17. Isabel
ISABEL
Noticing that Linda and Owen weren't in the conference room where the college students were finishing up the snack tables, Isabel turned back toward the main corridor to go find them.
She stepped out onto the polished tile floor of the lobby and stopped short when she saw Owen pull Linda into a secluded corner near the heavy front doors.
Her heart did a strange, sudden thump against her ribs, a wave of heat spreading through her chest that she couldn't quite understand. She stood frozen for a split second, her breath catching in her throat as she watched the tight, urgent way Owen held Linda’s sleeve.
Then her practical logic returned, pushing the confusing emotion aside.
She reminded herself of how close they were.
They were old colleagues and best friends who had worked together in the field for years.
It made perfect sense that Owen would want to speak to Linda privately about the latest developments with the pool excavation before the rest of the volunteer crew assembled.
They were both dedicated archaeologists, after all, dealing with a great historic discovery on the property.
She was about to turn around and leave them to their private conversation when she noticed Owen's entire posture completely freeze. His jaw set into a rigid line as his eyes locked onto something beyond the open front door.
Isabel followed his gaze and felt her stomach drop. Walking across the parking lot toward the hotel entrance was the sharp, clinical woman she recognized from the diner, and right behind her, carrying a leather briefcase, was Baxter.
"What the heck!" Isabel hissed under her breath.
Her fingers fumbled frantically inside her pocket as a rush of adrenaline made her palms turn slick. With shaking hands, she pulled out her phone and scrambled to hit her brother's number.
Darius answered on the second ring, his tone sharp. "Isabel? Is everything okay?"
"I'm not sure," Isabel said softly into the receiver, stepping back behind a large indoor palm planter to stay out of sight. She watched in absolute horror as the two figures reached the shaded porch. “Hold on.”
Before she could explain any further, the two people step inside the cool foyer.
A thick wave of heavy perfume cut through the cool air conditioning of the lobby.
Owen still had Linda cornered near the window, his eyes blazing with a rigid anger as he stared down the pair who had just invaded the foyer.
The woman stopped in the center of the rug, her hands flying to her chest as her eyes misted over instantly.
"Owen, darling," she gushed, her voice carrying an intense, dramatic pitch that echoed off the high ceiling.
"You're actually here." She breathed out the words like a tragic actress staging a grand reveal.
Isabel pressed the phone tighter to her ear, watching from behind the green fronds as she silently criticized the sheer theatricality of the performance, though she quickly admonished herself for being uncharacteristically catty.
"What are you doing here?" Owen asked. His voice was deathly cold, his posture straight as stone. His tone was flat, utterly devoid of any normal human warmth, but his eyes blazed and looked like two chips of sharp glass.
"I've been looking for you for so long," the woman purred, her bottom lip beginning to quiver in a practiced routine as her eyes grew mistier by the second, looking as though she was about to burst into tears right there on the tile.
Isabel had to stop herself from rolling her eyes and scoffing aloud.
Judging by the tight, disgusted line of Linda’s jaw, she was just as disgusted and sickened by the newcomer’s feigned dramatic shock.
If anything, Isabel was willing to bet her corporate salary that this woman knew exactly where Owen was located before she ever set foot on the island.
As she watched the woman step closer to him, a sharp emotion sliced straight through Isabel’s stomach, a dark wave of heat that felt a lot like jealousy.
The realization stunned her, making her chest tighten.
Jealousy? No, that can't be right, she told herself, her fingers gripping her phone tighter. She was a widow who had spent years guarding her heart against any kind of romantic clutter. She had no business feeling possessive over a quiet archaeologist she had only known for a few weeks.
She was yanked from her internal dialogue when Owen spoke again, his voice cutting through the silent foyer like a knife.
"I asked you a question," Owen repeated, his tone completely unyielding. "What are you doing here?"
"Can't you even manage to give me a proper hello after all this time?" the woman whined, her voice quivering perfectly along with her lower lip.
It took every single ounce of Isabel’s self-control not to step out from behind the planter and clap her hands together, shouting bravo at the performance. If Penny were standing beside her she would’ve done it.
