Page 29 of The Wexley Inn
Once they were alone, Maggie didn’t hesitate. “I’ve just come from a quite revealing coffee with Vivian Pierce. It seems she’s trying to gather opposition to your renovation plans for the upcoming Architectural Review Board meeting.”
Isabella frowned. “But they already approved our preliminary plans. We’re following everything exactly as submitted.”
“I understand, but this is about the next phase. It’s specifically about your plans to upgrade the kitchen to commercial standards and add modern bathrooms to each guest room. Vivian’s claiming these changes will ‘destroy the soul of our island’s most treasured landmark.’ She’s even threatening to petition the state historical commission if the local board approves your plans.”
“Well, that’s just ridiculous,” Isabella said, frustrated. “We’re maintaining every historical element possible. The kitchen and bathrooms need to meet modern health codes. If this is going to work as an actual inn?—”
“You and I both know that, dear. But Vivian is playing to the fears of the island’s old guard. You know, she’s particularly focused on the fact that you’re bringing in an ‘outside designer’ rather than using local talent.” Her expression was sympathetic but very concerned. “I just thought you should know before the whispering campaign gains too much momentum.”
Isabella took a deep breath and tried to process the information. Of course, she had expected resistance to her plans. That was part of renovating a beloved historical property in a close-knit community. But she hadn’t anticipated such a deliberate opposition.
“Well, thanks for the warning. What do you suggest I do?”
“A good old-fashioned charm offensive,” Maggie replied with steel in her smile. “Sometimes you gotta kill ‘em with kindness before they know what hit ‘em. I’m hosting my annual garden party next weekend—it’s where the real island business gets done, over mint juleps and petits fours. I’d like you to be my honored guest, showcasing what you’re creating here. Bring your plans, your designer, and that incredible knowledge of historical preservation that you have. Then let the influential ladies of Wexley see firsthand what you’re creating here.”
She considered this suggestion. Public relations had been a significant part of her corporate role. She knew the value of getting ahead of a potential opposition.
“That sounds like a great approach, though I doubt Vivian will be swayed.”
“Oh, Vivian is a lost cause,” Maggie said, waving her hand. "This isn't about convincing Vivian. That ship sailed years ago. It's about making sure she doesn’t convince Charlotte Stewart, whose husband controls the renovation loans, or Helen Morrison, whose family founded the island. We need those votes, Isabella."
As they discussed the strategy for the garden party, Isabella found herself once again grateful for Maggie’s friendship. The older woman had become an unexpected ally, offering island insights and social connections that would have taken Isabella years to develop on her own.
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Luella, who carried a large wicker basket.
“Figured y’all might be gettin’ a little peckish,” she announced as she set the basket down. “Can’t fight island politics on an empty stomach. Fresh biscuits, fruit, and that chicken salad you liked so much yesterday, Isabella.”
“Oh, Luella, you’re a treasure,” Isabella said. “Please join us. Maggie was just telling me about Vivian’s latest efforts to derail our renovation.”
Luella snorted. "Honey, that woman's been tryin' to run this island since she was knee-high to a cricket. Some folks just can't help themselves."
Maggie laughed. “Well put, Luella. I’ve been suggesting Isabella join my garden party next weekend to win over some of the Ladies Club members before the review board meeting.”
“That’s a good plan,” Luella said. “You should have Thomas there, too. Some of these ladies have known him since he was a little boy. They trust his judgment on these historical matters, whether Vivian likes it or not.”
Isabella hesitated. “I’m not sure if Thomas would want to get involved in social politics like this.”
“Nonsense,” Luella said firmly. “This is his project, too. He knows how these island games are played better than most.”
Before Isabella could respond, they heard the sound of Thomas’s truck pulling up outside. Moments later, he was in the doorway, looking kind of surprised to find the three women in conversation.
“Morning, ladies,” he greeted them. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Not at all,” Maggie replied. “In fact, we were just discussing you.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking between them. “Should I be worried?”
“Probably,” Luella said. “Maggie’s recruiting forces for battle with Vivian Pierce.”
Isabella quickly explained the situation while Thomas listened, his expression growing more serious.
“I’m not surprised,” he said. “Vivian’s never forgiven me for convincing the board to approve composite roofing materials on the Palmetto Street renovations last year. She was dead set on requiring historically accurate wooden shingles, even though they were a fire hazard and had serious maintenance issues.”
“Well, then you understand why your presence at my garden party would be valuable,” Maggie said. “Your expertise lends credibility to Isabella’s vision.”
He glanced over at Isabella. “If you think it would help, I’m happy to attend.”
“I think it would,” she admitted. “Your knowledge of the island’s architectural history is far more extensive than mine. And as Luella pointed out, many of these women have known you for many years.”
