Chapter 4 #2
Emma shook her hand, her expression politely neutral. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Montgomery. The inn is a big project to take on.”
“Please, call me Isabella. And yes, it is. That’s what makes it so exciting.” She looked between Thomas and Emma. “I’m going to leave you two to catch up, but Thomas, if you need me, I’ll be reviewing the upstairs floor plans.”
As Isabella disappeared back into the house, Emma turned to her father with a raised eyebrow. “So that’s the new owner you’ve been so vague about when we talk.”
Thomas sighed. “Let’s take a walk around the grounds. I need to check the exterior drainage anyway.”
As they circled the property, Thomas explained all the technical aspects of the renovation and pointed out architectural features. Emma listened, but he could sense her waiting for the information he was avoiding.
“Dad,” she finally said, stopping beneath one of the old oaks. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something important about this Isabella that you’re not telling me?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Isabella and I… well, we knew each other a long time ago, before I met your mother.”
“Knew each other,” she repeated.
“As in we were in college together,” he admitted. “It was serious.”
“How serious?”
“Very.” He looked away, focusing on the marsh in the distance. “She was the first person I ever loved.”
Emma was silent for a moment. “And now she’s back, hiring you for a major project? That’s quite a coincidence.”
“No, it wasn’t planned, at least not on my part. And she had no idea I was still on the island when she bought the inn.” He turned back to his daughter. “Look, it’s strictly professional between us now. It’s been thirty years, Emma. We’re different people.”
“Well, maybe so,” she said, “but I’ve never heard you mention her before. Not even once in all these years.”
“Well, some chapters of life are better left closed.”
“And yet here she is, reopening that chapter, whether you wanted it or not.” She had a protective worry on her face. “What happened between you two? Why did it end?”
He hesitated. He’d never discussed the circumstances of his breakup with Isabella, not even with Sarah during their marriage. It was a private pain, a choice he made that changed the course of his life.
“It’s complicated, Emma. I made a difficult decision that hurt her deeply.” He met his daughter’s eyes. “But she’s my client now, and I’m going to give this project my best work, regardless of our history.”
She studied his face, clearly sensing there was something more to the story, but she knew him well enough to recognize he wouldn’t be pushed further.
“Just be careful, Dad,” she said. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
He smiled slightly. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line? I’m the parent here.”
“And I’m the only one of us who inherited Mom’s common sense,” she said. “Speaking of which, I should probably meet this Isabella properly, since you’re going to be working with her for months.”
Before he could object, she started striding back toward the inn. He hurried to catch up, wondering how this unexpected collision of past and present would unfold.
They found Isabella in the main parlor, discussing molding restoration with Eliza. She looked up, her professional smile firmly in place.
“Emma wanted a proper tour,” Thomas explained. “She has a great eye for design and might have some insights to offer.”
“I’d be glad to show you around,” Isabella said. “Though I should warn you, it’s very much a work in progress.”
As Isabella guided them through the first floor and explained her vision for each space, Thomas watched the interactions between the two women with a mix of fascination and anxiety.
Emma was politely reserved but asked intelligent questions while studying Isabella.
For her part, Isabella simply maintained her usual warm professionalism, neither too familiar nor too defensive.
When they finally reached the dining room, Isabella outlined her plans for restoring it to its original grandeur.
“The proportions of this room are remarkable,” she said, gesturing toward the high ceilings with their ornate plaster medallions. “We’re going to finish these original floors and restore the wainscoting. I hope to find a period-appropriate light fixture to replace this current lighting.”
“What about the wall?” Emma asked, pointing to a section that separated the dining room from a smaller sitting area. “It kind of interrupts the flow.”
“That’s actually not original to the building,” Thomas said. “It was added during the 1940s restoration, probably to create a private dining space for the owner.”
Isabella nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been debating whether to remove it. On one hand, it would restore the original layout and bring more light to this section, but on the other hand, two distinct spaces offer more flexibility when we’re hosting events.”
“What does the historical record show?” Emma asked.
“I actually found an old photograph from 1910 that shows the original layout,” Isabella replied. She reached for a folder on a nearby table and pulled out the sepia-toned image that depicted the dining room in its early setup.
“That’s beautiful,” Emma said, studying the photograph. “More elegant than this current arrangement, though I understand there are some practical considerations.”
“Exactly my dilemma,” Isabella said, sighing. “Your father’s structural assessment will help determine if the wall is load-bearing, and that might just settle the question.”
“It’s not,” Thomas said. “Purely decorative. You could take it off without compromising the building’s integrity.”
Isabella looked happy. “Well, that’s helpful to know. I’m leaning toward restoring the original open concept, then using furniture arrangement to create the distinct areas when needed.”
“That’s a good compromise,” Emma said.
The tour continued to the kitchen, where they found Luella making notes about storage requirements. The older woman greeted Emma, having known her since childhood.
“Well, look at you, all grown up and proper,” Luella said. “Your mama would be proud.”
“Thanks, Miss Luella. Hey, are you still making the best peach cobbler on the Eastern Seaboard?”
“You know it, although this kitchen needs a complete overhaul before I can do my best work.” Luella turned to Isabella.
"Now, I've made you a proper list of what this kitchen needs to pass health department inspection.
Lord knows they're pickier than a preacher at a potluck dinner, but we'll get it right. "
“I appreciate that,” Isabella said. “Your expertise here will be invaluable for designing a functional space.”
As they continued through the inn, Thomas became more and more aware of the surprising development that Emma was warming up to Isabella.
His daughter had a well-honed ability to assess character, a skill that had served her well in her marketing career, but she was genuinely engaging with Isabella, more than just being polite.
