Page 24 of The Hotel Nantucket
“I didn’t realize you knew anyone here.”
“It’s a new friend.” Alessandra holds Lizbet’s gaze and licks ice cream off the back of her spoon. “Someone I met on the boat over here.”
Whaaaa?Lizbet thinks. Alessandra met someoneon the boatand now has a place to live on Hulbert? “Wow, lucky you,” Lizbet says. Her voice sounds a little arch, so she tries to soften it. “How was your first day?”
Alessandra gives Lizbet a pointed look that seems to say,Please go away and leave me to my ice cream. “It was a day.”
Lizbet changes into white jeans, a hydrangea-blue blouse, and—ahh—a pair of running shoes. She steps out to the desk and observes evening settling over the lobby. Golden, syrupy sunlight pours in through the open front doors, and guests head out to dinner—though, of course, not as many guests as Lizbet would like. The lobby feels a bit like a badly attended party. What can she do to increase occupancy? The hotel isn’t cheap—itshouldn’tbe cheap—but it’s slightly less expensive than their competitors are. Lizbet decides to reach out to every media outlet, all those places that fawningly covered the Deck. It would be nice to have some help from Xavier, but he doesn’t seem concerned that their numbers are low. He cares only about the fifth key.
Kimber Marsh’s son, Louie (the name completely suits the little dude; in his seersucker shorts and pressed white polo, he’s both cute and formal, like a child king), wanders into the lobby alone, settles at one of the chessboards, and begins moving pieces. Lizbet watches him for a second, wondering if Kimber will appear. Mr. and Mrs. Stamm from room 303 stop by him on their way out the door.
“You really know what you’re doing,” Mr. Stamm says to Louie. “How old are you?”
Louie doesn’t look up. “Six and a half.”
Mr. Stamm chuckles and says to his wife, “A prodigy.”
Louie moves his white rook and says, “Checkmate.” He turns to Mr. Stamm. “Do you want to play?”
Mr. Stamm laughs. “I’m on my way out right now, but maybe tomorrow, how about that?”
Louie shrugs and the Stamms leave. Lizbet considers going over and offering to play with Louie, but then she sees the break-room door open and Alessandra slip out. Lizbet gets a nutty idea that she immediately dismisses. She’s losing her mind; she’s been at the hotel for nearly twelve hours and she has to last until midnight.
But…she deserves a quick break, and she’s the boss, so there’s no one to stop her.
Alessandra heads down the front stairs and pulls a bike off the rack—it’s one of the hotel bikes; has she asked if she can use it? Lizbet approaches Raoul, who is posted by the front door and has the upright bearing of a guard at Buckingham Palace. “Do you mind watching the desk for twenty minutes or so while I get some air?”
“Not at all,” Raoul says. Raoul has an old-school gallantry that Lizbet just adores and she briefly congratulates herself on a good hire.
“Little Louie is inside playing chess and I don’t see his mother, so if you don’t mind keeping an eye on him?” She winces. “I know you’re not a babysitter.”
“Happy to,” Raoul says.
“Do you play chess?” Lizbet asks.
“I do, actually,” Raoul says. “If it’s quiet, maybe I’ll let him beat me.”
“Terrific! Thank you!” Lizbet watches Alessandra pedal off down Easton Street. “I’ll be right back.”
Lizbet also grabs a hotel bike—they’re brand-new white Treks; Xavier bought a fleet of thirty-five—and takes off behind Alessandra. She savors the wind in her face, the softness of the air, and the gilded tone of the lowering sun, trying to ignore the fact that what she’s doing is completely unhinged. She’s following Alessandra home. If someone were filming this from above, they would see two women—in identical outfits!—one surreptitiously pursuing the other. The tail of Lizbet’s blue blouse billows out behind her. She hums the Wicked Witch’s theme music in her head.
Alessandra goes all the way down Easton, past Great Point Properties, past the entrance to Children’s Beach, past the White Elephant, and Lizbet trails at a distance. She catches a whiff of garlic and butter coming from the Brant Point Grill and her stomach rumbles; she hasn’t eaten a thing all day. Alessandra passes all the grand waterfront homes on the right and takes the curved left turn onto Hulbert before the Coast Guard Station and the Brant Point Light. Lizbet follows. A few cars pass, and Lizbet is afraid she’ll see someone she knows. A bunch of customers from the Deck live on Hulbert; she and JJ used to be invited out here to private pool parties and croquet matches all the time. They’d become friends with two couples, the Bicks and the Laytons, both of whom live in this neighborhood. The Bicks’ house, which has a tennis court, is up ahead and…Alessandra slows down.
There’s no way that Alessandra is living at the Bicks’ house, is there? Michael and Heidi are the quintessential golden couple—they’re both tall, lean, and blond—and they have four young towheaded children. Maybe Alessandra has struck some kind of deal where she watches the kids in the evenings in exchange for housing? But that doesn’t feel quite right. Heidi has a full-time nanny. And something about the way Alessandra said,I have a friend with a house…a new friend. Someone I met on the boatwas sexual in nature. LizbetthoughtAlessandra was intimating that she’d met a guy on the boat, the guy invited her back to his house, and now she’s living there.
Alessandra stops, swings her leg off her bike, and turns around. “Are youfollowingme?” she says.
Lizbet’s foot slips off the pedal and the bike wobbles, but Lizbet pulls the handlebars straight, hits the brakes, and doesn’t crash.
She has no idea what to say. She considers chastising Alessandra for taking a hotel bike without asking, but that seems petty. “I saw you head out and I decided I could use a ride as well. It’s such a beautiful evening and I have to work the desk tonight.” Lizbet glances at the Bicks’ house. The gate to the tennis court is ajar and there’s a racket lying on the bench, so the Bicks must be back on island. Lizbet dearly hopes they aren’t watching this exchange from their window. She started out the day strong, but now she has devolved into some kind of psycho-boss who follows her employees home. With great awkwardness, Lizbet wheels her bike around. “See you tomorrow.” She pedals away, fighting the urge to check where Alessandra is headed. She tells herself it’s none of her business.
When she arrives back at the desk, she finds Raoul and Louie deeply involved in a chess match. Raoul looks up with wide eyes. “The kid is whupping my butt. Fair and square.”
Lizbet nods, preoccupied with her embarrassment. What must Alessandra think of her? It’s mortifying—and yet Lizbet still feels that something isn’t right, something bigger than lying about an interview (that could be seen as strategic) and bigger than taking a bike without asking (who cares; she’ll bring it back tomorrow). Once Lizbet assures herself that nothing pressing needs her attention, she retrieves her cell phone from her office and surreptitiously slides it next to her computer, even though this is, by her own decree, forbidden. She sends a text to Heidi Bick:Hey, girl, just thinking of you. Are you on island? Now that I’m not working at the Deck, we can actually go out to dinner this summer! Let me know when you’re free so we can catch up.
She hits Send and takes a breath. Then she decides to place another ad for a night auditor in theNantucket Standardclassifieds—she won’t be able to go anywhere or do anything until she hires someone. This time, she lists the pay:$25 per hour, plus possible bonuses!Hopefully, that will do the trick.
Suddenly, a young woman is at the desk, holding out a white cardboard box. It’s Beatriz from the Blue Bar.
