by Nan Dixon
Ian held the door and walked Liam to his car. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Sure.” Not if he could help it. He wanted to be free of this place. And he definitely didn’t want to head to the manor. But he turned the car up the cliff road.
The house overlooking Kilkee Bay hadn’t changed. The blue-gray stone manor had dark, tiny inset windows framed with tan limestone. The faded red door wasn’t inviting. The roof was a sorrowful gray slate. Seamus had boasted all the stone had come from FitzGerald quarries.
Liam’s chest tightened as he parked in the drive. The loneliness of his childhood weighed down his shoulders.
The house could have been quaint or even elegant. It was neither. It was his worst horror. A place where he’d grieved his parents and no one had cared.
The flagstone drive, also from the quarries, muffled the strike of his shoes. He stopped in the courtyard, glaring at the house.
The door pulled open with a dull pop.
“Come in, come in.” Mrs. Needles waved him inside. “I’m sorry for your loss, Master Liam.”
“It’s just Liam.” No one had called him Master Liam since boarding school. “Thank you for your sympathy, but you worked for my godfather. You know we weren’t close.”
“Oh, how proud he was whenever one of your books came out.” She eased off his leather jacket and hung it on the tree before he could protest. “Mr. FitzGerald bragged on how he’d taught you everything you knew about photography.”
“He followed my career?” Liam blurted out.
“Oh, he did. Loved to boast about you down at the pub.” She patted his arm. “He wasn’t as keen on the documentaries, but he watched them all the same.”
This didn’t make any sense. When he hadn’t stayed in Kilkee, he and Seamus rarely talked.
“Seamus did love photography,” Liam said. The only thing he’d loved. And his godfather had made him slave long hours in the darkroom.
“He was proud of you. Come on back to the kitchen.” She tugged on his elbow. “I’ve just brewed a pot of tea.”
“I hadn’t planned on staying. I’m only here for the cameras.”
She ignored his reluctance, leading him down the dim, narrow hall. The lemon polish on the shining wood didn’t mask the musty smell of the old house.
“I’ve everything packed in a box and a few of your school things Mr. FitzGerald saved.” Her eyes twinkled. “You must have been a terror in school. There’s a number of notes from headmasters.”
She pushed open the kitchen door. Bright yellow curtains graced the windows.
“I can’t believe Seamus sprang for something new in this mausoleum,” he spat out.
She winked. “My mince pies got me those curtains.”
A peat fire burned on the grate, the pungent scent warming the room. Mrs. Needles poured two mugs as he settled in a chair in front of the hearth. Then she piled a plate with raspberry tarts and shortbread cookies.
This wasn’t the house he remembered. For once he felt...welcomed.
He took a bite of a crisp cookie. Buttery sugar melted in his mouth. Then he popped a tart in his mouth, the crust flaky and the jam sweet. “These are tops. If you’d been housekeeper when I was a child, I don’t think I’d have gotten in so much trouble at school.”
“If I’d been housekeeper, you would have behaved. I raised three boys from lads to men. I’m a grandmother three times.”
He let her ramble on about her children and sipped his strong black tea, feeling strangely at ease in a house he hated.
She walked into the breakfast room and came back with a box. “Are you sure you don’t want to look around the place? Identify things you’d like packed up? Maybe stay the night?”
“Thanks, no. I’m at the inn.” But for once, he was tempted to linger.
She pointed at the empty plate. “How about another cup of tea and a few more biscuits?”
“I’d like that.”
* * *
“ONCE MORE WITH FEELING,” Dolley called, reducing the f-stop on her camera.
Damian, the bar owner, rolled his eyes, but picked up a martini glass and pretended to hand the bright blue drink to Dolley’s coworker, Anne. On the dark wood bar sat two more cocktails, one electric pink and the other neon green.
Dolley made sure Anne, Damian, the drinks and the wall of gleaming bottles behind the bar were in focus. She snapped away. “Smile.”
Anne’s and Damian’s smiles were forced.
“Come on, think of something fun,” she suggested. “Like vacations or...sex.”
They both grinned. Exactly what she wanted. She captured a few more photos and then pulled the camera away. “Perfect.”
“Finally.” Damian dropped his elbows to the counter and heaved a sigh. “I’ve got thirsty customers to serve.”
Dolley caught a few more shots of Damian as he worked. He was so darn cute. And married. Oh, well. “You’ll have more customers once I update your website.”
She hoped the last pictures of Damian turned out. His dimpled grin would pull in tons of female customers.
“I can’t wait to see it.” Damian put the martinis he’d made for the photos on a tray, adding a clear martini. “Here. For your trouble.”
Anne grinned. “Thanks.”
Dolley grabbed her jacket. “I’ll send the website link in a couple of days.”
She and Anne took the tray out to the patio. It was a perfect October night in Savannah.
“I’m jealous you get to design websites and take pictures for them.” Anne sipped the bright blue drink. “Oh, this is delicious.”
“You could, too.”
