Page 82 of The Wexley Inn
“Overwhelmed, happy, terrified that it’s all going to fall apart,” she laughed. “Normal opening night feelings, I think.”
“It’s not going to fall apart. Look at what you’ve built. This is real. This is success.”
Emma appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt the lovebirds, but people are asking when you’re going to give an official welcome speech. Luella says dinner service is ready whenever you are.”
Isabella took a deep breath. “Now or never.”
“Now,” Thomas said firmly. “Definitely now.”
They returned to the entrance hall, where Margaret had gathered the guests. The crowd quieted as Isabella stepped forward, Thomas behind her.
“Thank you all for being here tonight,” Isabella began. “When I first saw this inn last May, it was in severe disrepair, but I could see its bones - the incredible craftsmanship, the history, the potential to be something truly special again.” She looked at Thomas. “I couldn’t have brought this vision to life alone. Thomas Langley and his exceptional team understood exactly what the building needed. They treated every detail with reverence and preserved what could be saved, restored what couldn’t. This inn exists because of collaboration - between past and present, between preservation and progress, between vision and execution.”
Applause rippled through the crowd.
“But this inn isn’t just ours. It belongs to this island, to this community that celebrated here over the past one hundred fifty-three years, and tonight we’re honored to return it to you - restored, renewed, and ready to serve its purpose again as a gathering place.”
More applause.
Thomas stepped forward. “Many of you have known me your whole lives. You knew my father and watched me grow up here. You supported my business over the years. This island has been my home for almost fifty years, but this project - ” he gestured around the inn - “this has been the most meaningful work of my career. Not just because the building is beautiful, but because it represents partnership in its truest form. Isabella and I built this together, combining our strengths, and neither of us could have achieved it alone. The Wexley Inn is open,” Thomas said. “Welcome home.”
The applause was thunderous.
Luella announced that dinner was served, and the crowd moved toward the dining room, where long tables had been set with period linens and candlelight, laden with Lowcountry specialties.
Isabella and Thomas moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and answering questions.
“We did it,” she whispered to Thomas during a brief moment alone.
“We did it,” Thomas said.
Hours later, after the guests had departed, the staff had cleaned up, the overnight guests had retired to their rooms, and the fires had burned to embers, Thomas and Isabella stood on the front porch.
“How does success feel?” he asked.
“Exhausting, exhilarating, and surreal.” She leaned against him. “How about you?”
“Same, plus grateful and hopeful.” He turned to face her. “I love you, Isabella Montgomery. Thank you for giving us this second chance.”
“I love you too.” She touched his face gently.
They kissed on the porch of the inn they’d restored together. The building was witnessing this moment just as it had witnessed one hundred fifty-plus years of other moments - celebrations and sorrows, beginnings and endings.
Some foundations, it turned out, could bear weight again.
Some love stories, with enough courage, honesty, and work, could really have second chances.
The Wexley Inn stood restored, ready for its next chapter, just like them.
EPILOGUE
Six Months Later
Isabella sat on the veranda of The Wexley Inn on a warm June evening with her laptop open to some boring financial reports. They did show steady profitability, which was great. She also read reviews praising the character and comforts of her new inn while answering emails from guests requesting reservations.
The inn had exceeded all projections. Word of mouth had spread throughout the Lowcountry and beyond. Travel magazines had featured it. The Historical Society had used it for events, and Emma’s consultancy was thriving, with the inn as her showcase project.
Thomas emerged from inside carrying two glasses of sweet tea and settled into the rocking chair beside her. He’d moved into Isabella’s cottage, his own sold to a young couple who’d fallen in love with it just as Isabella had fallen in love with him. Isabella had moved into the inn so she could be there for the day-to-day operations.
