Through a Magnolia Filter Read Online Free

won. The first contest 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.”
    â€œHi, 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.
    * * *
    L IAM 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?
    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.
    â€œHallo, Barbara.”
    â€œLiam,” she said. “I’m so sorry about your godfather. How was the funeral?”
    â€œSmall.” He cut off any additional sympathy.
    â€œIt 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