“Have you seen my client list? Georgia Gravel Company. Chatham Reclamation.” Anne shook her head. “I’ll let them take their own pictures, thank you.”
“You have no sense of adventure. You could climb the gravel piles, wade through garbage.”
“Not happening.” Anne shook her head hard.
Dolley tasted the neon-green drink. “This one’s apple.”
“Let me try.” Anne took a sip. “That’s good.”
“Anything new at the office today?” Dolley asked.
“Be glad you worked from home.” Anne twirled her glass. “Jackson was on a rampage. We weren’t meeting deadlines. Clients were mad.” Anne shoved her gorgeous blond hair over her shoulder.
What Dolley wouldn’t give to have straight hair like her friend. Instead, her curls looked like she was auditioning for the lead role in Annie. “Glad I wasn’t there.”
“There has to be somewhere else to work.” Anne slumped in her chair.
“If you want to leave Savannah.”
Dolley sure did. She wanted to quit her job as website designer at Jackson Promotions and travel the world.
But she couldn’t. Her family’s bed-and-breakfast was a golden shackle around her ankle, chaining her, the invisible sister, to Savannah.
Dolley let Anne complain, nodding and humming in the right spots, but not really listening. Anne had at least spent a semester studying abroad. The farthest Dolley had gotten was a long weekend in New York City to visit her older sister.
The server hustled over with chips and salsa. “Boss says whatever you want is on the house.”
Dolley rubbed her hands together and looked at Anne. “Appetizers?”
“Most excellent idea.” Anne nodded.
They ordered wings, fried zucchini and mozzarella sticks. That ought to cover dinner.
“No more work talk.” Dolley held up her drink.
Anne sighed. “I’m in the mood to bitch.”
“Nope. How was your date last weekend?” Dolley asked.
Anne pouted. “I thought you didn’t want me bitching.”
Dolley
laughed. “I told you he wasn’t right for you.”
“You were right.” Anne waved her hand around the patio. “Pick someone.”
Dolley scanned the tables, lingering on a group of men gathered near the patio bar. “Nothing yet. I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“How was your date with Robert?” Anne asked.
Dolley grinned. “Apparently a lot better than yours.”
Anne grabbed her hand. “You slept with him? Tell all.”
“This was only date three.” Dolley shook her head. She’d learned to wait, hoping any man who made it to date four saw her as more than just a computer help desk or a friend with benefits.
“What did you do?”
Dolley tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “I helped him with some computer stuff.”
“That’s not a date.” Anne wrinkled her nose. “That’s work.”
“We were supposed to go to a movie, but he was having trouble loading his students’ artwork to the school’s website.”
“Right.” Anne’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “How do these guys find you?”
“Robert’s not like the others.”
Anne pointed her finger. “You did his work for him.”
“So we could have more time together. Besides, he bought dinner.”
“Let me guess—pizza?”
“I picked the toppings,” Dolley protested.
Anne shook her head. “Didn’t you learn anything from that guy who had you clear the viruses from his computer?”
“John.” Dolley rolled her shoulder. “Never date a guy who spends that much time on porn sites.”
“And there was that other idiot. You built his website—for free.”
“He wasn’t an idiot.” Dolley had been the idiot. “He was an attorney. Gordon.”
“A cheap one—who didn’t pay for the work you did.”
“They all wanted to stay friends,” Dolley said.
“So they could use you again.” Anne snorted.
“Robert’s not like that. I volunteered to help him.”
Anne leaned forward. “Has he called you since you helped him?”
“No.” Dolley chewed her lip. “But he had tests to grade.”
“Right. He teaches at SCAD.” Anne sipped her drink. “Too bad we didn’t have teachers that cute when we went to school.”
She and Anne had met while attending Savannah College of Art and Design. “You might have studied harder.”
Their food arrived, and they dug in, keeping the conversation light.
“Dolley?” a male voice called.
She turned and spotted a familiar face. “Connor?”
Connor’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her out of her chair. “I haven’t seen you in years.”
She hugged him back. “How are you?”
“Good. Great.” Connor pulled away and tugged on her hair. “You look the same. I would have known your mop of red curls anywhere.”
She brushed an offending hank of hair off her face. “Was that a compliment?”
“Absolutely.” He slung an arm around her shoulder and turned to face their table.
“I haven’t seen you before.” Anne set down her drink and smiled. “Are you an old friend of Dolley’s?”
Connor rubbed his knuckles on the top of her head. “We endured high school Advanced Chemistry together. If she hadn’t helped me with my homework, I might have blown my scholarship chances.”
“We got each other through the course.” She elbowed him so he’d stop rubbing her head. “We were the only juniors in the class. The seniors refused to talk to us.”
“The guys always talked to you. You had the textbook memorized.”
Dolley winced. She had a great memory. “What are you doing back in town?” she asked.
“Home for my mom’s birthday weekend. I’m meeting my brother for a beer.” He glanced around. “As usual, he’s late.”
“Do you want to join us until he comes?” Anne smiled.
