Chapter 12
Isabella straightened her linen dress as she entered the Victorian-style headquarters of the Lowcountry Ladies Club.
The monthly luncheon was in full swing - elegant women in their summer linens, perfectly styled hair catching the afternoon light, the melodic sound of Southern drawls blending with the gentle percussion of crystal against fine china.
Money and tradition permeated every corner of the room.
Although she had attended a few of these gatherings since arriving on Wexley, she still felt the subtle scrutiny that always followed her entrance.
The brief lull in conversations was quickly replaced by glances masked with polite, closed-lip smiles.
“Isabella, darling,” Maggie Beaumont waved from a table near the window. It overlooked the carefully manicured gardens. “I’ve saved you a seat.”
Grateful for her friend’s reliable support, Isabella made her way across the room, exchanging greetings with several women who had warmed to her since the Architectural Review Board meeting. Their acceptance, while tentative, represented significant progress in her integration into island society.
“You look lovely,” Maggie said as Isabella sat beside her. “That color brings out your eyes beautifully.”
“Thank you,” Isabella said with a smile. “Although I think I could arrive in a potato sack and you would always find something complimentary to say.”
Maggie laughed, a warm, sincere sound that drew attention from nearby tables. “Oh, nonsense. You know I’m ruthlessly honest. Just ask Vivian.”
“Speaking of whom?” She nodded discreetly toward the entrance where Vivian Pierce had just arrived. Impeccably dressed in her pale pink suit that managed to look classic and yet intimidating.
“She doesn’t look at all pleased to see us together,” Isabella said quietly.
“Oh, Vivian hasn’t looked pleased about anything since 1992,” she said dryly. “Pay her no mind. Tell me instead about your dinner with Thomas and Emma. I heard it was quite enjoyable.”
Isabella almost choked on her water. “Wow, news really travels fast on this island.”
"Honey, faster than lightning through a wire fence," Maggie said, laughing.
"Betty at the market probably knew what y'all ate for dessert before you'd finished washing the dishes. Charlotte Stewart’s niece is dating one of the boys who works at the island market. He delivered groceries to Thomas yesterday morning and saw Emma setting a lovely table. Now, one doesn’t arrange flowers and use good china for a casual family dinner.”
Isabella shook her head, amused and disconcerted by the island’s efficient gossip network. “It was just dinner with colleagues. Emma wanted to discuss marketing ideas for the inn.”
Maggie hummed skeptically. “And did you discuss marketing the entire evening?”
“Among other things,” Isabella said. “Emma is very insightful about positioning the inn’s historical character for the contemporary audience.”
“Oh yes, she’s a clever girl,” Maggie agreed. “Takes after her father in that regard. Seeing beyond the surface of what truly matters to what truly matters.” She looked at Isabella with shrewd eyes. “And how was spending time with Thomas outside of work?”
Isabella tried to think of ways to deflect the question, but realized it was futile. “It was nice,” she said finally. “It’s different seeing him in his home environment with his daughter. He’s clearly an excellent father.”
“Oh, one of the best,” Maggie nodded. “Those two have been through a lot together. Sarah’s illness was devastating for them both, but they sure supported each other beautifully through it.”
Isabella felt a pang of sympathy, imagining Thomas and a younger version of Emma trying to navigate such profound loss together, alone. “He mentioned taking cooking classes after she passed, said he wanted to make sure Emma had good meals when she visited.”
“Well, that’s our Thomas,” Maggie said softly, “always thinking of others before himself. You know, it’s his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.
” She paused as servers approached with the first course, waiting until they had walked away before continuing.
“He cares for everyone else but rarely allows anyone to care for him.”
The observation resonated with Isabella and echoed her own question to Thomas the previous evening about who took care of him.
Before she could respond, Charlotte Stewart joined their table, followed by two other women Isabella only recognized from the garden party.
“Isabella, we were just discussing the inn renovation,” Charlotte said as she settled into her seat. “Eliza Wright mentioned the original woodwork in the main staircase has been completely restored. She says it’s magnificent.”
“Thomas’s team has done remarkable work,” Isabella confirmed. “The craftsmanship is really extraordinary.”