Isabel shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Stop it, Isabel, she told herself silently. What on earth has gotten into you? You are not this kind of person.
"Isabel?" Darius's voice rattled loudly through the phone receiver against her ear, his tone rising in panic. She had almost forgotten she was still holding him on an active line. "Speak to me. What is going on in that lobby?"
"Give me a minute," Isabel whispered quietly into the phone, only half paying attention to her confused brother on the other end of the line as the drama in front of her escalated.
"Just cut the act," Owen seethed, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at the woman with bare, disgusted contempt. "You know your theatrics never worked on me, and they certainly aren't going to work on me today."
"Owen!" the woman gasped, clutching her chest as she let out a sharp, offended breath. "Is that any way to speak to your wife whom you haven't seen in ten years?"
Isabel let out a small, horrified gasp of her own at the revelation, her hand flying to her mouth as the room seemed to tilt.
"Issy!" Darius called out again through the phone speaker, his voice demanding an answer, but she couldn't manage a single word. Her eyes remained completely glued to the cold scene playing out twenty feet away.
"Ex-husband," Owen corrected her, his voice dropping into a glacial register that made the hairs on Isabel's arms stand up. "And again, I'm going to ask what you are doing here?"
Baxter stepped forward into the light, a smooth, professional smile spreading across his face as he looked at Owen.
"We didn't get a proper chance to introduce ourselves over at the diner the other afternoon, but I'm Baxter Johnson.
I work for …" He was clearly trying to diffuse the issues between Dr. Wineberg and Owen.
"No, no, no," Isabel breathed under her breath, her heart starting to plummet straight toward the floorboards as she watched Linda look at Baxter with icy disdain, associating him with Dr. Wineberg.
"I'm here for two reasons," Dr. Wineberg stated, reaching into her leather bag and cutting Baxter off before he could say another word.
"The first being that while I've searched for your address over the last decade, I've been carrying a certified copy of our original South Carolina divorce files with me.
There are several vital amendments that you neglected to sign before you left Charleston. "
"Excuse me?" Owen stood completely frozen, his face turning the color of chalk. "What did you just say?"
"Our divorce was never finalized," the woman purred, pouting her lips as she clutched the papers against her blazer. "A technical error at the state records clerk's office means the decree was never officially registered. We are still legally married."
Isabel froze behind the planter, her blood turning to pure ice as her heart did a slow, painful descent to the floor. The words echoed through her mind like a physical blow. They are still married.
"Isabel, what is going on over there?" Darius demanded through the line, his voice thick with authority. "Tell me right now."
"There are unexpected visitors at the hotel," Isabel told him, her voice barely a rough whisper as she kept her eyes on the foyer.
"It's the woman from the diner. It turns out she is Owen's estranged wife, and she isn't alone.
Our cousin Baxter is standing right beside her.
" She swallowed hard, the dryness in her throat making it difficult to breathe.
"And Darius... Linda is standing in the foyer right next to them. She’s hearing every single word. "
"I'm already in the car," Darius breathed, the sound of a car door slamming echoing loudly through the phone line before his tires crunched violently over the gravel driveway. "Stall Baxter. Do not let him speak to Linda under any circumstances until I get there."
"I'll try," Isabel told him, though as she disconnected the call, she felt a profound wave of doubt.
Her mind was a complete mess, her thoughts spinning in circles while her heart remained frozen near her feet.
All she could think about, all that kept ringing through her brain, were those five words.
They are still legally married and why does that make me feel like this?
Linda
Linda stood completely rigid, her back straight as a board as she watched the exchange unfold on the lobby rug.
Her mind reeled, trying to process the sudden invasion of her quiet hotel.
What the heck was this vile woman doing on her property, and why on earth were she and Owen still legally bound together?
Owen had explicitly told her years ago that his marriage had ended in a clean, finalized dissolution back in South Carolina.
She took a sharp step forward, her protective instincts for her best friend overriding her confusion. She glanced at the smooth man standing behind the crying woman, recognizing him from the descriptions Michael had shared after the incident at the diner.