"I was just in the area,” Jess said, gesturing vaguely toward the windows as if the entire island constituted "the area." She was grateful for her sunglasses, still perched on her nose despite the indoor setting, offering some shield against his direct gaze. "Nadine has been handling all the finer details, and I guess I just wanted to see everything myself before all kicks off.”
Logan nodded, his expression shifting smoothly into something professionally pleasant, as if he were meeting any bride, not the girl who had once known the constellation of freckles across his shoulders by heart. "Understandable. This is your big day, after all."
Your big day. The phrase hit her with unexpected force. How strange to hear those words in Logan's voice.
"Would you like me to show you around?" he offered, his hands sliding into the pockets of his well-tailored pants. "We've made quite a few changes since the renovation. I'd be happy to give you the full tour."
The Logan she remembered had lived in faded jeans with holes in the knees, his pockets perpetually filled with interesting shells and smooth stones found along the shore. This new Logan - with his crisp shirt and expensive watch - was a stranger wearing familiar features.
"That would be great, actually," Jess replied, removing her sunglasses and hooking them into the neckline of her blouse. If they were going to do this, she wouldn't hide behind tinted lenses. "I'd love to see what you've done with the place."
Something flickered in his eyes at her choice of words - perhaps recognition of how the simple phrase echoed conversations they'd once had about dream houses and future plans. But it vanished quickly, replaced by a professional smilethat revealed no hint of the boy who had jokingly promised to build her a cottage with a widow's walk where she could watch for his boat returning.
“Let’s start with the dining room," Logan said, gesturing toward the doorway.
He stepped back, allowing her to pass through the doorway first, maintaining that careful buffer of space between them. Jess felt the absence of contact like a physical thing - a negative space that hummed with awareness.
The hallway connecting the ballroom to the dining room had once been dark, its walls covered in heavy Victorian wallpaper that had yellowed with age. Now the space was transformed - walls painted a soft dove gray that caught the light streaming through new transoms above each doorway. Historic photographs of the island hung in simple black frames, documenting Nantucket's evolution through the centuries.
"These are new," Jess commented, pausing before a striking black-and-white image of harbor ice from the winter of 1948, when the sound had frozen solid enough for people to walk from the mainland.
"Local photographer's archives," Logan replied, stopping beside her but not too close. "We wanted to honor the building's history while updating the experience. Finding that balance was... challenging."
"You've succeeded," she said, meaning it. "It feels both familiar and new."
Their eyes met briefly, and Jess wondered if he caught the double meaning in her words. His expression revealed nothing, but she noticed a subtle tightening of his jaw - a tell she remembered from their youth, when he was holding something back.
They continued down the hall, passing the small library where wingback chairs now upholstered in natural linen hadreplaced the faded floral pieces of Jess's memory. Through the open door, she glimpsed shelves filled with books on maritime history, local flora and fauna, and Nantucket's whaling past.
"We kept all the original built-ins," Logan said, following her gaze. "Just refinished them. The woodwork in this building is extraordinary - old-growth pine that you can't find anymore. I couldn't rip it out."
"I remember hiding in here during my parents' thirtieth anniversary party," Jess said, the memory surfacing unexpectedly. "I must have been about ten. I found a book about lighthouse keepers' daughters and read until my father found me past midnight."
Logan's professional mask softened slightly. "You always did prefer books to parties."
"Still do," she admitted.
The moment of genuine connection hung between them, delicate as spring sea foam on the shore. Then Logan checked his watch - a subtle gesture that reset the boundaries - and they continued toward the dining room.
The transformation here was even more dramatic. What had once been a formal space with heavy drapes and dark wainscoting was now flooded with light from walls of windows facing the water. Round tables would be arranged throughout the space for the reception dinner, but currently the room held only a few sample place settings on linen-covered tables near the windows.
"Nadine approved these last week," Logan said, gesturing to an elaborate table setting that featured sea glass accents and white hydrangeas floating in crystal bowls. "Though she requested the napkins be folded in what she called the 'classic sail shape' rather than this simpler fold."
A smile tugged at Jess's lips despite herself. "Let me guess - she brought photos for reference? Possibly a detailed diagram?"
"A three-page printout with folding instructions in four different languages," Logan confirmed, his own mouth curving upward. "Just in case our staff includes international napkin-folding experts who might prefer their native tongue."
Jess laughed, the sound escaping before she could contain it. "That sounds exactly like Nadine. She even created color-coded our bridesmaids' emergency kits. Mine is pink, in case you were wondering."
"I'd have guessed blue," Logan said, then seemed to catch himself, as if remembering he shouldn't know her favorite color anymore. He cleared his throat. "The cake will be displayed over here," he continued, indicating an antique sideboard positioned to showcase the harbor view behind it. "Perfect for photos."
They moved through the dining room toward a set of French doors that led to a stone terrace overlooking the water. Logan held one door open, again maintaining that careful distance as Jess passed through. Outside, the April air carried the distinctive scent of spring on Nantucket - salt water, new growth, and the subtle fragrance of beach plums beginning to bloom along the dunes.
"Your rehearsal dinner would have been out here," Logan said, gesturing to the terrace with its unobstructed view of the sound. “But I understand that's been moved to Thursday now."
Something in his tone made Jess glance up sharply. Did he disapprove of the change, or was she projecting her own guilt about Julian's delayed arrival?
"Yes," she confirmed. "My fiancé’s schedule changed last minute. These things happen."
