Owen
"Come in," Linda called from inside.
“Oh?” Linda’s brows rose.
"Of course,” Linda said right away. “But I can’t have you conducting an interview in the dining room.”
“Oh no,” Linda said. “That’s not what I mean.” She smiled. “An interview needs privacy.” She glanced around her office and the clock on the wall above the door. “I have to get back to Heart House anyway. Why don't you just use this office?"
"I don't want to put you out," Owen countered, holding the resume against his chest.
"Nonsense," Linda told him, tilting her head curiously. "May I ask who the candidate is? Do I know them?”
“Yes, I believe you do,” Owen answered. “It’s Isabel Graham.”
Linda’s brows shot up in surprise.
"Isabel?” Linda breathed. “Oh.” She tilted her head slightly. “Interviewing her at the hotel might be more convenient for her as well.” She started to gather the papers on the desk. “She just checked into one of our suites a little while ago.”
“I thought she’d been in Sweet Blossom Bay for a while,” Owen said, frowning.
“They have,” Linda confirmed. “They have been staying at the beach house up the road. But, apparently, her brother started some renovations on the house, so they needed a place to stay for a while."
Owen's brow knitted more tightly, his underlying suspicion flaring right back to the surface. That sounded a little too convenient.
"What exactly do you know about Isabel Graham’s background?" Owen asked, keeping his suspicion from his voice and features..
"Isabel’s a widow," Linda explained, her expression softening into a sympathetic look.
"She went through a terrible tragedy a few years back. She lost her son and her daughter-in-law in an accident, and then her husband passed away shortly after. She's raising her granddaughter, Emma, on her own now. She, her granddaughter, her brother, and their friend are here in Sweet Blossom Bay for the summer.” She closed her laptop. “Oh, and Emma, her granddaughter, has become best friends with Sophia and Lily.” Her smile broadened. “Don’t worry, Owen, Isabel is a wonderful person.” She frowned thoughtfully.
“I actually introduced you to her and Penny at the summer festival.”
“Yes, I remember.” Owen shifted his weight, his eyes dropping to the folder. "What do you know about her professional history? Her work history?"
Linda frowned, shaking her head slowly.
"Now, come to think of it, I never actually asked her about work.” She bit the side of her mouth. “The topic never came up. Do you need me to ask her about it?"
"No need," Owen said quickly, waving a hand to dismiss the suggestion. "I have her full resume right here. I was just wondering if you knew anything about her background, that's all."
"So Isabel wants a summer job?" Linda said with a bright smile returning to her face. “She does seem like the type that doesn’t like being idle for too long”
"Actually, in her cover email, Isabel indicated that she's looking to move to Sweet Blossom Bay permanently," Owen told her.
Linda's eyes widened with genuine delight. "That would be absolutely wonderful!” She looked at Owen. “Michael and I just decided to move back home for good, too. It's going to be so great for Emma to be here as well."
"This town is the best place for kids to grow up," Owen stated.
A sudden, soft pang of old regret tightened in his chest. It was a quiet reminder of the family he had never managed to build for himself.
He shook the feeling off and glanced at his wristwatch.
"Is that the time? Isabel should be arriving soon. "
A strange feeling of excitement spread through his system, but he ignored it, putting it down to relief that he may have found some help with the cafe.
"Let me clear out and give you some space," Linda told him, stacking the last of her papers into a neat pile.
"No, really, Linda, I can easily use the dining room," Owen insisted.
"Nonsense," Linda said, already moving around the desk and heading for the door. "I'll go find Rosa so she can get you refreshments."
Owen knew it was pointless to argue with her once her mind was set. He took the chair Linda had just vacated, spreading out the resume pages and reviewing his interview points. He had just started going through his interview questions when there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," Owen called out.
Linda popped her head around the frame, smiling warmly. "Isabel is here."
"Thank you, Linda," Owen said, standing up, the excitement he’d been trying to squash growing.
Isabel stepped into the office, and Owen felt his chest tighten. She was even more beautiful than he remembered from the festival, her dark eyes bright and her linen trousers perfectly styled. When she offered him a warm smile, his stomach knotted with a sudden wave of nerves.
