Chapter 8 #2
Before either could respond to this thinly veiled criticism, Maggie appeared at Isabella’s elbow. “Vivian, darling, Eloise Whitaker is looking for you. Something about the hospital fundraiser committee meeting.”
With a final tight smile, Vivian excused herself and left Isabella feeling like she had just survived a minor skirmish in an ongoing war.
“Oh, don’t let her rattle you,” Maggie said softly. “Vivian’s influence isn’t what it used to be, even though she believes it is. This is especially true since I became president of the Ladies’ Club.”
“Well, she seems really determined to oppose this renovation,” Isabella said.
Thomas and Maggie exchanged a knowing look.
“It’s not just about the inn,” Thomas said. “Vivian had her eye on the Ladies’ Club presidency for years before Maggie was elected, and before that, she lost the Historical Society chairmanship to my mom.”
“Oh, that’s ancient history,” Maggie waved dismissively. “The point is, her opposition is more about maintaining her perceived authority than any actual concern about your renovation plans.”
“Well, that doesn’t make her any less dangerous to the project,” Isabella said.
“True enough,” Thomas agreed, “but you’re making the right moves right now, today. I’ve spoken with all the board members I could get to, and they all seem impressed by your commitment to historical accuracy.”
The garden party went on as Isabella and Daphne displayed their formal design boards to an attentive crowd.
Thomas stayed nearby, offering technical insights when needed and adding credibility to their plans.
When guests began their gracious Southern farewells - including air kisses and promises to ‘do lunch soon’ - Isabella felt cautiously optimistic.
She’d won hearts and minds today, and in a community where personal relationships matter more than policy positions, that could be decisive.
“You were magnificent,” Maggie declared. “Knowledgeable, passionate, gracious, even when Vivian tried to provoke you. I’d say you’ve won over at least two-thirds of the influential ladies here today.”
“Well, I couldn’t have done it without your support,” Isabella said. “Or Thomas’s,” she added, glancing at him.
“Well, I’ll call today a success,” Maggie said with satisfaction. “Now, why don’t you all stay for a more relaxed drink on the veranda? After managing Vivian and her cronies, you deserve a moment of peace.”
Daphne declined, explaining she had dinner plans with Jake, but Isabella and Thomas accepted the invitation. Soon, they were settled in comfortable wicker chairs on Maggie’s veranda, gin and tonics in hand, watching the late afternoon sun cast a golden light across the carefully tended gardens.
“I’ve always loved this view,” Thomas said, looking relaxed for the first time that day. “Your parents had the best garden parties on the island, Maggie.”
“Oh, Mother did love her entertaining,” Maggie agreed with a fond smile, “though I do think she enjoyed the planning more than the actual events. She was always the happiest when orchestrating social maneuvers.”
“Like mother, like daughter,” Thomas teased.
Maggie laughed. “Guilty as charged, although I like to think my orchestrations serve a greater purpose than just social status.”
Isabella watched the friendly exchange with interest, understanding there was a depth of history between Thomas and Maggie that she hadn’t fully appreciated.
“How long have you two known each other?”
“Oh, forever,” Maggie said. "Thomas's mama, Mary, was my dearest friend and my partner in crime on every committee this island ever invented. When she passed, I promised her I'd keep an eye on this boy of hers. Though I suspect she'd be mighty pleased with how he turned out."
"Maggie stepped in when I needed guidance the most," Thomas said, his voice thick with gratitude.
"After my mom died, and years later my dad passed away, when I was trying to figure out how to raise Emma and keep the business going.
.. well, let's just say I wouldn't have made it without her wisdom. "
Something in his tone - a hint of deeper meaning - made Isabella wonder if those “difficult times” included the period after they broke up. Before she could think any further about it, Maggie changed the subject.
“Speaking of navigating difficulties, Isabella, have you given any thought to the inn’s opening celebration? I know it may seem premature, but those events take planning, especially if you want to make the right impression on the island.”
"I want to honor everyone who's loved this place - from the original builders to the families who celebrated here, to the island residents who've watched over it during the empty years. An event that bridges past and future, showing how preservation can breathe new life into cherished spaces."
