”

“Because you made one small suggestion for a change in a picture I took?” She couldn't keep the doubt from her voice.

Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the bed.

“You're my apprentice.” He sounded so damned reasonable.

Swallowing hard, she whispered, “I assumed it would be my name.”

He sank next to her on the bed. “I thought you knew what I was asking this afternoon.”

She should get up, get away from him. But everything inside crumbled. “I didn't.”

He swore. “I'm trying to help you.”

“It doesn't feel like it.” Her throat ached from holding back tears.

“Luv.” He slid closer and tugged her head so her cheek rested on his bare chest. “I was thrilled when my mentor did the same thing.”

She should pull away, but her muscles had filled with lead.

“I'm sorry you misunderstood.” He hesitated before brushing a kiss on her forehead.

She wanted to believe him.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, anchoring her to his warmth.

“I wanted to do something nice for you.” He tugged her onto his lap. “And now I've hurt you.”

She couldn't talk. If she did, the stupid tears would fall. She burrowed into his chest.

He rocked her like she was a child. Maybe she was just as naïve. Is this really how things worked for an apprentice?

“Let's get you in bed.”

He tucked her in. Shutting off the light, he slid in behind her. He brushed a kiss on the top of her head. “Sleep, luv.”

She stared at the curtains, unable to shut her eyes.

He thought she'd misunderstood.

But these were
her
pictures.

Had he done it on purpose?

She hated her doubts. Hated that she wasn't sure an apprenticeship equated to taking credit for her work.

Hated that she just might be falling in love with Liam. Her chest tightened. And if he wasn't telling the truth, this was betrayal.

* * *

H
AD
HE
MISLED
HER
?
Liam wished he had Dolley's phenomenal memory to replay their conversation.

Sharing credit wasn't a bad thing. He'd done it before.

But Dolley's sparkle had vanished in the last two days.

Sonjia rapped on the table. “Are you with us?”

“Yes, right.”

She slid a piece of paper down to him. “Here's today's shooting schedule.”

Before he could review the list, his phone buzzed. He turned his back on the morning staff meeting.

“We're getting excellent buzz on the interviews,” Barb said without saying hello.

“That's good.” But he couldn't fake enthusiasm for something driving him and Dolley apart. “Did you look at Dolley's latest website mockup?”

“Fabulous. Where has she been hiding all this time?”

“In plain sight in Savannah.” He heard the pride in his voice. Dolley was talented at everything she did.

“I've gotten the go-ahead to offer her a job,” Barb said.

“You have?” He straightened. Would Dolley take a job working for Barb? Would that be good or bad for their relationship?

“She's got more creativity than any website designers we've worked with before,” Barb said. “I want her working for us and not our competition.”

“Good luck.” After Barb hung up, he set his phone on the table.

Maybe a job offer would get him and Dolley back on track. Because for the last two days he felt like he was on trial, with a guilty sign hanging around his neck.

Her withdrawal hadn't stopped them from being together the last couple of nights. But he hated the speculative looks she shot his way.

Last night he'd dreamed he lived in Savannah—with Dolley. Her large extended family had visited their house and he was host. The Foresters, Cheryl and her son, the people from the wedding had all shown up in his dream. He'd awakened with a smile.

He wanted that dream to become reality.

Everything clicked into place. This was where he belonged. Savannah. With the Fitzgeralds. This was what he wanted. To be part of the craziness and joy surrounding their family.

He turned back to the table.

“How's the script?” Sonjia asked.

He forced his head back into the work at hand. “I've made changes. Tell me what you think.”

He grabbed the correct folder.

She flipped through his handwritten notes. “These are good. I'll finalize and print.”

“I think we should tape down on River Street, while the crowds are light,” Jerry said. “Then we'll have a comparison with the holiday crowds.”

Liam checked the shooting schedule for the day. “Are we trying to get there today?”

“Dolley thought an evening shot would have more atmosphere. I've slotted it for tonight.”

“Okay.”

Tom flashed some media badges. “We've got what we need to film the crowds for the actual holiday.”

Things were coming together like a perfect picture materializing in a darkroom.

Him. Savannah. The Fitzgeralds. Dolley.

Yes.

* * *

D
OLLEY
MADE
THE
final adjustments to the documentary website. The pages winked from the three monitors she had active in front of her.

The site would continue to change, but Barb's staff was capable of handling updates.

