Page 14 of The Wexley Inn
“I’d be glad to show you around,” Isabella said. “Though I should warn you, it’s very much a work in progress.”
As Isabella guided them through the first floor and explained her vision for each space, Thomas watched the interactions between the two women with a mix of fascination and anxiety. Emma was politely reserved but asked intelligent questions while studying Isabella. For her part, Isabella simply maintained her usual warm professionalism, neither too familiar nor too defensive.
When they finally reached the dining room, Isabella outlined her plans for restoring it to its original grandeur.
“The proportions of this room are remarkable,” she said, gesturing toward the high ceilings with their ornate plaster medallions. “We’re going to finish these original floors and restore the wainscoting. I hope to find a period-appropriate light fixture to replace this current lighting.”
“What about the wall?” Emma asked, pointing to a section that separated the dining room from a smaller sitting area. “It kind of interrupts the flow.”
“That’s actually not original to the building,” Thomas said. “It was added during the 1940s restoration, probably to create a private dining space for the owner.”
Isabella nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been debating whether to remove it. On one hand, it would restore the original layout and bring more light to this section, but on the other hand, two distinct spaces offer more flexibility when we’re hosting events.”
“What does the historical record show?” Emma asked.
“I actually found an old photograph from 1910 that shows the original layout,” Isabella replied. She reached for a folder on a nearby table and pulled out the sepia-toned image that depicted the dining room in its early setup.
“That’s beautiful,” Emma said, studying the photograph. “More elegant than this current arrangement, though I understand there are some practical considerations.”
“Exactly my dilemma,” Isabella said, sighing. “Your father’s structural assessment will help determine if the wall is load-bearing, and that might just settle the question.”
“It’s not,” Thomas said. “Purely decorative. You could take it off without compromising the building’s integrity.”
Isabella looked happy. “Well, that’s helpful to know. I’m leaning toward restoring the original open concept, then using furniture arrangement to create the distinct areas when needed.”
“That’s a good compromise,” Emma said.
The tour continued to the kitchen, where they found Luella making notes about storage requirements. The older woman greeted Emma, having known her since childhood.
“Well, look at you, all grown up and proper,” Luella said. “Your mama would be proud.”
“Thanks, Miss Luella. Hey, are you still making the best peach cobbler on the Eastern Seaboard?”
“You know it, although this kitchen needs a complete overhaul before I can do my best work.” Luella turned to Isabella. "Now, I've made you a proper list of what this kitchen needs to pass health department inspection. Lord knows they're pickier than a preacher at a potluck dinner, but we'll get it right."
“I appreciate that,” Isabella said. “Your expertise here will be invaluable for designing a functional space.”
As they continued through the inn, Thomas became more and more aware of the surprising development that Emma was warming up to Isabella. His daughter had a well-honed ability to assess character, a skill that had served her well in her marketing career, but she was genuinely engaging with Isabella, more than just being polite.
Their tour ended in the garden, where Luella had begun clearing decades of overgrowth from what had once been a formal herb and flower garden. As they walked through the overgrown pathways, Thomas found himself hyperaware of Isabella's presence beside him - the way she paused to examine particular plants, the graceful way she moved through the tangled garden, how the dappled sunlight played across her features.
“The landscaping will be in phase two,” Isabella said. “After all the structural work is complete. But these gardens were once the highlight of the property. I’d love to restore them, maybe even with an emphasis on native plants.”
“You know, there’s a landscape architect in Charleston who specializes in restoring historic gardens,” Emma said. “Jessica Oakes. I know, pun intended, I guess. She did the Middleton Place refurbishment. I can introduce you if you’d like.”
Thomas tried to hide the surprise at his daughter’s offer of assistance.
“Oh, that would be wonderful, thank you.”
As they said their goodbyes, Emma’s demeanor toward Isabella was noticeably warmer.
“It was great meeting you, Isabella. Your vision for the inn is awe-inspiring, and I can’t wait to see how it progresses. You’re in good hands with my dad.”
“The pleasure was mine,” Isabella said, “and you’ve offered some wonderful insight today. Feel free to visit anytime you’re here on the island.”
After Emma left, promising to meet Thomas for dinner later, there was an awkward silence between him and Isabella.
“Your daughter is wonderful,” Isabella finally said. “She certainly has your eye for structural integrity, but also has a distinct perspective all her own.”
