Through A Magnolia Filter. Nan Dixon
scrolled down the spreadsheet in her mind. “We need a dozen table lamps and we’d take floor lamps, too.”
“Good. There was an estate sale today that had wonderful lamps. We put holds on the nice ones. I’ll take pictures and send them to you. Love to all.”
Abby ended the call. She and Dolley looked at each other and laughed.
“I’m glad Mamma volunteered, or we’d be running all over Georgia and the Carolinas looking for furniture,” Abby said.
“It sounds like Aunt CeCe’s having a great time, too.” Dolley spotted a tray of sweets. “Anything to eat in here?”
Abby waved at the counter. “Leftovers from tea.”
Dolley snapped up a sandwich and grabbed a plate off the stack. Deviled ham? Worked for her. Anything her sister made was delicious. She could chew and mull over how to approach Abby.
Abby stood in front of an open fridge with the inventory list Dolley had designed for her. “Did you need something?”
“I stopped in to say hello to the Scrapbooking Sister group I booked.” Dolley dusted the crumbs off her fingers and took a deep breath. “What do you think about another long-term stay?”
Abby wiggled her fingers, engagement ring sparkling. “I sure liked the last one.”
“Yeah, yeah. You got a fiancé out of it.” Dolley moved to the coffeepot and poured a mug. “He’s not asking for dinner, so I don’t think Gray has to worry you’ll fall for another man.”
Abby bumped her shoulder and took a sip of Dolley’s coffee. Her sister’s gaze softened. “Gray never has to worry about that.”
Dolley rolled her eyes. Her sister and Gray were in love. Sickeningly so. She was happy for her sister, but why couldn’t she find her own guy?
“Back to business.” Dolley snapped her fingers in front of Abby’s silly smile. “Three-and-a-half months. He hasn’t asked for a discount. And he’ll need three more rooms starting February 20 until March 25.”
“Four rooms.” Abby straightened. “I say yes. Absolutely.”
“So do I.” Dolley took back her coffee. “It would include the week of Christmas.”
“Christmas?” Abby’s shoulders sank. “We’re closed.”
“I told him. He’s willing to work something out and just wants to make sure he can get meals someplace.”
Abby paced to the sitting area. “One person, or is he bringing someone else?”
“Just him.” Dolley sighed. “The poor man says he’ll be alone during the holidays.”
“Alone during Christmas?” Abby jerked around to look at her.
Dolley nodded.
Her sister twisted her ring. “We agreed to keep our Christmas break just last week.”
“I know.”
“Is there something unusual about him?” Abby pointed a finger at her. “Did you Google him?”
“No.” But she would. She wanted to know about Mr. Liam Delaney of the sexy voice. “He just said he’d be alone.”
She sighed again, trying to tug on Abby’s tender heart. “How sad not to have a place to go during the holidays. I’m so lucky to work with my sisters and have Mamma within spitting distance.”
“Of course we’ll take him.” Abby took Dolley’s hand. “And he’ll have his breakfast, too. For the week we’re closed, he can eat in the kitchen like Gray did.”
“You’re so good-hearted.” Dolley brushed a kiss on Abby’s cheek. “I’ll call him back.”
Abby frowned. “Did you just play me?”
Dolley snagged one more sandwich. “Never.”
Abby’s eyes narrowed. “Just for that, you tell Bess.”
“Will do.” Dolley grinned. She wasn’t looking forward to shoehorning a massive reservation into their clunky booking system. But at least she could listen to Liam Delaney’s gorgeous accent again.
* * *
LIAM TAPPED THE floor with his foot. He knew he would get the go ahead. He had to.
But he’d had project ideas shot down before.
So here he was...waiting...and worrying. The idea of this Savannah documentary had grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go.
During the week Barbara was taking his idea for final approval, he’d stopped in New York. Something he’d never done before.
Liam stared out at the silver forest of buildings flanked by turbulent skies. December snowflakes floated through the air, waiting to drop and join the gray slush blanketing New York City. Even standing in his producer’s office, he couldn’t clear the petrol smell from his nose. In Kilkee, at least he’d been able to smell the bay.
He paced from the window to the door. And back again. His anxiousness wasn’t normal.
The office door burst open. Barbara called out, “I’ve got your approval.”
He let out a sigh, sinking into a chair. “I knew you could do it.”
Barbara tossed a red cardigan on her desk. Big red flowers covered her black dress.
“I might have promised them my firstborn.” Her black hair swung around her chin. “I didn’t tell them he was turning thirteen.”
He shook his head in mock horror. She doted on her son, David.
“Can I pick my crew?” he asked.
“You’ve got Jerry. I’m working on the rest.” She leaned against her desk. “Legal revised the consent form we want you to use.”
Liam rolled his eyes. “Again?”
“Yes.” Barbara slipped around her desk and slid into her chair. “Make sure to grab copies from Samantha.”
“Lovely.” He hated explaining that people were signing away their rights—forever. “I’d like to take a portable video camera with me.”
“Talk to Samantha.” Barbara fingered the stack of pink phone slips. “Are we still on for lunch with Toni and Mark?”
“Yes, they confirmed.” His agent and manager had both approved the contracts, pending project approval.
He paced in front of the window. This was happening. He had his excuse to head to Savannah.
“You’re pushing hard on this one.” Barbara tipped her head. “Why?”
“The place I’ll stay in Savannah is run by the Fitzgerald family.”
“FitzGerald. Like your godfather?”
“Yes.” Returning to her guest chair, he tapped his fingers on the wooden back. “The only way I could get my hands on Seamus’s cameras was to agree to take some letters to them.”
She frowned, leaning back in her chair. “Is this why you suggested this documentary?”
“Not originally.” Liam stuck his hands in his pockets. “But when I checked the sisters and Savannah out, I was intrigued.”
“Sisters?” His producer raised her eyebrows. “How pretty are they?”
“Not in that way.” Although Dolley’s face was...engaging. He’d toyed with the idea of including her family in the documentary, but didn’t know how the story would unfold or if they would fit his premise. “What did you think of the title, Savannah’s Irish Roots?”
She smiled and nodded. “We’ll test