Page 81 of The Wexley Inn
The day of the grand opening arrived with clear, cold weather - perfect for a Lowcountry winter. Isabella met Thomas on the front porch of the inn.
“Big day,” he said, smiling.
“Huge day,” she said. “Are you ready?”
“With you, always.”
As they walked inside, Emma smiled. “There’s the woman of the hour,” she said, waving Isabella over. “The photographer wants some shots of you in front of the inn before guests arrive. Natural light showing the building at its best.”
Isabella spent the next hour being positioned and repositioned, feeling quite self-conscious but trusting Emma’s vision. The photographer also wanted pictures of Thomas with his crew and gathered them on the porch, then took photos of Luella in her spotless kitchen.
“These are going to be great for the website,” Emma said, reviewing the images on the camera. “Historic elegance meets modern hospitality, exactly the branding we want.”
By three o’clock, everything was ready. The inn was glowing with candlelight and greenery, with fires burning in every fireplace, and the scent of pine, cinnamon, and wood smoke floating through the air. Guest rooms stood prepared for the first-night visitors - three couples who’d booked the inaugural weekend, paying premium rates for the privilege of being first.
The staff gathered for one final huddle. Isabella addressed them in the entrance hall, with Thomas beside her, both dressed for the elegant evening - Isabella in a deep green velvet dress and Thomas in a dark suit that made him look devastatingly handsome.
“Thank you,” Isabella said, her voice catching a bit. “Thank you for believing in this project and for bringing your skills and passion to make it succeed. Tonight we’re not just opening an inn, we’re reviving a piece of this island’s history. We’re creating a place where people can come, connect, and make new memories. That is sacred work, and I’m honored to do it with all of you.”
The staff applauded, clearly moved. Luella stepped forward, her expression stern but her eyes bright.
“This whole building’s been standing here for one hundred fifty-three years,” she said, “and I’ve been working here forty-three of those years. I’ve seen owners come and go, seen some renovations succeed and fail, seen this place at its best and at its worst.” She looked at Thomas and Isabella. “But I’ve never seen anybody put as much heart into restoring it as you two have. You didn’t just fix this building - you understood its soul. And it’s going to make this inn special again.”
Isabella felt the tears threatening to fall and blinked them back as Thomas squeezed her hand.
“All right,” Margaret Lee, the new assistant manager, said. “Doors open in thirty minutes. Let’s show this island what we’ve built.”
The next hour was organized chaos as guests began arriving at five - island residents who’d been invited, local dignitaries, and members of the historical society, even the architectural review board. Maggie arrived early, elegant in navy silk, greeting everyone with the social grace of someone who’d been doing this her entire life, and she probably had.
“You should be proud,” she told Isabella. “This is really extraordinary.”
Vivian Pierce arrived with her usual entourage, and Isabella steeled herself for criticism, but for once, Vivian surprised her.
“Isabella,” she said, extending her hand. “I must acknowledge that you’ve done exceptional work here. The restoration is historically accurate. It was a difficult balance to achieve that and make it livable.” She paused. “I may have underestimated your capabilities.”
It was as close to an apology as Vivian Pierce was likely to offer. Isabella accepted it graciously.
“Thank you. That means a great deal coming from someone with your knowledge of the island.”
Even Grayson Williams made an appearance, though his stay was very brief. He congratulated Isabella with the practiced charm that didn’t quite reach his eyes and acknowledged Thomas with a curt nod before departing.
“He knows he lost,” Thomas said quietly. “That’s got to sting.”
“Good,” Isabella said without sympathy.
By 6 p.m., the inn was full of people laughing, talking, admiring the restoration, and eating Luella’s fantastic food. Musicians played period-appropriate holiday music in the parlor. Christmas decorations glowed in the candlelight.
Robert Henderson found them in the library, where they’d retreated briefly for a moment of quiet.
“Congratulations,” he said. “This is some of the best restoration work I’ve seen in fifty years. Thomas, your father would be proud.”
“Thanks, Robert. That means everything.”
“And, Ms. Montgomery, you’ve created something special here. Not just a hotel, but a genuine connection to the island’s past. I’m glad you chose to stay.”
After he left, Thomas pulled Isabella close.
“How are you holding up?”
