Page 46 of The Wexley Inn
“Oh, that’s so fascinating,” Isabella said, with genuine interest. “So the marketing became a way for you to explore that interest from a different angle.”
“Yes, exactly. I still love architecture and design. They inform my approach to marketing, especially with businesses that have physical locations like the inn, but understanding how space influences experiences is critical to creating authentic marketing materials.”
As Emma explained her philosophy further, Thomas watched as Isabella engaged with her - the way she asked thoughtful questions and offered relevant insights from her own career in hotel management. The two women clearly connected on both professional and personal levels, finding common ground despite their different backgrounds and generations.
Eventually, Emma looked at her watch and stood up. “You know, I just remembered I promised to video chat with a friend at ten. Can’t believe I almost forgot.” Her tone implied she hadn’t truly forgotten, and the timing of this sudden obligation seemed oddly convenient.
Thomas gave his daughter a knowing look. This was clearly a part of her subtle matchmaking strategy. “Of course. I can clean up.”
“I should probably be going anyway,” Isabella said, rising as well. “It’s getting late, and I have an early meeting with a plumbing contractor tomorrow.”
“Oh, at least stay and finish your coffee,” Emma suggested. “The night is too beautiful to just rush off.” She gave Isabella a warm hug. “Thanks again for the book. It’s absolutely perfect for what I had in mind.”
After Emma disappeared inside, Thomas and Isabella found themselves alone on the deck, the soft sounds of the marsh creating a gentle soundtrack to their moment. Rather than awkwardness, Thomas felt comfortable in the quiet between them.
“Emma is really great,” Isabella said after a moment. “You must be so very proud of her.”
“Oh, I am,” he said. “She’s the best thing in my life. Smart, kind, determined. Even during her rebellious teenage years, I never doubted she would find her way.”
“Well, she seems to have inherited your eye for detail and your appreciation of craftsmanship. I noticed how precisely she arranged the table setting earlier.”
He laughed softly. “Oh, that’s her mother’s influence. Sarah was meticulous about presentation. She said the experience of a meal begins before the first bite is taken.”
“A philosophy that applies to hospitality as well,” Isabella said. “The guest experience starts the moment they see the property, long before they check in.”
“Exactly why the exterior restoration of the inn is as important as the interior,” he said. “First impressions really matter.”
They fell into an easy conversation about the renovation’s progress, the upcoming challenges, and their shared vision for the completed project.
“I really should be going,” Isabella said again, although she made no immediate move to leave. “Thank you for the lovely evening. Dinner was wonderful.”
“Well, thank you for coming,” Thomas replied, “and for being so generous with Emma about her marketing ideas. She respects your opinion a great deal.”
“The feeling is mutual. Her insights about positioning the inn digitally while honoring the historical character are exactly what I’ve been looking for.”
Isabella smiled. “You’ve raised an exceptional young woman, Thomas.”
“I had help,” he said. “Sarah was a fantastic mother.”
Isabella nodded. “May I ask, if it’s not too personal, how you managed after she passed away? Raising Emma alone while running your business must have been incredibly challenging.”
The question was asked with such genuine care that he found himself answering honestly. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Emma was in elementary school when Sarah was diagnosed the first time. The years of Sarah’s illness were a balancing act, being there for both of them while trying to keep the business afloat. After she died..." He paused, surprised by how the memory could still tighten his chest after all these years. "After she died, Emma and I became each other's lifeline. We grieved differently - she needed to talk, I needed to work - but we held each other up through the worst of it. I don't know if I would've survived those first years without her."
“Well, that kind of bond is precious,” Isabella said.
“It sure is. Emma wanted to move back to the island after graduation to help me, but I insisted she pursue her career in Atlanta. Sarah would have wanted that for her, to build her own life, not sacrifice her opportunities out of concern for me.”
Isabella looked at him for a moment before speaking. “You’ve always put others first, haven’t you? Emma, Sarah, your clients, the island community. Who takes care of you, Thomas?”
The unexpected question hit him like a physical blow. No one had asked him that in years, maybe ever. Isabella had always seen through his defenses, even in college, always known when he was carrying more than he let on. Thirty years later, she still possessed that uncanny ability to cut through his carefully maintained self-sufficiency to the vulnerable truth beneath. He had indeed structured his life around caring for others rather than himself.
“I manage,” he finally said, not quite answering the question.
She seemed to recognize his discomfort and gracefully changed the subject. “I should really head home. Early morning tomorrow.”
He walked her to the car, the night air cool against their skin. At her vehicle, she turned to face him. “Thanks again for dinner. It was lovely to spend time with you and Emma outside of work.”
“We enjoyed having you,” he said. “Perhaps we could do it again sometime.”
