Isabel
"Yes, I know his record. But now that I know he’s actively pursuing Hearts Hotel, I wouldn't put anything past him.
The momentum of the firm is a powerful thing.
" She paused, her mind drifting back over the corporate filings she had glanced at before they left home.
"What exactly did he tell you about this project before we packed our bags? "
"He told me it was your parents' dream," Penny said softly, her gaze turning sympathetic. "He said Harold and Eleanor wanted to build a resort here so families from all walks of life could come to Sweet Blossom Bay and experience the kind of coastal holiday that’s usually reserved exclusively for the wealthy. He told me that during the last year of their lives, when you all visited the town together, the tourist trade had dropped significantly. He remembered how your mother was devastated by it. The stores along the marina were boarding up, people were packing up to move to the larger mainland cities, and the town was dying. This island was your mother’s sanctuary.
The one place where business, school, and social obligations couldn't touch the family. "
"Yes. That part is true. Summer was our favorite time of the year.
For two years, my parents spent every evening at the dining table planning that project.
They wanted to build a resort that stretched from the beach house we have now, all the way down the ridge line toward the Hearts Hotel parcel.
They wanted a tasteful, small-scale commercial center in the town square.
Something that wouldn't swamp the local character but would draw people back from the highway. "
“That sounds similar to what Darius is trying to do here,” Penny confirmed, tapping her glass with a manicured finger.
Isabel closed her eyes, the vivid image of her mother walking along the wooden pier flashing behind her eyelids.
"I was ecstatic. I remember telling her that I wanted us to move here permanently. I even started sketching interior designs for the guest cottages. That last summer we were here, my mother and I walked through the town square on a Tuesday afternoon.” Her eyes took on a distant stare, and a soft smile curved her lips at the memory of it.
“Even though we were summer residents, every single shopkeeper came out to greet us.
They remembered our names, they asked about my father and Darius.
They treated us more like neighbors than summer vacationers. "
“It’s still like that,” Penny pointed out with a soft light in her eyes. “I already know the woman who owns the flower shop, the grocer, and we even know the hardware store owner.”
Isabel opened her eyes, her expression hardening as she looked back toward Darius's booth. “Exactly. This town has such comforting warmth and a sense of community about it.”
“I know, that’s why I’ve been looking at property for sale here,” Penny admitted. “I’m thinking this is where I’d like to retire.”
“That’s exactly what my mother said after that day,” Isabel told her. "When we came home from that walk, my mother went straight into my father's study. She told him that building a massive, corporate resort inside the town borders wasn't the right way to save it.”
“Your mother had a change of heart,” Penny stated, her voice dropping. “Like I did the moment I arrived here.”
“Yes.” Isabel nodded. “My mother had completely changed her mind. She realized that creating a massive corporate development would destroy the very community spirit she loved. She wanted to try to build the resort further up the coastline, outside the town limits, to bring in the jobs and the tax revenue.” She took a sip of her ice-tea without really tasting it.
“But, she wanted to leave the town and the coast line here exactly as it was.” Her eyes met Penny’s.
“They started looking for new sites around Sweet Blossom Bay or close enough to get people into the town.” She leaned back in the seat cupping the glass with both hands, staring into the liquid.
“My mother wanted to establish a private capital slush fund to subsidize the local businesses when the winter tourist trade dipped. "
"Oh. Did she really?” Penny’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“Yes,” Isabel replied. “And they did start one. I think they even found an alternative site for the resort and the mall they wanted to build around this area.”
“Oh!” Penny said again. “Do you know where?”
Isabel sighed and shook her head. “Sadly, no. They died before I could find out.”
“Do you have the actual details of that plan?” Penny persisted, her eyes lighting with interest. “Maybe we could start it up together.” Her brows furrowed. “Or were you too young to remember it?”
"I wasn't that young. I was a teenager, and I was paying attention," Isabel said, a proud, protective ring entering her voice.
"I told my mother that I wanted to help her manage it.
