Through A Magnolia Filter. Nan Dixon
juggled her mug, setting it down before she spilled. This didn’t sound like an apprenticeship. “I’d be on trial?”
“Probation. It won’t be much money.” He named an hourly rate that was barely over minimum wage.
Her stomach dropped. She still had to live. “How many hours a week?”
“Let’s say—ten to fifteen to start. If I need more hours, we’d reassess the money.” Liam leaned close enough for her to catch a heady whiff of his cologne. “Is the money a problem?”
Money was always a problem for the Fitzgerald family, but she wouldn’t tell Liam that. She wanted a chance to improve her skills. This might be her big break or it could be a lowly gopher job. How would she pay her bills?
“I’ll see if I can cut back my hours at work.” She kept her tone calm, when inside, everything started to shake.
He frowned. “I thought you and your sisters ran the B and B?”
“We do. I also work for a website design company.” Jackson had always let her flex her hours.
His dark eyebrows almost formed a straight line. “I don’t want to mess up your job.”
“You won’t.” She picked at the pleat in her pants. “I’d planned to cut my hours when Carleton House was up and running.” Not quite this many hours. “It’s no problem. Really. I’ll just do this a little earlier. Really.” Now she was babbling like her sister’s fountain.
“You’re sure?” A puzzled look crossed his face.
“Really.” Had she really said really again? “When do you want me to start?”
“Can you give me a half day tomorrow? Say, in the afternoon.”
“Perfect.” She’d get to the office early, finish the website she was working on and then talk to Jackson. With an early delivery on her current project, she’d soften him up. Then she’d tell him about cutting her hours.
If she survived her probation, this might be the start of a new career and the end of an old one. Her hands shook, and she tucked them under her legs. “Why don’t I meet you here at one thirty? I’ll drive.”
* * *
“THE DUNES’ WEBSITE just went live.” Dolley leaned against Jackson’s doorway.
He glanced up from his array of screens. “When was it due?”
“Next week.”
He smiled. “Wonderful.”
“Hold that thought.” She moved into his office and settled into a guest chair.
“What’s up?”
She cleared her throat. “I need to cut my hours a little earlier than I thought.”
“You and your sisters having problems at the B and B?”
“No.” She took a deep breath. “I have an opportunity to apprentice with a world-class photographer.”
“And that affects your work—how?”
She swallowed. “I need to cut back to ten to fifteen hours a week.”
If Liam took her on, she’d end up working long hours for a while. Somehow she would juggle her job, working with Liam and the B and B. Her stomach churned. Who needed sleep?
“Ten hours?” Jackson was shaking his head. “You’re my best designer. People ask for you.”
“They do?” He’d never told her that.
“Yeah, they do. What’s with the photography bug anyway?”
“I...I like taking pictures.”
“Then you can take more shots like you did for—” he snapped his fingers “—that...that pub last fall.”
“I want more than having my pictures on other people’s websites.” She was tired of fading into the background just like in her family.
Jackson shoved his fingers through his short curly hair. Bad sign. “I’ve given you a lot of leeway.”
She nodded, a chill running down her back.
He aimed his dark brown gaze at her. “When you wanted to flex your hours, I didn’t complain.”
Her hands clasped together in her lap. “I hope you know I appreciate that.”
He waved her statement away. “You have more latitude than any other designer.”
Was there a but in his tone?
“I don’t know if I can let you drop below thirty hours a week. I definitely can’t grant any benefits at the levels you’re talking about.”
“What are you saying?” her voice squeaked.
“You’ll have to become an independent contractor.” He froze her with his stare. “No benefits. And you’d bid each project.”
Bid. Not get a salary. Not even get an hourly wage. If she had problems with a site, she could end up working for pennies. She’d assumed she would be paid hourly from now on.
If Liam didn’t take her on, she’d just burned a major bridge. She wouldn’t have steady income. She wouldn’t have money being set aside for her retirement. She’d have to go on the B and B’s health plan. Sweat trickled down her back.
She let out a shaky breath. “When do you want me to start bidding?”
* * *
LIAM GLANCED AT his watch. The day was crawling. He had another half hour before he saw Dolley again.
She’d accepted his offer, even though he hadn’t committed to mentoring her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to take on the responsibility that came with an apprenticeship. Bonds formed if he worked that close with someone. Kieran, his only apprentice, had betrayed their friendship.
Would Dolley be as ambitious as Kieran? He didn’t have to decide right away, but he couldn’t keep her dangling, either.
He slipped the Savannah history book back on the shelf of the Fitzgerald House library. He hadn’t found anything new in it. Then he checked the grandfather clock in the hall to make sure his watch was correct. 1:10 p.m.
This was odd. He’d never been bored on a project. And he wasn’t bored. He just wanted to see Dolley and soak up some of her sparkling energy.
Guilt had him rolling his shoulders. He’d agreed to work with her because he was toying with the idea of using the Fitzgeralds as the core of his film. The documentary could highlight the difference between James’s journey to America and the poor Irishmen who built canals and railroads and oversaw plantations.
James’s letters might be the carrot to get what he wanted—an exposé on the difference between the Fitzgeralds’ ancestors and the countrymen who fled Ireland during the potato famine. The age-old conflict of rich versus poor. Haves versus have-nots.
Hopefully, spending time with Dolley would determine the perfect approach to integrate their family into his film. He didn’t want the sisters tossing him out on his arse.
The clock read 1:15 p.m. He headed to the dining room to grab one last cup of coffee.
“Hi, Liam.” The newlyweds he’d met at last night’s wine tasting were pouring mugs of coffee.
“Hey, Becca, Hale. Did you have a good time at the fort?”
“We did. Now Becca wants to shop.” Hale rolled his eyes, but was grinning.
“Oh, stop.” She added cream and sugar to a mug and handed it to her husband.
The couple shared an intimate smile that had Liam shifting on his feet.
“Thanks.” Hale touched Becca’s