“Perfect,” Maggie nodded. “And the timing? I assume you’re aiming for the holiday season?”
“Well, that’s the goal. Though with renovation timelines, it’s always subject to change.”
“Well, we’re slightly ahead of schedule on the structural work,” Thomas said. “Barring any major surprises, a holiday opening is realistic.”
“Wonderful!” Maggie clapped her hands together. “A Christmas grand opening is going to be so ideal. The inn was always known for its holiday celebrations in the past.”
As they talked about potential themes and guest lists for the opening event, Isabella found herself enjoying the conversation.
It felt good to look beyond the immediate challenges of renovation to the inn’s future as a functioning business and community gathering place.
She’d hardly let herself think of that so far.
She was so focused on all of the renovations that needed to be done.
The sun began to set when they finally said their goodbyes to Maggie. As they walked to their vehicles, Thomas paused beside Isabella’s car.
“You handled everything beautifully today,” he said. “Vivian didn’t know what hit her.”
She laughed softly. “Well, I’ve dealt with difficult people before. Corporate hotel chains have their own version of Vivian Pierce.”
“Still, navigating island politics isn’t easy for newcomers, and you’ve adapted remarkably well.” He hesitated and then added, “You know, you’ve always had that gift - seeing the heart of the situation and finding a way through it.”
The unexpected intimacy of the moment took Isabella by surprise.
His voice carried the same warmth she remembered from those late college nights when they worked side by side on challenging design problems, when his praise meant everything to her young heart.
Thirty years later, it still had the power to quicken her pulse.
The familiar warmth in his voice sent a warning through her chest. This was exactly how it had started before - the easy collaboration, the shared vision, the feeling that they were perfect partners.
And then one day, without warning or explanation, it had all disappeared.
She couldn't let herself forget that pain, no matter how natural it felt to fall back into their old rhythm.
“Thank you,” she said, not sure what else to say.
Thomas seemed to realize he'd crossed their carefully maintained professional boundaries, his eyes searching her face as if wondering whether she’d noticed the shift in his tone, the way ‘always’ linked their past to their present.
“Well, I guess I should get going. Early start tomorrow with the window restoration team.”
“Of course. I’ll see you there at the inn.”
As she drove back to her cottage, she found herself thinking about the day’s events.
The garden party had been a professional success and may have secured crucial support for the renovation.
Still, she’d also revealed new dimensions of her relationship with Thomas—not just as contractor and client, but as two people with a complex shared history.
For the first time since arriving on the island, Isabella allowed herself to acknowledge what she'd been fighting - the growing attraction that felt both thrilling and terrifying.
But with that acknowledgment came a sharp reminder: Thomas had walked away from her once without explanation.
What guarantee did she have that he wouldn't do it again?
The careful professional distance wasn't just protection for her heart - it was a lesson learned the hard way.
It was a possibility she'd forbidden herself to consider until now.
Though it frightened her, she couldn't deny the relief that came with simply acknowledging what had been growing between them.
The inn was revealing more than architectural treasures - it was excavating feelings she'd thought were safely buried.
* * *
Thomas knelt in the crawlspace under the inn’s east wing with his flashlight in his hand.
He examined the ancient plumbing system that had been uncovered during the morning work.
What had started as a routine inspection had revealed an unexpected complication.
The original pipes were embedded in the foundation in a manner not depicted on any of the blueprints.
“Pass me the camera, would you, Wade?” he called to his foreman.
Wade handed down a digital camera that they used to document discoveries.
“How bad is it?”
“Not catastrophic, but definitely a redesign,” he said, carefully photographing the pipe configuration from multiple angles. “We’re going to need to reroute the new plumbing instead of running it where we planned.”
After taking sufficient documentation, Thomas made his way back to the access point, emerging dusty but relieved that they had caught the issue before proceeding with the installation.
“Let’s get these images to Isabella and the plumbing contractor,” he said. “We’re going to need to revise those plans before tomorrow’s work begins.”