She pushed away from the desk she'd set up in the apartment's extra bedroom. Bending forward, she stretched her aching lower back.

What was Liam doing now? She checked the printed schedule on her desk.

He should be finishing a staff meeting. Then there was an interview with another family helped by James and Fiona Fitzgerald.

Lately, all she'd worked on was the documentary. Liam had bumped her hours again. She'd poured hours into his research, helped with scripts, suggested spots to shoot and he took credit for her work.

Her photos had been out for two days, the pictures the world thought were a collaboration between her and Liam.

She swallowed the sour taste in her mouth. He'd never mentioned her in the article. Maybe her talent wasn't strong enough to stand on its own.

The purpose of pursuing the apprenticeship had been to escape her sisters' brilliance. Nothing had changed. She still faded into the background, except now she was stuck in Liam's shadow.

Her thoughts were ugly. Was she only dating Liam for what he could do for her new career? It made her sound like a...a gold digger. A user. Like the men she'd dated. And exactly what Courtney had accused her of being.

Snatching her mug from the desk, she took a swig. Cold.

In the kitchen, she flipped on the kettle. Why couldn't she focus on how generous Liam had been with his talents and mentoring and stop wanting more?

While the water heated, she picked up a travel magazine. On the cover, a bikini-clad woman rested on the beach. The blue of the water was achingly beautiful. A rock set in the upper left drew the eye to the distance.

Other than beauty, she didn't get an emotion from the picture. Liam would have tossed it. She flipped through the pages. Instead of reading the articles, she examined the pictures. Some had been taken by a photojournalist, some articles had both a reporter and photographer.

She could do both. The blog had taught her how to keep her audience interested. Longing whipped through her. When she pictured her life in ten years, it included a passport filled with stamps from countries she'd never heard of and pictures of people and places where she didn't speak the language.

First, she had to get a passport.

The kettle boiled, and she added water to the teapot, then filled her mug.

Back in her office, she took one more pass through the website and checked the mobile version. She was happy with her work and she'd beaten the deadline by two days.

Time to ship it to Barb.

Just as she hit Send, her cell rang.

Liam?
She kicked herself. How needy was she?

Instead, it was Barbara. “Hi, Barb.”

“Dolley. How's it going?”

“I just sent you the website for approval.”

“Wow. You're good. Don't forget to copy Samantha.”

Dolley smiled. “Already done.”

“Excellent.” There was a small tapping noise in the background, like a fingernail on ceramic. What was up?

“I really like your work,” Barb said.

“Thank you.”

“How would you like to take on all Wonderment, Inc.'s website work? Full-time.”

A small thrill pulsed through her. Barb liked her work enough to offer her a job.

But it wasn't the job she wanted. Her body slumped.

“We'd help you find an apartment in New York. You'd have full control of the websites. I understand you made security change suggestions on the hosting service.”

Butterflies danced in her belly. “You'd want me to move to New York?”

“That's where the job is,” Barb said. “I'd like you to look at our old sites and revise them to get better hits and accessibility. You'd spend time in our LA office, too.”

She couldn't get over the idea of moving to New York. And working between LA and New York. Her head spun like she wasn't getting enough oxygen.

“We also have a London office. But we'd want you to get your feet wet on the North America productions first.”

London? She let her head sink onto the back of the chair, her phone clenched in a death grip. “I...I...”

“Why don't I send you the list of websites so you know what's in front of you? And I'll send you this quarter's projects.” Barb added, “We've done this all with contract help, but I've convinced the partners it's better to bring you onboard, and you can create your own department.”

“I'd have staff?”

Barb laughed. “When I send you the list of sites, you'll understand why. We have a lot of upcoming projects.”

“I appreciate the offer.”

“Then let's talk money.” Barb named a figure that had Dolley tucking her head between her knees.

When that wasn't enough to stop her head spins, she slid out of the chair and lay flat on the floor.

“Say you'll think about it,” Barb said.

“I'll think about it.” She rubbed the tension in her jaw. “This is a busy time for my family's B and B. Is it okay if I let you know after we get through St. Patrick's Day?”

Barb's fingernails tapped out a rapid beat. “Sure. Why not.”

“Thank you, again.” She needed time to figure out her life.

“Great. I'll get Samantha to send those lists.”

“Thank you.”

After Barb hung up, Dolley let the phone slip out of her hands. New York. LA. London. The cities had slipped off Barb's tongue as easily as if she traveled there every week.