"Hello, Dr. Reed," Isabel greeted him, stepping into the center of the room. "It's good to see you again."
"Please, call me Owen," Owen told her, stepping around the desk to extend his hand.
The moment their fingers brushed, a sharp, sudden spark zapped up his arm, the unexpected contact making his pulse quicken. He didn't pull away awkwardly. He prided himself on how he managed to gracefully release her small hand instead of ripping it away as if he’d been burned.
"Can I get either of you anything to drink?" Linda asked, still hovering in the doorway.
"Just some water for me, thank you," Isabel answered.
"I'll have a water too, thank you, Linda," Owen added.
"I'll send Rosa with it," Linda told them, closing the door quietly behind her as she left.
Owen sat back down, forcing his professional focus to take over while Isabel took the seat in front of him, and the interview began.
They relaxed into each other's company surprisingly fast, the initial tension melting away as they started to talk.
He looked down at the first page of her file, his eyes tracking her academic credentials.
"I see from your resume that you're an architect specializing in historical buildings," Owen observed, leaning forward.
Isabel nodded, her expression lighting up as she began to talk about her past projects.
Owen found his underlying suspicion fading with every sentence.
His own lifelong love of history extended deeply into grand architecture, and they spent the next fifteen minutes completely lost in a discussion about ancient structural preservation.
He found himself increasingly intrigued by her intelligence and her easy, conversational rhythm.
But he knew he still had to ask the hard questions.
The room went quiet for a moment as Owen shifted the folders.
"Isabel, why exactly are you stepping away from your obviously high position at the Wayne Group to become a café manager?" Owen asked, watching her face closely.
Isabel didn't hesitate for a single second.
"I've spent years navigating that corporate world," Isabel explained, her voice steady and sincere.
"But I've always wanted to have a small coffee shop attached to a bookstore.
I love reading, and I love the atmosphere inside a cozy coffee shop.
It's the kind of place where you truly come to know your regular customers and get to wonder about the new ones just passing through. I want that simple life."
Owen sat entirely mesmerized by the soft light in her eyes as she spoke.
He had to mentally shake himself to stay grounded.
He remembered the explicit warnings Anna had delivered at the café earlier about the competitive corporate threats.
This entire arrangement felt entirely too coincidental to be an accident, and a part of him wondered if Isabel's sudden application for the manager position on the same day she was moving into the hotel was some sort of trap.
Still, he recalled the old rule about keeping your friends close and enemies closer.
Owen needed to see exactly where this was going, or if Isabel genuinely just wanted to manage his café because of what they'd just discussed.
He would give her the benefit of the doubt, but he would maintain a very close watch on her daily operations.
A strange, heavy feeling of déjà vu pressed against his chest. It was the exact same cautious logic he had used with Gillian before everything fell apart.
A sharp pang squeezed his heart at the memory, but he forced the old trauma down, focusing only on the present.
The interview was wrapping up, and Owen realized he was reluctant to end the conversation.
"Well, I'm satisfied," Owen told her, closing the folder with a definitive nod. "As long as you're sure you want to do this and won't up and leave me in the middle of the season." He stood up, holding his hand out across the mahogany surface. "I'm happy to have you as my café manager."
Isabel’s eyes widened in absolute shock, and the dazzling smile that lifted her lips nearly made his heart stop completely.
Somewhere at the back of his mind, a quiet warning bell began to ring, alerting him that he was heading straight into an emotional territory he had long ago decided never to step into again.
Isabel
Isabel felt her eyes widen as Owen’s words registered in her mind. Her heart pounded against her ribs with a sudden surge of excitement. He had actually given her the job.
"Thank you, Dr. Reed," Isabel breathed, reaching out to take his hand.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, remembering their earlier handshake when a distinct jolt of lightning had zapped up her arm, something she had only felt once before in her life and really didn't want to examine right now.
The moment their warm hands touched, the exact same spark happened again, running straight to her heart.
It took every single ounce of her self-control not to pull her hand back as if she had been burned.
"Please, call me Owen," Owen told her, a soft light settling into his eyes. "When is it convenient for you to start? I will make sure I'm available to take you through everything and show you the layout."
