Chapter 11
Thomas stood at his kitchen counter, chopping vegetables for dinner.
Emma would be arriving from Atlanta within the hour for her weekend visit, and he wanted to ensure they shared a proper meal.
These visits had become more frequent since she’d met Isabella and shown interest in the renovation, which pleased him but also made him a bit uneasy.
The sound of his phone ringing interrupted his methodical food preparation. He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and looked at the caller ID. It was Emma.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he answered. “Are you on your way?”
"Just crossed the causeway," she said, her tone a bit too casual. "Be there in fifteen.”
“Well, perfect timing. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Sounds great. Oh, and Dad, I was thinking maybe we could invite Isabella to join us tomorrow night. I brought some design magazines with ideas for the inn’s marketing materials I wanted to show her.”
He paused, his knife hovering over a red bell pepper. This was the third time Emma had suggested including her in their plans during her visits. While he appreciated his daughter’s acceptance of Isabella, he couldn’t help but wonder about her motivations.
“I’m sure Isabella has her own plans for the weekend,” he said carefully. “I thought we were going fishing tomorrow.”
“We can do both,” Emma chirped. “Fishing in the morning, dinner with Isabella in the evening. Besides, I already texted her to see if she’s free.”
Thomas sighed. “Emma, you shouldn’t put Isabella on the spot like that.”
“Oh, relax, Dad. I just asked if she had plans. She hasn’t even responded yet.” Her tone turned more serious. “Unless you don’t want her to join us for some reason. Is something wrong between you two? I thought the board meeting went well.”
“Everything is fine,” he said. “The meeting was a success. We got conditional approval with minimal modifications. But I don’t want you playing matchmaker, Emma. Isabella and I have a professional relationship, and it’s working well. I don’t want to complicate that unnecessarily.”
“Who said anything about matchmaking?” Emma replied with an exaggerated innocence that didn’t fool Thomas for a minute. “I just want to discuss those marketing ideas. That’s all. Very professional.”
He shook his head, though his daughter couldn’t see it. “We’ll talk about this when you get here.”
After hanging up, Thomas returned to his dinner preparations.
Emma’s interest in connecting with Isabella had shifted from initial wariness to active encouragement of a closer relationship.
While he appreciated that his daughter had formed her own positive opinion of Isabella, her transparent attempts at pairing them as a couple created a very awkward dynamic that he wasn’t sure how to navigate.
The truth was, his feelings for Isabella had grown increasingly complicated as they worked together.
Their professional collaboration had turned into genuine respect and a tentative friendship.
Moments like their kayaking trip to the hidden cove or their celebratory dessert after the board meeting had created a comfortable connection that might have suggested something deeper.
However, significant barriers remained, including the unresolved truth about why he had ended their relationship thirty years earlier.
Emma knew that story now, but Isabella didn’t, and until she did, any deeper connection between them would be built on an incomplete foundation.
The sound of Emma’s car in the driveway pulled Thomas from the thoughts he was having. He pushed aside his concerns and focused on welcoming his daughter, happy to see her regardless of her matchmaking schemes.
She burst through the door with her typical energy, dropping her weekend bag in the entryway, and hugged him.
An adult herself, she was a successful professional with her own life.
Still, something about her returning to the island always seemed to reconnect her with a more carefree version of herself.
“Something smells great,” she said, looking over his shoulder at the kitchen counter. “Please tell me that’s your famous paella.”
“With extra shrimp just for you,” he said. “So how was the drive?”
“Not bad. I left early enough to beat the worst of the Atlanta traffic.”
She moved around the kitchen with familiar ease, grabbing plates and glasses while Thomas finished making the meal.
“The island looks stunning right now with all the summer flowers blooming, and the evening light is breathtaking.”
“Best time of the year here,” Thomas agreed, “before the worst of the summer heat sets in, but warm enough for the beach.”
They settled into comfortable conversation as they finished dinner together, Emma sharing updates about her work projects and friends in Atlanta, while Thomas discussed recent developments at the inn.
It wasn’t until they were seated at the table, paella served and wine poured, that Emma returned to the subject of Isabella.