Before the accident, we worked with our family's private attorneys in Miami to quietly establish the Maritime Heritage Trust. It’s a blind endowment fund designed to distribute micro-loans and infrastructure grants to historic coastal communities. "
"You did what? You run a trust?” Penny gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
"I am the sole managing trustee," Isabel explained, her voice steady and clinical. "We’ve been keeping the island afloat since then, Penny. Whenever the historical society needed a roof repair or the local marina needed to dredge the channel after a storm, the trust stepped in with anonymous grants.” She watched the surprise in Penny’s eyes.
“We structured it through a secondary banking firm in Miami so the Wayne Group would never see our name on the ledger.
My parents wanted to protect this town's independence, not own it. "
Before Penny could process the revelation, Darius stood up from his booth in a single, fluid motion.
Isabel stiffened, watching through the reflection as her brother dropped several bills onto the laminate table, delivered a brief, icy directive to Baxter, and turned toward the exit.
He didn't look back. He gave Pete a short, respectful nod as he pushed through the glass front doors and stepped out into the blinding afternoon sun.
"That was fast. Darius didn't even touch his coffee." Penny peeked around the high edge of their vinyl seat, her eyes narrowing.
"He looked furious," Isabel noted, her brow furrowing as she watched her cousin Baxter slide back into the booth, his expression tight with resentment. "I don't think Darius liked whatever Baxter and his academic friend had to offer."
"We have to wait until they leave," Penny whispered, leaning back as the young waitress who had been serving the front section walked over to the corner booth. "I want to hear exactly what’s on that recording device before we make our move."
The waitress stood at the edge of Baxter’s table, her shoulders straight, her notepad tucked under her arm.
"Are you still wanting something to eat? Or can I clear these mugs for you?" The server asked politely.
"No, thank you, we won’t be eating," Baxter said, his voice clipped and irritated as he reached for the bills Darius had left behind. He slid them across the table toward her. "We'll just finish our coffees. Keep the change."
"Thank you, sir," the server said, her tone professional but cool.
"Excuse me," Dr. Wineberg interrupted, her aristocratic drawl cutting through the clatter of the diner.
She looked up at the server, her manicured fingers tapping the edge of her saucer.
"There was a man in here just as we arrived.
A tall gentleman with glasses. I believe his name is Owen Reed. Do you happen to know him?"
In the back booth, Isabel and Penny both strained forward, their ears pricked to catch every word.
"She seems remarkably interested in Owen," Penny whispered, her eyes wide. "So there really was something behind that icy exchange when they crossed paths in the doorway."
"Does he live here on Sanibel permanently?" Dr. Wineberg continued, her tone deceptively casual. "I’d like to consult with him on a matter of local historical preservation."
The waitress’s shoulders tensed slightly, a subtle shift in body language that didn't go amiss with Isabel, who had spent years evaluating staff performance for the Wayne Group's boutique properties.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the waitress said, her tone turning decidedly frosty. "I don't pry into our customers' private lives. Dr. Reed is a regular, and we respect our locals' privacy here."
A dead, heavy silence settled over the corner booth for a few seconds. Isabel wished she could see Dr. Wineberg’s face clearly; the composed, elegant consultant was clearly taken aback that a small-town server would speak to her with such blunt indifference.
"I... see," Dr. Wineberg stammered, her voice tightening as she recovered her poise. "Thank you."
"If that's all," the waitress said, already turning on her heel.
"That's all," Baxter muttered, sliding out of the booth and standing up. He offered a hand to Dr. Wineberg, helping her step out into the aisle. "Don't worry about it, Debbi. We have other, more official channels for locating the man’s current address."
"The man?" Isabel whispered as the pair walked toward the front door. "They mean Owen."
"Yeah," Penny nodded, her frown deepening as she watched them leave. "Linda did mention that Owen ran the Sweet Blossom Bay Historical Society the day we met her at the heritage festival."
"I know," Isabel said, her eyes tracking Baxter’s rigid posture as he pushed open the front door. "Look at his shoulders. He’s absolutely miserable about the outcome of that meeting. Darius must have completely shut him down."