Page 16 of The Wexley Inn
“Good night, Isabella,” he said, descending the porch steps.
“Good night, Thomas,” she replied softly.
As he drove away, Thomas glanced in his rearview mirror to see Isabella still standing on the porch, her figure silhouetted against the white clapboard of the inn. She looked both perfectly at home there and impossibly distant, like a dream he'd once thought he could hold onto, now just close enough to remember what he'd lost, but too far away to ever reclaim.
CHAPTER 5
Thomas found his daughter waiting for him at The Blue Marlin, a casual seafood restaurant overlooking the marina. She had secured a table on the deck with a view of the marina, where ceiling fans stirred the thick evening air that carried the scent of salt marsh and fried seafood. Strands of white lights twinkled overhead like landlocked stars, and the gentle lapping of boats against the dock provided a soothing rhythmic background.
“Sorry, I’m late,” he said, sitting down across from her. “I was wrapping things up at the inn.”
She studied him over the rim of her wine glass. “So, Isabella Montgomery.”
He sighed and reached for the water the server had already placed on the table. “Yes. I was wondering how long it was going to take you to bring that back up again.”
"Oh, I showed remarkable restraint," she said with a grin. "I waited a whole five minutes after you sat down, didn't I?"
Despite his discomfort with the topic, he laughed. “Yes, so very considerate of you.”
“She’s not what I expected.”
“Well, what did you expect?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, shrugging. “When you said she was your first love, I guess I pictured someone… I don’t know, different. More dramatic, maybe? She’s very composed and professional.”
“She always was,” he said. “Even in college. She approached everything with precision and focus, but there was this passion underneath that polished exterior - about architecture, about history, about creating spaces that brought people together.”
Emma watched her father’s face carefully. “You never mentioned her. All these years, not a word.”
He looked out over the water, where boats gently rocked at their moorings. “Well, some wounds are better left undisturbed.”
“Did you love Mom?”
The question was asked gently, but directly, in typical Emma fashion.
He turned back to his daughter, surprised. “Of course I did. Your mother was an extraordinary woman - kind, intelligent, courageous. Our marriage wasn’t perfect, but we built a good life together, and I have never regretted that for one minute.”
“But Isabella was first,” Emma said, an observation more than a question.
“Yes. She was first.”
The server arrived to take their orders, providing a welcome interruption. After picking their meals - grilled snapper for Thomas and shrimp and grits for Emma - they fell silent until they were alone again.
“Why did you leave her?” Emma finally asked. “If she was your first love, what happened?”
Thomas hesitated. He’d never discussed this kind of thing with anyone, let alone his daughter. He’d carried the weight of his decision alone all these years.
"Life happened," he said carefully. "My father's business was failing - bad investments, medical bills from an accident. We were facing bankruptcy, losing everything. Your mom’s family had money, old Lowcountry wealth, and when I called them desperately asking for a loan..." He paused. "They agreed, but only if I came home immediately after graduation and married Sarah. They said she'd never gotten over our high school relationship."
Her eyes widened. "They blackmailed you. My grandparents literally blackmailed you?”
Emma had been close to Sarah’s parents, especially after she passed. Thomas hadn’t told her what they had done because she needed all the love she could get as a child. He wasn’t going to rob her of that.
“I thought I was being noble," Thomas said quietly. "Saving my father, giving Sarah what she wanted, letting Isabella pursue her career without being dragged down by my family's problems. I couldn't tell Isabella the truth. She would have insisted on helping somehow, and I couldn't let her sacrifice her future for my family's mistakes."
She was silent for a moment, processing her thoughts. “Does Isabella know that was the reason you broke things off with her?”
“No. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth. I thought a clean break would be easier for her, allowing her to focus on her career without complications or obligations to me. I told her I had to go home in a note, and that was it.”
