Chapter 2 #2
That was the understatement of the year.
Her expression gave away little as she stepped back to allow him to enter. “Please come in. I’ve set up in what was once the inn’s library.”
He followed her through the familiar back hallway, noticing how she moved with the same graceful efficiency he remembered.
The scent of her perfume - something with a subtle note of jasmine - briefly took him back in time to university hallways and late-night study sessions.
He found himself noting details he had no business noticing - the graceful line of her neck, the way she still twisted her pen when thinking, the wedding ring that was notably absent from her left hand.
The library was just as he remembered it, though the furniture was dusty and the once-rich curtains hung faded and limp. She had set up a folding table with her laptop, various folders, and what appeared to be preliminary renovation plans.
“Would you like some coffee?” she offered, gesturing to a thermos. “I made it myself, but it’s not too bad.”
“Thank you,” he said, accepting a cup, grateful for something to do with his hands. “So, about the inn.”
She appeared to relax a bit as they shifted into professional territory.
“Yes, I made an offer on it six weeks ago and finally closed last week. I plan to restore it as a working inn with modern amenities, while respecting its historical character and significance to the island.”
“It’s an ambitious project,” he said. “This place hasn’t operated as an actual inn in at least fifteen years.”
“Seventeen,” Isabella corrected. “The previous owner used it as a summer home for a few years and then left it vacant. But the structure is fundamentally sound, I think, according to the inspection.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “I would want to verify that myself. You know, these inspectors sometimes miss things in buildings this old, especially if they don’t know much about historical construction methods.”
“And I would expect nothing less.” Isabella pulled out a folder and handed it to him. “These are my preliminary ideas and the areas that I’ve identified as priorities. Of course, I would value your professional assessment.”
He took the folder and examined the contents. Despite the complete awkwardness of their reunion, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the project. The Wexley Inn was an important historical building and one that deserved a proper restoration.
For the next forty-five minutes, they moved through the building together, clipboard and camera in hand, discussing structural issues, preservation concerns, and renovation priorities.
Their conversation remained strictly professional.
He found himself overly aware of her proximity - when she leaned over to point out details on the plans, or brushed past him in narrow doorways.
As they inspected the grand staircase, he pointed out the craftsmanship of the original banister.
“This is hand-carved black walnut. You know, you don’t see work like this anymore.
It needs restoration, because replacing this would be a crime.
” As he ran his hand along the carved banister, he remembered Isabella doing the same thing during their college visits to historic homes.
She'd always had an instinct for quality craftsmanship.
It was one of the things that had drawn him to her.
She nodded. “Of course, I agree completely. I want to preserve all of the original elements, if possible.”
“The upstairs floor will need to be reinforced to meet some modern safety codes, if you’re having guests,” Thomas said. “And the plumbing throughout is absolutely ancient. Complete replacement there.”
“What about electrical?”
“Same. Full rewiring, I’m afraid. That can be done without damaging the plaster, if we’re very careful, but it certainly won’t be cheap.”
They moved carefully through each room, the initial awkwardness fading into a shared professional focus. Thomas was impressed by Isabella’s knowledge and the effort she clearly put into planning the renovation. She understood both the practical and aesthetic challenges of the project.
When they reached the third floor, she pointed out water damage on the ceiling. “Luella mentioned a leak that was never properly fixed.”
“Oh, Luella told you about that?” Thomas asked, surprised.
“Yes, she was quite, shall we say, informative when I arrived yesterday.” Isabella’s tone was dry. “She also told me that she comes with the property, which my real estate agent conveniently failed to mention to me.”
Thomas couldn’t help but smile. “You know, Luella has outlasted three owners. I don’t think anybody has seriously tried to make her leave since old Mr. Preston back in the nineties. That didn’t end well for him.”
“Oh?” Isabella said, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, let’s just say Mr. Preston discovered that the health department takes anonymous complaints about restaurant code violations very seriously.” Thomas smiled. “Especially when they come from someone who knows every detail of the kitchen’s operation.”
