Page 34 of The Wexley Inn
Isabella nodded. “Okay, well, let me know the specifics when you have them. If we need to adjust the budget, I’d rather know sooner than later.”
He appreciated her practical approach to setbacks. Some clients would have freaked out or tried to cut corners to maintain their original budget or timeline, but she always prioritized doing things right over doing things quickly or cheaply.
“We’re still in good shape overall,” he said. “The window restoration is ahead of schedule, and the electrical work passed inspection yesterday.”
“That’s great news.” Isabella smiled, some of the tension slowly leaving her shoulders. “We need a few wins to balance out the challenges.”
Luella gathered her notes and rose from the chair with a deliberate movement, as if her joints didn’t cooperate as easily as they once did. "Now, Isabella, you study those menu ideas I gave you real good. Shrimp and grits'll do fine for breakfast, but folks expectin' dinner are gonna want somethin' with a little more flair to it."
As Luella left, Thomas took the seat she’d vacated, pulling out his notebook to show Isabella some preliminary sketches for the plumbing.
“The main issue is here,” he explained, pointing at a rough diagram. “The original pipes run through the foundation instead of alongside it, which means we can’t simply replace them in the same location without compromising structural integrity.”
She examined the drawing. “What’s your recommended solution?”
“Reroute the new plumbing through this section.” He indicated a different path on his sketch. “It’s a longer run, which means more materials and labor, but it avoids disturbing the foundation.”
“Well, that makes sense,” she agreed. “Do what needs to be done. I trust your judgment on this.”
The simple act of trust struck Thomas unexpectedly hard. Over his years of restoration work, he had become used to justifying every decision and explaining every choice to clients who questioned his expertise. Isabella’s complete confidence in his judgment felt like a gift - one that reminded him why he had fallen for her analytical mind and decisive nature thirty years earlier.
“There’s something else I want to discuss with you,” he said, closing his notebook. “I’ve been thinking about that conversation you had with Maggie, about the inn’s opening celebration.”
She looked up. “Yeah?”
“Well, there’s a place on the island I think you should see, somewhere that might inspire some ideas for the event. If you have time this afternoon, I’d love to show you.”
She looked curious. “What kind of place?”
“Well, it’s difficult to describe,” he said with a small smile. “Better experienced than explained. It’s nothing formal, just part of the island that most visitors never see.”
She hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Okay, I’m intrigued. When would we go?”
“How about after lunch? The tide will be right then.”
“The tide?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Trust me,” he said, standing up. “Wear comfortable shoes and clothes you don’t mind getting a little damp.”
Thomas would take her to a mysterious place that required precise tide timing and comfortable shoes. Whatever he wanted to show her, Isabella suspected it would be another step away from the safe professional distance they'd maintained.
The question was whether she was ready to follow where he led - and what truths might be waiting in the places most visitors never saw.
CHAPTER 9
At two o’clock, Thomas met Isabella at the small dock behind the inn. He’d brought two kayaks - the stable, sit-on-top models - suitable for navigating the island’s tidal creeks.
“We’re going kayaking?” Isabella asked, eyeing the boats with a mixture of apprehension and interest. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.”
“Oh, it’s like riding a bike,” Thomas said, handing her a life vest. “And these are designed for stability, not speed. The water is calm in these creeks, and we won’t go far from shore, I promise.”
She put on the life vest without further objection and watched carefully as Thomas demonstrated how to board the kayak and use the paddle. Even though she was initially hesitant, she managed the process with her characteristic determination, settling into the seat with growing confidence.
“The place I want to show you is about twenty minutes from here,” Thomas said as they pushed off from the dock. “We’ll follow this creek behind the inn and then branch off into a smaller waterway that leads to a hidden cove.”
As they paddled, the developed portion of the island gradually gave way to pristine salt marshes. Tall spartina grass waved in the breeze, creating a golden-green landscape that stretched toward the horizon. Great blue herons stood sentinel in the shallows, while osprey circled overhead, scanning the water for fish.
“This is beautiful,” Isabella said, pausing to take in the view. “I had no idea this was back here so close to the inn.”