Their tour ended in the garden, where Luella had begun clearing decades of overgrowth from what had once been a formal herb and flower garden.
As they walked through the overgrown pathways, Thomas found himself hyperaware of Isabella's presence beside him - the way she paused to examine particular plants, the graceful way she moved through the tangled garden, how the dappled sunlight played across her features.
“The landscaping will be in phase two,” Isabella said. “After all the structural work is complete. But these gardens were once the highlight of the property. I’d love to restore them, maybe even with an emphasis on native plants.”
“You know, there’s a landscape architect in Charleston who specializes in restoring historic gardens,” Emma said. “Jessica Oakes. I know, pun intended, I guess. She did the Middleton Place refurbishment. I can introduce you if you’d like.”
Thomas tried to hide the surprise at his daughter’s offer of assistance.
“Oh, that would be wonderful, thank you.”
As they said their goodbyes, Emma’s demeanor toward Isabella was noticeably warmer.
“It was great meeting you, Isabella. Your vision for the inn is awe-inspiring, and I can’t wait to see how it progresses. You’re in good hands with my dad.”
“The pleasure was mine,” Isabella said, “and you’ve offered some wonderful insight today. Feel free to visit anytime you’re here on the island.”
After Emma left, promising to meet Thomas for dinner later, there was an awkward silence between him and Isabella.
“Your daughter is wonderful,” Isabella finally said. “She certainly has your eye for structural integrity, but also has a distinct perspective all her own.”
“Thanks,” Thomas replied, feeling a swell of pride. “She surprises me every day.”
Isabella nodded. “She’s protective of you. That’s nice to see.”
Before Thomas could respond, Wade Collins approached with an urgent question about the electrical assessment, and the moment passed. Isabella excused herself to review the notes, leaving Thomas to address the technical issue.
The rest of the day passed with lots of productivity.
Thomas and his team completed their preliminary assessment of the inn’s structural systems. By late afternoon, he had a comprehensive overview of the building’s condition.
It was better than he feared in some areas and worse in others, but overall, a great restoration project.
As the crew packed up for the day, he found Isabella on the front porch looking at their findings.
“We’ll have a detailed proposal to you within a week,” he said. “My structural engineer will verify everything tomorrow, but I’m pretty confident in our overall assessment.”
“That’s excellent news,” she said. “I appreciate how thorough you and your team have been.”
A warm breeze stirred the Spanish moss hanging from nearby oaks, carrying the sweet scent of jasmine from the overgrown garden.
For a moment, the years between them seemed to compress.
It brought Thomas back to similar evenings where they spent their time discussing design concepts on university benches, their heads bent together over sketches, the world full of possibilities.
“Isabella,” he began, uncertain of exactly what he wanted to say, but feeling the need to acknowledge it. “About Emma.”
“She’s lovely,” Isabella interrupted. “You’ve done a great job raising her, and you should be proud.”
“Well, I am,” he said. “Thanks for being so gracious with her. She can be a little overprotective of me.”
“As she should be.” Isabella’s expression was completely unreadable. “Family looks out for each other, and that’s how it should be.”
Something in her tone, a slight wistfulness perhaps, reminded him that she’d never had any children of her own. According to discreet inquiries around the island, she'd been married to another hotel executive, but that relationship had ended in divorce two years ago.
“Will you be at the architectural review board meeting next week?” he asked.
“Yes, although Vivian has warned me not to expect immediate approval. Apparently, the board prefers to ‘thoroughly consider’ all proposals, especially from newcomers like me.”
He smiled. “That’s Vivian-speak for ‘we’re going to make you jump through hoops because you’re not a third-generation islander.’ However, don’t worry; your plans are very solid, and the historical accuracy will likely satisfy the board’s concerns. Well, most of them.”
“Most?”
“Grayson Williams sits on the board. He has his own ideas about the island’s future development, and they do not align with historical preservation.”
“Yes, I met him yesterday. He made a generous offer to buy the inn from me.”
Thomas felt a surprising surge of alarm. “Wait, he did? What did you tell him?”
“I told him I didn’t buy the inn to flip it. I came here to create something meaningful, not make a quick profit.”
Relief washed over Thomas. The idea of the inn falling into Grayson’s hands and being demolished for one of his modern resort complexes was deeply unsettling.
“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Thomas said. “Grayson has been trying to get his hands on this property for years. He sees the historic district as prime real estate for development rather than preservation.”
“So I gathered,” Isabella said, “and he wasn’t exactly subtle about his intentions.”
The last of Thomas’s crew waved goodbye and then left, leaving Thomas and Isabella alone on the porch. The late afternoon light filtered through the oak trees, casting dappled shadows across the weathered floorboards.
“I’d better go,” Thomas said, knowing he needed to meet Emma for dinner.
“We’ve made good progress today,” Isabella nodded. “Thanks, and please thank your crew as well. They’re remarkably knowledgeable and have been so respectful of the property.”
Her professional mask was firmly back in place.
“They understand what this place means to the island. Most of them have personal connections to the inn when it was operational.”
A comfortable silence settled between them, filled with the evening chorus of birds settling in for the night and the distant whisper of waves hitting the shore.
The air between them felt charged with unspoken memories and careful boundaries.
Thomas found himself wanting to say something more, to bridge the careful distance they kept, but the weight of thirty years and too many regrets kept him silent.
“Good night, Isabella,” he said, descending the porch steps.
“Good night, Thomas,” she replied softly.
As he drove away, Thomas glanced in his rearview mirror to see Isabella still standing on the porch, her figure silhouetted against the white clapboard of the inn.
She looked both perfectly at home there and impossibly distant, like a dream he'd once thought he could hold onto, now just close enough to remember what he'd lost, but too far away to ever reclaim.