“So she texted back while we were eating,” she said casually, taking a sip of her wine. “She’s free tomorrow night and would be happy to join us for dinner. I said we could cook here rather than going out.”
Thomas gave his daughter a look. “You’re just determined to make this happen, aren’t you?”
Emma looked at him. “I like her, Dad. She’s smart, accomplished, and genuinely passionate about the inn. And yes, I’ve noticed how you talk about her. There’s something there, whether you want to admit it or not.”
“It’s complicated, Emma.”
“Life is complicated,” she countered. “It doesn’t mean you should avoid connections that could be meaningful.”
She put down her fork and turned more serious. “Mom has been gone for fifteen years. You’ve dedicated yourself to your work and to me, but what about your own happiness?”
He sighed, recognizing the genuine concern behind his daughter’s persistence. “I appreciate that you want me to be happy, Emma, but my history with Isabella isn’t something that can just be easily set aside. There are many things she doesn’t know, things that might change how she sees me.”
“You mean the real reason you left her?” Emma said quietly.
Thomas nodded, tracing the rim of his wine glass with his finger. “I made that decision without giving her any choice in the matter. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time.”
“Then tell her the truth now, Dad,” Emma suggested. “Allow her to decide how she feels about everything. Maybe she’ll be angry, but maybe she’ll understand. At least it’s the honest way to go about it.”
“And what if knowing hurts her all over again? Or makes working together impossible?”
“Dad, you taught me that sometimes you have to take risks even if you aren’t sure what the outcome will be. You’ll never know if you don’t try.”
Thomas thought about his daughter’s words, struck by her wisdom. When had his little girl grown up into such an intelligent, well-spoken woman?
“When did you get so smart about relationships?” he asked with a slight smile.
Emma chuckled. “I observe and learn. Just because I’m still single doesn’t mean I don’t understand how people work.” Her expression softened. “I just want to see you happy, Dad. And I think Isabella might be part of that happiness, if you give it a chance to build without being on shifting sand.”
“One dinner,” Thomas finally conceded. “But no obvious matchmaking, Emma. Promise me.”
“Scout’s honor,” she replied, holding her hand in a mock pledge. “Though I was never actually a scout, so take that as you will.”
He shook his head and smiled. “You’re impossible.”
* * *
The next morning dawned clear and perfect for fishing.
The temperature was mild, there was a light breeze, and visibility on the water was excellent.
Thomas and Emma set out early in his small boat, going to her favorite spot in the tidal creek where redfish could be found this time of year pretty reliably.
Fishing had always been their special activity since Emma was old enough to hold a rod, a tradition that continued into her adulthood.
Some of their best conversations had happened on these little excursions, quiet, peaceful mornings surrounded by beauty, creating space for meaningful connections.
“Do you remember when I caught that huge redfish when I was ten?” Emma asked as they anchored in a little cove. “The one that was almost as big as I was?”
“Oh, how could I forget?” Thomas laughed, preparing their rods. “And then you refused to let me help you land it and insisted on bringing it in yourself, even though it nearly pulled you overboard.”
“Well, stubbornness is a family trait,” Emma said with a grin. “Mama always said I got a double dose, one from each of you.”
“Well, she was right about that,” he agreed. “She used to say watching us argue was like seeing the same person disagree with themselves.”
Emma cast her line with practiced skill, the lure landing exactly where she intended.
"I miss her," Emma said quietly. "But it's different now.
The missing doesn't swallow me whole anymore.
Sometimes I feel guilty about that, like if I'm not actively hurting, I'm somehow forgetting her. Is that weird?"
“No, not weird at all,” Thomas said, casting his own line. “Grief changes over time. The love remains, but the sharp edges of loss start to soften.”
They fished in silence for a while, the casting and reeling creating a meditative quality. Birds called overhead, and occasionally a fish jumped nearby, creating ripples across the otherwise calm water.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about making a change,” Emma said eventually, her tone casual. “I mean professionally.”
“What kind of change?” he asked, giving her his full attention.
“Well, I think I might leave the agency and start my own marketing consultancy. You know, focus on specifically helping traditional businesses develop authentic digital presences without losing their core identity.”