Page 27 of The Wexley Inn
The rest of the day passed as Thomas focused on his work and watched his crew develop a detailed plan for reinforcing the damaged beam. By late afternoon, they had stabilized the area and were preparing for the lumber’s arrival. Isabella and Daphne continued their design discussions, occasionally asking Thomas structural questions.
When the workday wound down, Thomas found himself alone with Isabella in what would become the inn’s library. Daphne had left, promising to send the initial design concepts within a week, and the construction crew had departed for the day.
“You know, Daphne’s a great choice,” Thomas said, gathering his tools. “She understands what you’re trying to create here.”
Isabella nodded. “I think so, too. She respects the history, but she’s not afraid to incorporate some modern elements when they’re appropriate.”
“Exactly the balance this place needs,” Thomas said. “You’re building a very strong team.”
“Well, that’s the idea,” Isabella said. “The inn’s success will depend on having the right people involved at every level.”
The silence between them felt comfortable yet tense, reminiscent of their younger days when words weren’t always needed. Golden afternoon light slanted through the windows, and he found himself studying how it played across her face, hesitant to break the spell.
“I should go,” he finally said, but made no immediate move toward the door. “Emma’s back on the island unexpectedly, so we’re having dinner together tonight.”
“Oh, I thought she had meetings in Atlanta.”
“Postponed due to some issues with her client.”
Isabella nodded. “How is Emma? She seemed a little more comfortable with me by the end of her visit.”
He smiled. “She was. Emma forms her own opinions about people, no matter what she’s heard. She mentioned she liked you, actually.”
Something in Isabella’s expression softened. “Well, I’m glad. She’s clearly very important to you.”
“She’s my whole world,” he said, letting the honest words escape before he could consider them.
Her gaze was thoughtful as she studied him. “You’ve done a great job with her. She’s impressive. Intelligent, kind, confident. Those qualities don’t develop by accident.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
Another silence fell. This one more charged than the last. He wanted to say more—about Emma, about their past, about the letters he’d discovered that morning—but the moment didn’t seem right.
“Good night, Isabella,” he finally said, gathering the rest of his things.
“Good night, Thomas,” she said.
As he drove home, he found himself thinking about Emma’s advice at the cemetery. Maybe it was time to tell Isabella the truth about why he had ended their relationship so suddenly - not to rekindle what had been lost, because too much time had passed for that - but to finally close that chapter that had been left painfully open.
The question was whether opening old wounds would bring healing or simply fresh pain for both of them - and whether, after thirty years, Isabella would even want to hear his explanation.
CHAPTER 7
So many thoughts occupied his mind as he prepared for dinner with Emma. Their conversation flowed easily around everyday topics, but it wasn’t until they were clearing dishes that his daughter decided to return to the subject of their cemetery discussion.
“So, did you see Isabella today?” she asked a little too casually.
He nodded and loaded plates into the dishwasher. “She was at the inn meeting with an interior designer she hired. Why?”
Emma shrugged. “I was just curious. I had lunch with Maggie Beaumont.”
“And how was that?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Very enlightening," Emma replied with a knowing smile. "That woman has more intel than the CIA."
“And I warned you about that,” Thomas said. “Maggie knows everybody’s business and remembers every single detail.”
“Which is exactly why she’s so fascinating to talk with,” Emma said as she wiped down the counter. “Did you know that she and Isabella have become quite close friends? Apparently, Maggie’s taken Isabella under her wing to help her navigate island politics.”