“Oh, Thomas has always had a gift for restoration,” one of the women commented. “Remember what he did with the Beaumont Library, Maggie? Those floors were beyond saving, according to every other contractor on the island.”
“And now they’re the envy of every home in The Palms,” Maggie said with pride. “Which reminds me, Isabella, have you given any more thought to our discussion about the inn’s opening celebration? December will be here before we know it.”
The conversation flowed easily to plans for the inn’s reopening, and several women offered suggestions about local organizations, caterers, and cross-promotion with some of the island businesses. Isabella appreciated the genuine interest and the valuable insights from community members.
It wasn’t until dessert was being served that she finally noticed Vivian Pierce making her way determinedly toward the table with a thin smile fixed on her perfectly made-up face.
“Isabella,” she said, greeting her with a very practiced cordiality. “I’ve been meaning to ask you how the paint analysis is progressing. Grayson mentioned that you’ve engaged a specialist from Charleston.”
“Yes, Dr. Eleanor Simmons from the Historical Preservation Institute,” Isabella said. “She’s the leading expert in historical paint analysis in the Southeast, and her preliminary findings should be available next week.”
“Oh, how thorough,” Vivian replied, her tone suggesting that maybe that was a little excessive. “But I understand you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Thomas Langley, you know, discussing the renovation, of course.”
The deliberate emphasis and pointed look that accompanied the statement made her implication unmistakable. Isabella maintained her composure, aware that conversations around her had quieted as the women strained to hear her response.
“Well, Thomas is the restoration contractor for the project. Naturally, we do spend a lot of time discussing the work. We want to make sure everything goes well.”
“Of course,” Vivian nodded, her smile never reaching her eyes.
"Although I understand these professional discussions have become quite.
.. personal. Dinner at his cottage with his daughter present—how lovely.
One does hope the renovation's timeline isn't being compromised by. .. other considerations."
The direct reference to her private evening with Thomas and Emma confirmed Isabella’s suspicion that this encounter was staged to create discomfort and public speculation about her and Thomas.
Before she could even think of a response that wouldn’t feed the attempt at gossip-mongering, Maggie thankfully intervened.
“Vivian, darling, how’s your nephew’s contracting business these days?
” she said with a deceptive sweetness. “Is he still struggling to secure projects on the island? Maybe if he developed an expertise in historical restoration, instead of focusing on those dreadful modern monstrosities, he might be a little more successful. Not everyone can match Thomas’s skill, of course, but surely he could improve if he had proper training. ”
The strategic counter-strike, reminding everybody that Vivian’s nepotistic attempt to secure the Beaumont restoration for her unqualified nephew, hit its mark perfectly. A faint flush appeared on Vivian’s cheeks, and several of the women at nearby tables looked at each other with knowing glances.
“Actually, my nephew is doing quite well with projects on the mainland, thank you,” Vivian replied stiffly. “Not everybody appreciates the constraints of historical preservation. Some clients prefer contemporary design.”
“How fortunate the mainland offers such opportunities for someone like your nephew,” Maggie said, smiling.
“Oh, if you’ll excuse us, Isabella and I were just talking about the holiday decoration plans for the inn’s opening.
We’d love your input at the committee meeting next week, if you’re available, of course. ”
Effectively dismissed, Vivian had little choice but to retreat with as much of her dignity intact as she could when she departed. Conversations around the room gradually resumed their normal volume and flow.
“Thank you,” Isabella said quietly to Maggie. “That was a master class.”
“Well, island politics is a contact sport,” she replied with a shrug.
“Vivian forgets I’ve been playing it much longer than she has.
” She patted Isabella’s hand. “Don’t let her bother you.
Her influence here isn’t what it used to be, especially since the review board approved your plans despite her relentless objections. ”
Isabella nodded, but she couldn’t completely dismiss the discomfort of having her personal life become fodder for island gossip.
She knew there was going to be some curiosity about her past connection to Thomas, but she didn’t enjoy the public scrutiny of their current relationship, whatever it might be. It felt invasively personal.
The luncheon concluded shortly after, with Isabella saying goodbye to several women who had become friendly over the past months. As she got ready to leave, Charlotte Stewart approached her privately.