She stared at the ceiling. It was part of her dream.

But only part.

Could she start from there? Leapfrogging off this opportunity?

And what about her sisters and the B and B? It wasn't like what she contributed was that unique, but they would have to hire someone to do the bookkeeping. And the new reservation system was coming online after they survived the March craziness.

What would Liam think of her job offer? She sat up, wrapping her arms around her legs. Would this mean she would see more him or less? Wonderment produced all his films, but that didn't mean he would always do that.

She didn't want whatever she and Liam had begun to end. She'd never dated a man this long.

Her head pounded with questions.

Swiping her phone off the carpet, she called Abby. “We need a sisters' meeting tonight.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The photographer is like the cod which produces a million eggs in order that one may reach maturity.

George Bernard Shaw

“Y
OU
'
D
LIVE
IN
N
EW
Y
ORK
?”
Bess chewed on her thumbnail.

“Yes.” Dolley tapped her sister's hand and then paced the kitchen's sitting area. She'd been stewing about Barb's offer all day. “Although she talked about working with their LA team and possibly the London group.”

“New York.” Abby's eyes were huge. No smile creased her normally happy face. “You would love living there. You'd fit in.”

“I don't know about that.” Dolley waved a hand over her jeans and red top. “Everyone who works with Liam thinks black is the ultimate wardrobe choice.”

“So you'd stand out.” Bess leaned forward from her spot of the sofa. “You'd add a spark of color to their dull worlds. People would circle you like you were an exotic plant. Or a light and they're all moths.”

Dolley shook her head. “Don't moths eat clothes?”

Bess waved her hand. “You know what I mean.”

“But what about what we're building here?” Abby asked.

“You and Bess are the creative forces behind Fitzgerald and Carleton House.” She sank down onto the sofa. “What I do can be done by other people.”

“We're a team.” Abby's strawberry-blond ponytail shook back and forth. “And you're a valuable member of Team Fitzgerald.”

Dolley rolled her eyes. “I can monitor whoever we hire to pick up my slack. With Fitzgerald and Carleton House both running, our cash flow is stronger. I'd stop taking a draw.”

“You're an owner.” Abby rubbed her temples. “I can't picture the B and B without you.”

Dolley's stomach flipped. Would they want to buy out her B and B share? Her legacy?

Bess grabbed her hand. “I love seeing you every day.”

“You're both too busy with Gray and Daniel to miss me.” But Dolley swallowed. She saw her sisters almost every day. Even if it was hard living in the shadow of their accomplishments, they were her best friends. “All your gooey love eyes are making me sick.”

“What does Liam think?” Abby asked.

Dolley pulled on a loose thread on her jeans. “I haven't talked to him yet.”

“But you two are...” Bess wiggled her fingers.

“I wanted to talk to you first.”

And there was the difference between her older sisters and her. They had someone they loved who would always be first in their lives. Gray and Daniel put them first, too.

She wasn't sure where she and Liam stood or where they were going.

“So, what was the apprenticeship for?” Abby's forehead furrowed into a frown.

Dolley popped off the sofa again, unable to sit. “For my photography.”

“But they aren't hiring you as a photographer,” Bess said.

“No.” She shook her head. “But once I get my feet under me, I might be able to launch a career in photography in New York.”

Except she'd looked at the website list Samantha had sent. She had months of work ahead of her. And that was without the new projects.

Abby let out a puff of air. “Have you hated being tied to Fitzgerald House?”

“I...” Dolley shifted on her feet.

“I didn't realize.” Abby's face fell. “I'm so sorry.”

“I love working with you.” Dolley didn't want to hurt her family. “It's just... I want to travel and take pictures instead of build websites.”

“But isn't that what you'd be doing for them?” Bess asked.

Dolley swallowed. “But it would be in New York.”

“So Savannah is the problem,” Abby stated.

“Abby, you lived in New York.” Dolley pointed at Bess. “And you went to college in a different town. I stayed here.”

“And we've never taken vacations.” Abby twirled her wineglass between her fingers, but didn't take a sip.

“I love Savannah,” Dolley whispered.

“Then why don't you want to stay?” Bess asked.

Why?
“Because I'm the
other
Fitzgerald girl.” Dolley pressed her fingertips to her head. “I'm your sister here. Not Dolley Fitzgerald.”

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.”

* * *

L
IAM
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 room 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.”