"As soon as you want me to," Isabel told him, her excitement growing.
"How about tomorrow afternoon?" Owen suggested, stepping toward the door.
"Sure, what time?" Isabel asked, wondering briefly if she sounded too eager.
"Two?" Owen asked.
"Perfect," Isabel said, reaching for the doorknob as he walked her to the threshold. "Until tomorrow then."
"Yes, I'll see you tomorrow," Owen confirmed, offering a final, polite nod.
Isabel left the private office, barely able to contain the pure glee bubbling in her chest.
"I got the job," she whispered quietly to herself as she headed for the elevator, eager to find Penny in the suite and tell her everything.
Before she could reach the call button, the heavy glass doors leading from the hotel grounds swung open, and Emma rushed into the foyer.
"Gran!" Emma cried, her face flushed from running and her eyes shining with excited joy. "Penny tells me that we've moved to the hotel? Is it true?"
"Yes, sweetheart," Isabel told her, wrapping her arm around her granddaughter's shoulders. "It's true. Want to come up to see the suite?"
"Yes," Emma stated as they climbed into the elevator together. She paused, looking up with a slight frown. "Is Uncle Darius here too? Aunt Penny said he's starting renovations on the beach house."
"No, sweetheart," Isabel answered, hating to lie to her but knowing it was far better for her to stay a kid and simply enjoy her summer vacation than get tangled in adult drama. "It's just you, me, and Penny."
"That's fine," Emma said, leaning against the handrail as the lift began to rise. "As long as Uncle Darius comes to visit and doesn't get too tied up with working on those renovations."
"I'm sure he'll stop by regularly," Isabel assured her, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Oh, and honey," she added with a warm smile. "What would you think about us maybe moving here to Sweet Blossom Bay?"
Emma's eyes widened to their absolute limits, hope shining brightly in her face. "You mean live here? Like for good?" She gave Isabel a sideways look as if assessing if this was a joke. “Like every day, and Sweet Blossom Bay would be our home?”
"Yes," Isabel nodded. "We'd have to move your school records, of course—"
"Yes, oh, please, gran, yes!" Emma exclaimed, clapping her hands together and practically bouncing against the elevator wall. "There is a rumor that Sophia and Lily might be moving here too."
Isabel raised an eyebrow, an amused look touching her face. "Oh? A rumor? And where did you hear that?"
"Well..." Emma looked down at her sneakers, her cheeks heating with a bright flush. "We kinda overheard... We accidentally heard Michael and Maggie talking about it."
Isabel's brow rose in amusement. "Accidentally, huh?"
"Yeah," Emma admitted, flashing a cheeky grin.
"Well, then," Isabel stated, choosing not to press the eavesdropping issue since she was in far too good a mood to scold her. "It's settled. We'll have to start looking for a house."
"What about the beach house?" Emma asked. "Won't Uncle Darius let us live there?"
"I don't know what he plans to do with it, sweetheart," Isabel admitted, keeping her tone casual. "But we'll see. There is still plenty of time."
The elevator let out a soft electronic ding, the door sliding open to reveal the second-floor hall. Emma threw her arms around Isabel’s waist in a sudden, tight hug before they stepped out onto the carpet.
"Oh, and guess what?" Isabel said, looking down at her granddaughter as they walked arm in arm toward their suite.
"What?" Emma asked, looking up wide-eyed.
"I have a job managing the Bay Café as of tomorrow afternoon," Isabel told her.
"No way!" Emma breathed, her voice dropping into an awed whisper. "Gran, that's awesome. You always wanted a coffee shop."
Isabel leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against her granddaughter's head, delighted that the young girl had remembered her old dream so clearly.
"Well, this is just managing one," Isabel told her.
"Still, it's what you've dreamed of," Emma told her, reaching out to push the suite door open. "Just you won't own it. You'll run it."
Isabel looked at her granddaughter for a few seconds, pursing her lips and nodding.
Yes, she liked the sound of that. Her heart skipped a few beats, and excitement churned in her stomach as she felt they were walking through a new door into a brighter chapter of their lives.
For the first time in many years, the dark, gloomy clouds of despair that had hung over her head were parting to let in the sun to warm their future.