Chapter 7 #2
“Figured y’all might be gettin’ a little peckish,” she announced as she set the basket down. “Can’t fight island politics on an empty stomach. Fresh biscuits, fruit, and that chicken salad you liked so much yesterday, Isabella.”
“Oh, Luella, you’re a treasure,” Isabella said. “Please join us. Maggie was just telling me about Vivian’s latest efforts to derail our renovation.”
Luella snorted. "Honey, that woman's been tryin' to run this island since she was knee-high to a cricket. Some folks just can't help themselves."
Maggie laughed. “Well put, Luella. I’ve been suggesting Isabella join my garden party next weekend to win over some of the Ladies Club members before the review board meeting.”
“That’s a good plan,” Luella said. “You should have Thomas there, too. Some of these ladies have known him since he was a little boy. They trust his judgment on these historical matters, whether Vivian likes it or not.”
Isabella hesitated. “I’m not sure if Thomas would want to get involved in social politics like this.”
“Nonsense,” Luella said firmly. “This is his project, too. He knows how these island games are played better than most.”
Before Isabella could respond, they heard the sound of Thomas’s truck pulling up outside. Moments later, he was in the doorway, looking kind of surprised to find the three women in conversation.
“Morning, ladies,” he greeted them. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Not at all,” Maggie replied. “In fact, we were just discussing you.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking between them. “Should I be worried?”
“Probably,” Luella said. “Maggie’s recruiting forces for battle with Vivian Pierce.”
Isabella quickly explained the situation while Thomas listened, his expression growing more serious.
“I’m not surprised,” he said. “Vivian’s never forgiven me for convincing the board to approve composite roofing materials on the Palmetto Street renovations last year.
She was dead set on requiring historically accurate wooden shingles, even though they were a fire hazard and had serious maintenance issues. ”
“Well, then you understand why your presence at my garden party would be valuable,” Maggie said. “Your expertise lends credibility to Isabella’s vision.”
He glanced over at Isabella. “If you think it would help, I’m happy to attend.”
“I think it would,” she admitted. “Your knowledge of the island’s architectural history is far more extensive than mine. And as Luella pointed out, many of these women have known you for many years.”
“Well, then it’s settled,” Maggie said. “Saturday at two o’clock, semi-formal garden attire. Thomas, you know where I live.” She checked her watch. “Oh, I should be going. I have a foundation board meeting at eleven.”
After Maggie and Luella departed, Isabella and Thomas found themselves alone in the quiet dining room.
Sunlight continued to stream through the windows.
Isabella found herself acutely aware of his presence in the large space, the way he moved with quiet confidence, the familiar cadence of his voice, the way afternoon light caught the silver threading through his dark hair.
“You don’t have to attend the garden party if you’d rather not,” Isabella said, feeling like she should give him an out. “I know these social events can be boring. They’re not really my thing either.”
He smiled slightly. “Oh, I’ve survived my share of island functions over the years. Besides, I’m very invested in this project, just like you are.”
She nodded. “Well, thank you. I have to admit, I didn’t quite anticipate this level of opposition when I bought the inn.”
“Wexley Island resists change by default,” he said as he walked over to examine the newly exposed crown molding along the dining room ceiling.
“It’s not personal, although Vivian certainly makes it feel that way.
She opposed my parents when they bought their house back in the ’70s because they weren’t ‘established island families’. ”
“And yet your family has been here for what, over fifty years now?” she asked, following his gaze as he looked at the plasterwork overhead.
“My father moved us here when I was four. He took a job as a caretaker at the Harrington Estate, which included the inn at that time. We lived in the groundskeeper’s cottage until I was in high school.”
This glimpse into Thomas’s childhood fascinated Isabella.
Despite their history and current professional relationship, she realized just how little she knew about his life before college or after their breakup.
Their conversations had always remained focused on renovations and very few personal details.
“Is that how you developed an interest in historical restoration, growing up around these old buildings?”
He nodded. “My dad taught me to respect the craftsmanship in these structures. He could run his hand along a piece of molding and tell you not just when it was carved, but which craftsman did the work, what tools he used, and probably even what he had for breakfast that morning. Said every piece of wood holds the story of the hands that shaped it. He believed these buildings held the island’s stories, and preserving them was preserving history itself. ”
“Well, he sounds like he was a remarkable man.”
“Oh, he was.” He turned to face her directly. “He would have approved of what you’re doing here, Isabella. Not just restoring the building, but honoring its purpose as a gathering place and a part of community life.”
The unexpected personal comment and the warmth in his voice when he said her name caught Isabella completely off guard. For a moment, the professional distance they’d carefully maintained broke down, and she glimpsed the young man who had once shared his dreams with her under Carolina stars.
“That means a lot to me,” she said, trying to keep it professional.
They stood silently for a moment, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts and thirty years of careful distance.
Thomas’s eyes searched her face with intensity that made her pulse race, and for a dangerous second, she thought he might say something that would change everything.
Instead, as if by mutual understanding, they both stepped back from the edge.
“You know, I’d better check on the electrical work upstairs,” Thomas said, pointing toward the hallway. “The inspector’s coming tomorrow, and I want to make sure everything is up to code.”
“Of course,” she said, nodding. “I need to review the kitchen plans with Daphne before we meet with the health department next week.”
As Thomas left, Isabella found herself thinking about their brief personal exchange. Despite their best efforts to maintain strictly professional boundaries, moments like these continued to occur - small windows into the man Thomas had become over the years. So familiar, yet so different.
These glimpses both intrigued and unsettled her, despite her determination to keep emotional distance.
The Thomas she was discovering - weathered by loss, deepened by responsibility, yet still possessing that fundamental integrity she'd fallen for - was somehow even more appealing than the young man she'd once loved.
She shook her head and refocused on the renovation plans spread across the makeshift table.
The inn was her priority and her future.
Whatever history was between her and Thomas belonged firmly in the past, and she wasn’t going to complicate the present that she was working so hard to build.
Yet even as she made this resolution, Isabella couldn't shake the feeling that the past and future were becoming increasingly complex to keep separate.
Some foundations, once disturbed, refuse to return to their original positions.