Isabella laughed, a genuine sound that momentarily bridged the gap of the years between them. “I suspected she might be a formidable opponent, so I’m thinking it might be wiser to just consider her an ally.”
The sound of her laughter hit him like a physical blow. He’d forgotten how her laugh could light up a room, how it used to make him feel like the luckiest man alive.“You’re very wise indeed,” Thomas said.
They finished their inspection on the back porch, where he pointed out the areas of structural concern.
“Well, overall, I think it’s in better shape than I expected,” he said, looking at his notes. “The foundation is solid. Most of the issues seem to be cosmetic, or they are systems that would need updating regardless. It’s definitely a significant project, but doable.”
“And is it a project that you’d be interested in taking on?
” Isabella asked very directly, meeting his eyes for perhaps the first time since he arrived.
When their eyes met, Thomas felt the familiar jolt he'd experienced the first time he'd seen her in Professor Martinez's architectural history class.
Thirty years, and she could still knock the breath out of him with a single look.
He held her gaze, carefully considering his response.
Working with Isabella would mean months of regular contact, managing not only the complexities of this major renovation but also their tangled personal history.
The wisest choice would be to suggest someone else, perhaps another contractor from Charleston.
However, The Wexley Inn deserved the best restoration possible.
And despite their past, he knew he was the right person for the job.
“Yes,” he said. “I’d be interested. I’d need to work up a detailed estimate, of course, and a timeline. And there are the review board approvals to consider.”
“I understand,” she said, nodding. “So how long will it take to prepare a proposal?”
“Two weeks should suffice. I’d want my structural engineer to come in for a thorough assessment first.”
“That sounds reasonable,” she said, closing her notebook. “Just to be clear, Thomas, this is a professional relationship. Whatever happened between us in the past is irrelevant to this project.”
She delivered the statement calmly, but Thomas didn’t miss the hint of steel beneath her words.
“Of course, agreed,” he said. “The inn deserves our best work, regardless of personal history.”
As he got ready to leave, they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the gravel drive. Through the window, he saw Vivian Pierce approaching the front door, impeccably dressed as she always was, in a cream linen suit, even though it was getting hotter by the moment.
“Seems you have another visitor,” Thomas said. “Vivian Pierce. She’s vice president of the Lowcountry Ladies Club and the self-appointed guardian of anything to do with Wexley Island.”
Isabella looked out the window. “Well, I’ve done my research on the key island residents, and she’s on the architectural review board as well, right?”
“And six other committees,” he said. “She’ll be very interested in your plans for the inn. Very interested.”
“Yeah, I’m getting the impression that that’s not necessarily a good thing.”
“Well, let’s just say Vivian has strong opinions about how things need to be done on this island. She and I have had our, shall we say, ‘professional disagreements’ over the years.”
Isabella straightened her shoulders. He remembered that gesture well from their university days when she was preparing to face a difficult presentation or professor.
“Well, I guess I’d better make a good impression then.”
“Would you like me to leave?” Thomas offered, although he was very curious to observe their interaction.
“There’s no need,” she said with a small smile. “As you said, she’ll be interested in my plans. Might as well see that I’ve already engaged the island’s premier restoration specialist.”
The compliment was delivered casually, but it caught Thomas off guard. Before he could respond, there was a sharp knock at the front door.
“Shall we?” Isabella gestured toward the hallway.
As they walked to the front of the inn, Thomas couldn’t help but admire her composure.
Facing both him and Vivian Pierce in her first twenty-four hours on the island would have intimidated a lot of people, but Isabella just moved forward with the confidence of someone accustomed to navigating challenging situations.
When she opened the front door, Vivian’s perfectly composed expression registered brief surprise at seeing Thomas standing beside the inn’s new owner.
“Good morning,” Isabella said, trying to sound pleasant. “You must be Vivian. I’m Isabella Montgomery, the new owner of the inn. Please do come in.”
Vivian stepped inside, her gaze assessing both Isabella and Thomas before settling on Isabella with a pleasant smile.