“Sure.” Connor gave Dolley’s shoulders a squeeze.
Anne kicked Dolley under the table and tilted her head toward Connor.
Dolley shook her head. Connor wasn’t right for Anne. Besides, she’d had a massive crush on him in high school.
All he’d wanted was help in chemistry.
Connor talked about his job while Anne hung on every word.
“You really stayed with chemistry?” Dolley asked.
“Biochemistry. I work up in the triangle.”
Anne frowned. “The Bermuda triangle?”
Connor leaned in to Anne, laughing. “The Research Triangle Park in North Carolina. I live in Raleigh.”
Anne still looked puzzled, so he explained, leaning even closer.
Her friend wasn’t stupid. Dolley expected Anne had heard about the biotech park. Maybe she should leave them alone. “I’ll be right back.”
Heading to the bathroom, she greeted a couple of the locals, waving and smiling.
She spotted a blond at the indoor bar. Her heart picked up a couple of beats. Robert was here.
Hurrying over, she wrapped a hand around his waist. “Hey, handsome.”
Robert whipped around. His eyes widened. “Dolley?”
“I had fun last weekend.” She gave his belly a little poke. “You must have gotten all the tests graded by now.”
His face went blank. “What tests?”
Her shoulders tightened. “You said you had tests to grade.”
“Right. Yes. Lots of tests.” His gaze darted around the room. “I’m taking a break.”
“So you had time to stop in for a drink—” she let out a deep breath “—but didn’t call me?”
“Like I said before—it’s the tests.” His eyes avoided her gaze. “I needed to get grades in.”
Dread settled like a weight on her shoulders. “Did you even give a test this week?”
He finally looked her in the eye. He held up his hands and then let them fall to his thighs with a slap. “A short quiz.”
“A quiz.” The appetizers she’d eaten churned in her stomach.
Based on the way Robert shifted back and forth, she wasn’t dating him again. “Got it.” She turned to go. “I...”
“Dolley.” He grabbed her arm. “We had fun. I appreciate your help last weekend.”
She glared at his hand on her arm until he let her go.
“Were you even interested in me?” she asked. “Or did you endure two dates just to get computer help?”
“Dolley, no.” He caught her hand. “Can we still be...friends?”
She had to get away. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m sorry.” Robert, the jerk, looked relieved.
She stepped backward, then hurried into the hallway.
Why did this always happen to her?
That’s it. She was taking a dating break.
Her phone rang as she exited the bathroom. Unknown number. What now? She answered.
“Is this Dolley Fitzgerald?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations. This is Bridal Party Today. Your photograph won first place in the amateur division of our contest.”
Her heart pounded. “It won?”
“It sure did.”
“My photograph.” She’d entered a picture she’d taken at Mamma’s wedding. She shook her head. “Me?”
“If you’re Dolley Fitzgerald.” The woman on the other end of the call chuckled. “Your picture will be included in our January magazine. I’ll send you interview questions for the article.”
“Sure. Sure.” After confirming her email address, Dolley hung up.
A photograph she’d taken had won. The first conte
st she’d ever entered. And it was a picture of Mamma dancing with Martin, her groom, at their wedding. Dolley couldn’t stop the grin filling her face. She’d won. Punching the air, she spun in the hallway. Who cared about Robert now?
She rushed out to tell Anne.
Connor and Anne had their heads tucked together. Connor’s younger brother occupied the empty chair at the table.
Her enthusiasm vanished. They wouldn’t understand her excitement. They weren’t the youngest sister of two exceptional siblings. They wouldn’t understand her need to prove herself.
Dolley straightened her shoulders. Spotting an empty chair, she dragged it over to the table. “Hey, Jason. Haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Hi, Dolley. Connor said you were here.” Jason grinned. “How’s my favorite babysitter?”
Lord, she’d babysat Jason. “Apparently old. Are you sure you can drink?”
He flipped out his license. “Legal and everything.”
She forced a smile on her face. This wasn’t the time or place to tell people about her silly contest win. She’d get a copy of the magazine, leave it at the B and B and see if anyone read the article. No one would guess a photography career was her secret dream.
* * *
LIAM CLOSED THE folder on the Fitzgeralds and pushed away from the small desk in his room at the inn. He still hadn’t escaped Kilkee.
Seamus’s long-lost relatives and their location sounded too good to be true. A mother who had started the business and three daughters who ran it now. His godfather had collected enough Savannah travel information that Liam wanted to book a flight tomorrow. Did families like this really exist?
All this reading about family had his muscles tightening. He should walk around town to work off this...anxiousness. Maybe grab one of his godfather’s cameras and head to the bay. He never tired of taking pictures of the sunset on the sea.
Instead, he sat, rolled his shoulders and scrolled through the Fitzgerald and Carleton House bed-and-breakfast website. Someone had a nice hand with the photographs. Dolley Fitzgerald.
He flipped open the file to the picture of the Fitzgeralds and wondered which one she was. Their Irish heritage was evident in their fair skin and red hair. Would they care about letters written years ago?