Page 57 of The Wexley Inn
Isabella nodded. “So with Sarah, your marriage to her was it…”
“It was a good partnership,” Thomas replied honestly. “We shared a lot of respect for each other and commitment to Emma, and had common values. Sarah was truly a remarkable woman - intelligent, practical, principled - and we built a solid life together, even if it wasn’t the grand passion of youthful romance.” He paused for a moment, wanting to be truthful. “She knew about you - not the full circumstances of our breakup - but that you had been important to me, and she was okay with that. Well, she was secure in who she was,” Thomas explained. “She once said that, ‘her loss was my gain, wasn’t it?’ That was Sarah. Direct, no nonsense, but with a generous heart.”
Isabella smiled. “She sounds like someone I might have liked under different circumstances.”
“Oh, you would have,” Thomas agreed. “You’re similar in some ways - that core of strength, that practical approach to challenges. Emma sees that in you, too. She mentioned it to me after meeting you.”
The comparison seemed to please Isabella, although she didn’t comment directly on it. Instead, she stared out the window where the rain had finally subsided to a gentle drizzle. “The storm’s passing,” she said. “The road should reopen soon.”
Thomas recognized that subtle shift in conversation as a signal that she needed some time to process. Thirty years of wondering had been answered in a single conversation. It was natural that she would want space to consider things.
“Probably within the hour,” he said, respecting her unspoken request to return to more neutral territory. “You know, we should check the temporary repairs once more before we leave. Make sure everything’s holding up. This seems to be becoming a common thing, us getting stuck here in the house during a storm.”
She laughed and nodded her head as they rose from their chairs. They made their final inspection, and the interaction remained comfortable, but slightly more reserved.
The road reopened as predicted, allowing them to depart as darkness settled over the island. Standing beside their respective vehicles in the driveway, they found themselves in a moment of uncertain farewell.
“Thanks again for your help with the roof,” Thomas said.
“We make a great emergency response team.”
She smiled. “We do. And thank you for the shirt. I’ll wash it and return it tomorrow.”
“Oh, no rush,” Thomas said, waving his hand. “Thanks for listening, and for understanding.”
She met his gaze directly, her expression thoughtful. “You know, thirty years is a long time to wonder about something. I’m glad to finally know the truth.” She paused for a moment. “I do need some time to process it all, but I’m grateful for your honesty.”
“Of course,” Thomas said. “Take all the time you need.”
As Thomas drove through the rain-washed evening, he felt both lighter and more settled than he'd been in years. He'd finally told Isabella the truth, and she'd responded with grace and understanding he hadn't deserved.
Some lessons, it seemed, took more than thirty years to learn.
CHAPTER 14
Isabella stood at the center of what would become the inn’s grand lobby and watched as the workers carefully restored the original crown molding. It highlighted the intricate details of the plasterwork - acanthus leaves and delicate rope patterns - that Thomas’s craftspeople had meticulously repaired.
Two weeks had passed since the storm that trapped them together at the inn and led to Thomas’s revelation about their past. Two weeks of professional collaboration continued, even though personal undercurrents were clearly present. Isabella had requested time to process his explanation, and Thomas had given her the space. They had gone back to the comfortable professional rapport they had built during the months of renovation. But something had unquestionably shifted between them.
The truth, finally spoken after three decades, had lifted an invisible barrier. Of course, their talk remained focused on the renovation, but the tension from their unacknowledged history was gone, replaced by a more genuine connection.
“The molding looks perfect,” Daphne said as she joined Isabella. “You can’t even tell which sections are original and which have been recreated.”
“Oh, Thomas’s craftsmen are the best of the best,” Isabella said. “Their attention to detail makes all the difference.”
“Speaking of details,” Daphne continued, opening her portfolio, “I’ve finally finalized the fabric selections for all the guest rooms. Each one will have its own subtle color scheme but maintain an overall cohesion for the house.”
Isabella examined the selections. Over the past months, Daphne had proven herself not only talented but also intuitively aligned with Isabella’s vision for the inn.
“These are perfect,” she said. “When can we expect delivery?”
“Six weeks for custom pieces, and everything should arrive in plenty of time for the holiday opening. Which reminds me, have you finalized the date for the grand opening celebration?”
“December fifteenth,” Isabella said with a nod. “It gives us a comfortable buffer after construction completion for staff training and a soft opening, but we’ll still be able to capture some of the holiday season.”
They were interrupted by Luella, who entered with her signature mix of authority and casual familiarity. “Kitchen cabinets are being delivered,” she announced. “Thought you’d want to know.”
“Thanks, Luella,” Isabella said. “I should be there to oversee the installation.”
