LITMIR.BIZ

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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?

      He checked out pictures of Savannah’s St. Patrick’s Day parade. Clicked on a few links. Savannahians celebrated their Irish roots. And this small city had the second largest St. Patrick’s Day parade in America. Why?

      He kept clicking. Found a documentary on the Irish building railroads in Georgia, found other sites touting the Irish regiments in their civil war. Well, his country, too. His father had been an American. Seamus had scorned his dual citizenship. Which made this mission to deliver letters even more puzzling.

      But the idea of researching Savannah’s Irish roots...took hold. Dug in. He could stay at the Fitzgerald’s B and B and work in Savannah. Pretend he was part of their family for a time.

      Once he finished the voice-overs for his Irish Travellers documentary, he needed a new project. Americans were fascinated with their Irish heritage. Why not create a story around the Irish in Savannah?

      He kept searching and didn’t come up for air for an hour. “This might work.”

      He could deliver the letters, but he would also get a new project out of the task.

      He checked the time. His producer should be in her sleek New York office. When her brisk voice came over his mobile, he leaned back.

      “Hallo, Barbara.”

      “Liam,” she said. “I’m so sorry about your godfather. How was the funeral?”

      “Small.” He cut off any additional sympathy.

      “It would still hurt to lose the man who brought you up.” She took a breath. “I’m not pushing, but when do you think you’ll be back in the studio?”

      He was done here. “I’ll complete the voice-overs next week.”

      “Great.”

      Liam stared out at Kilkee Bay. The waves were gentle this evening. So different from the racket in his head. He smiled. “I have a proposal for my next project.”

       CHAPTER TWO

      The single most important component of a camera is the twelve inches behind it.

      Ansel Adams

      “FITZGERALD HOUSE,” DOLLEY SAID.

      “I’m hoping to book a long term stay.” The man on the phone had a delicious Irish accent. “I tried to book online, but wasn’t successful.”

      “I can certainly help you.” Dolley closed her eyes. Yum. She could listen to this man’s voice for hours. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she logged in to the reservation system. “When will you arrive?”

      “December fifteenth through...the twenty-fifth of March.”

      A three-and-a-half month stay? Dolley bit her lip, afraid she’d blurt out hot damn. She loved being the sister who caught these calls. She searched for available rooms, then it hit her. “Oh, dear. We close the week between Christmas and New Year’s.”

      “You’re closed?” Papers rustled on the line. “Is there any way I could...incentivize you to let me stay?”

      A three-and-a-half month reservation was a pretty big incentive, especially since Carleton House was opening next year. “How many people in your party?” she asked, trying to stall while she figured out what to do.

      “Just me until mid-February. Then I’ll bring in my film crew.”

      “Film crew?” This guy was in the movies? “How many rooms would you need?”

      “Three more, beginning, let’s say, February 20 through March 25.”

      If she was a swooning woman, she’d be dropping to the floor. What a perfect way to open Carleton House.

      But they weren’t open over Christmas.

      After Mamma opened the B and B, she’d always insisted they celebrate Christmas as a family. Dolley drummed her fingers on the desktop. Just last week, she and her sisters had agreed to stick with Mamma’s tradition.

      But this was a three-and-a-half month reservation. With more rooms starting in February. Dolley shook her head. This booking was not going to a competitor.

      Maybe Abby would make an exception. Bess, their other sister, would agree with Abby.

      “I’ll talk with my partners, but I think we can work something out. It might not include breakfast, afternoon tea or wine tasting during the week we’re closed. Would that be a problem?”

      “Hmm. Would I be able to eat elsewhere?”

      “Absolutely.” She’d personally create a list of open restaurants for him. “I’d be happy to set up reservations for you and your party during the holidays.”

      The grandfather clock at the end of the foyer ticked like a slow metronome, filling the long silence.

      “I’ll be alone.” His tone was soulful, like he didn’t have anyone in the world.

      No family during Christmas? Now she definitely had to convince Abby to make an exception.

      “Let me get your information.”

      She wrote everything down. Liam Delaney. Even his name was drool-worthy. “After I check with my partners, I’ll call you back.”

      Dolley danced down the hallway to the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door. Abby handled all the breakfasts, teas and appetizers offered by the B and B. Eighty percent of the time she could find her sister baking or cooking.

      She was in luck. Abby stood next to the counter on her phone.

      “Dolley walked in.” Abby waved her closer. “She’ll know.”

      Dolley moved to the counter.

      Her sister pushed the speaker button and set the phone down. “Mamma wants to know how many more beds we need for Carleton House.”

      “Hey, Mamma.” Dolley rested her head on her hand.

      “Hi, sweetie. Aunt CeCe and I have been having fun hitting antique stores and estate sales. We found some great Victorian bed frames and one tester, but I couldn’t remember how many more beds we need. Also, are we still looking for lamps?”

      The smile in Mamma’s voice had Dolley grinning. Her newlywed mother sounded so excited. “Great-Aunt CeCe is shopping with you?”

      “Her arthritis is better in the morning. We’ve gotten in the habit of hitting the stores early.” Mamma lowered her voice. “She loves feeling useful and spending money. If she could, she’d shop all day.”

      “Let me think.” Dolley closed her eyes and pictured the inventory spreadsheet on her computer. She’d updated it last week. “Six more beds. Bess added a request for four small bookcases for the upstairs parlors. Two pairs.”

      “We

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