Through A Magnolia Filter

“You don’t need my approval to date Connor.” What did she know about successful relationships?

Anne’s shoulders relaxed. “But he was your friend first. I don’t want this to be between us.”

“Never.” Dolley caught her hand. “I think you’ll be great together.”

Anne squeezed her fingers. “Really?”

“Really.” Dolley hated that her friend had hesitated to tell her about a relationship. Maybe letting her in on her secret might soothe her feathers. “The reason I’m heading to Fitzgerald House is because our long-term guest, the Irishman, is considering whether he’ll take me on as a photography apprentice.”

Anne’s eyes were as big as saucers. “An apprentice?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe he can jump-start my photography career. He must know all the right people. It would be the perfect leg up.”

“You want to change careers?”

“I hope so,” Dolley said. “And Liam could help me hit the fast track.”

“I don’t want to be alone at Jackson.” Anne pouted.

“You won’t be alone. And who knows if I’m any good.” Dolley winced. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Anne turned a key on her mouth. “Is the Irishman as hot as his accent?”

“Hotter.” And Dolley wasn’t kidding. “Total eye candy.”

Anne fanned herself. “Go, girl.”

“It won’t be a hardship to befriend the man.” Dolley grinned. And maybe she could get him to smile.

Dolley cut across Columbia Square and skirted the fountain. Everyone around her was pairing up. Anne and Connor. That was a shock. Abby was engaged. Bess and Daniel had been hot and heavy for a while, but that had ended. Even so, Bess didn’t want to stop for drinks anymore.

Soon there wouldn’t be anyone to go clubbing with her, and she’d sit at home, become a recluse and take in stray cats.

Across the street from the B and B, she stopped and stared at Fitzgerald House. At three full stories plus the attic, it towered above Carleton House. The black wrought iron balconies gave it a feminine look.

Dolley didn’t remember Fitzgerald House ever being her home. She’d been five when Mamma had opened the B and B.

She only remembered Papa through pictures. He’d died when she was four. But whenever she smelled Old Spice, she got a warm, happy feeling. Abby was the one who’d told her it had been Papa’s aftershave.

Sunshine sparkled on the windows. A cascade of red poinsettias flowed across the porch and down the steps. Dolley had wrapped fairy lights around the green garland draped along the low wall running the length of both Fitzgerald and Carleton House. Her fingers clenched, wishing she had her camera.

The day they’d decorated, she’d taken tons of pictures. That B and B blog had gotten the most hits ever. The blog was her small contribution to finding new guests.

She took the Fitzgerald House porch stairs two at a time and pulled open the bright blue door. She sniffed. Ginger molasses cookies? Abby was baking her favorite treat.

She wanted to see if Liam was attending afternoon tea, but she also wanted to grab a warm cookie. She inhaled. Darn it. A career she was passionate about was more important than her sister’s cookies, right? She forced her feet to move down the hall, away from the kitchen.

In the sunroom, guests gathered in groups of two or four, drinking and eating the offerings. She leaned against the door frame.

Liam sat next to the bay window. A group of local women who came to tea each month formed a ring around him. Wouldn’t they love his accent?

His knuckles were white around his plate. His teeth clenched. Poor man.

She entered the room.

His head jerked up. Relief filled his deep blue eyes and he scrambled to his feet. “Excuse me, ladies.”

Pressing her lips together, she held back a laugh.

“Ms. Fitzgerald.” He almost lunged toward her. “Just the person I was hoping to see.”

She smiled. “Good to see you, too.”

“Is there someplace we can talk? Someplace other than—” he looked back at the ladies “—here?”

She took pity on him. “Follow me.”

“Goodbye, Liam,” a woman called.

“Goodbye, Mr. Delaney,” another said.

“Let me know if you need more information on my family,” a woman called as he left.

As soon as they turned the hallway corner, she burst out laughing.

He slumped against the wall. “Devil take me, those women were talking my ears off.”

“I know just what will help, my sister’s molasses and ginger cookies.” She linked their arms. His was firm and muscular. “They’re the best.”

She would be able to talk to Liam and have her favorite cookie. Score.

“As soon as I told the group what I was doing in Savannah, they...they attacked.” He was a little breathless. “And they all looked alike. What are you doing down here, cloning crones?”

She glanced behind her, but they were far enough away from the sunroom that no one could have heard him. “They all went to school together, and they’re wonderful.”

“I’m sure they are, but they’re overwhelming.” His words ran together, a lovely Irish slur of sounds.

She slipped her arm out if his. If she wanted an apprenticeship, she wouldn’t complicate things by acting too familiar.

Photography was her focus.

She pushed open the kitchen door.

Abby slid cookies onto racks. She glanced up, her ponytail bouncing. “Hey, Dolley.”

Liam stepped in next to her. Even through the magnificent smell of molasses, sugar and ginger, his scent came through.

“Abby, have you met Liam Delaney?”