Page 30 of The Hotel Nantucket
Lizbet nearly asked if they could switch places: Kimber could watch the desk and Lizbet would go to suite 114 and sleep in the emperor-size bed.
Kimber poured herself a giant cup of coffee—coffee?—and leaned against the desk to have a chat.Fine, good,Lizbet thought. It would keep her awake for her remaining hour.
Kimber said, “My husband left me for our nanny, whom he has now impregnated—and let me tell you, that was a wake-up call.”
Yes, you told me,Lizbet thought. She’d had a wake-up call of her own, though she didn’t want to tell Kimber Marsh about her breakup with JJ. She was so tired, she was sure she’d start to cry.
“I’m going to use this summer to reconnect with my kids,” Kimber said. “I traveled so often for work, I barely saw them. They were always with Jenny, our nanny. Honestly, it’s no wonder Craig left me for her. I was never around, so she slotted herself right into my vacant place and became not only a substitute mom but a substitute wife.” Kimber leaned in. “That’s why the kids are so consumed with the reading and the chess—something was missing from their little lives, and that something was me.” Kimber sipped her coffee and reached for a copy of the Blue Book sitting on the desk. “Starting tomorrow, I’m going to do better. I’m going to do all the suggested itineraries in this guidebook.”
The following day, Thursday, Kimber and the kids took Doug to Tupancy Links for a long walk, then they went to Barnaby’s Place to do an art project, had lunch at Something Natural, and spent the afternoon on Children’s Beach. But on Friday, Kimber plopped herself under an umbrella by the pool and read while Louie played chess in the lobby and Wanda interviewed hotel guests and Zeke took Doug out to do his business. On Saturday, Kimber didn’t come down from her room until late afternoon. When she did, she had her laptop with her; she announced she was going to sit in the lobby and write her memoirs.Okay?Lizbet thought. At least Kimber could keep an eye on Wanda, who was finishing the last Nancy Drew mystery she had, and Louie, who was playing chess against himself. But Lizbet felt dismayed that the Marsh family had spent the entire day inside. Late-June days on Nantucket were the gold standard for the season—blue skies, plentiful sunshine, lilacs and cherry blossoms, and without the overbearing heat and humidity of July and August. But Sunday morning, Kimber rebounded and took the kids strawberry picking at Bartlett’s Farm. When they came back, Wanda walked into the lobby proudly holding an overflowing quart of luridly red fruit. While Lizbet was pleased they had gotten out, she couldn’t help thinking about the pristine white linens on the beds and the Annie Selke rug, so she offered to wash the strawberries and let the children eat them over soft-serve vanilla ice cream in the break room.
Both Wanda and Louie had been gobsmacked by the ice cream machine.
“I want to work here when I grow up,” Wanda announced.
Then, at a quarter past ten on Sunday evening—when Lizbet was fading fast; she’d worked double shifts for seven straight days—Kimber Marsh came flying into the lobby in what Lizbet’s mother would have called “a dither.”
Wanda wasn’t in her bed, she said. “Have you seen Wanda?” Kimber practically screamed.“Have you seen her?”
“I haven’t,” Lizbet said. She did a sweep of the lobby, checking Wanda’s favorite reading chair and under the piano, where (inexplicably) Wanda sometimes liked to read, then said, “Let me look in the break room.” (The allure of the soft-serve machine was strong; Lizbet had to fight it herself each and every day.)
But the break room was empty.
Lizbet enlisted Raoul’s help—he would search the hotel, floor by floor. Kimber asked if it might be possible for her to let Doug out of their suite. She was certain he would lead them right to Wanda. Lizbet hesitated; the last thing she wanted was a pit bull roaming the halls of the hotel. But Lizbet sensed the urgency—an eight-year-old child was missing at ten fifteen at night—so she okayed it.
Raoul called up from the wellness center: no Wanda. “I thought she might be in the yoga room,” Raoul said. “That fountain is mesmerizing.” He was now moving to the first floor.
“Check all the unoccupied rooms, please,” Lizbet said. There were twenty-one empty rooms and six empty suites (Lizbet felt each vacancy like a pinhole in her heart). “Maybe she found a way in.”
Lizbet tried to think like Wanda. She seemed fascinated by the other guests, so Lizbet poked her head into the only populated area of the hotel, the Blue Bar—and wow! The place was popping. The bar was three-deep, every seat was occupied, the copper disco ball had dropped, and a group of people were dancing to “Tainted Love” in the space in front of the penny wall. Lizbet surveyed the crowd at hip level and tried to peer under tables. There was no sign of Wanda anywhere, though Lizbet spied plenty of people drinking flame-red cocktails, the Heartbreaker.
When Lizbet got back to the desk, a round, middle-aged woman wearing glasses with dark, square frames and a fanny pack around her waist—she looked like an aging version of Velma fromScooby-Doo—was standing at the desk.
“Finally!” she huffed.
“I’m so sorry,” Lizbet said. “You must be Ms. Yates?”
“I arrived over five minutes ago and you’re the first person I’ve seen!”
Lizbet returned to her spot behind her computer just as Raoul came rushing down the corridor, saying, “I’m headed up to the second floor.”
Lizbet gave Raoul the thumbs-up; she was afraid if she spoke, she would lose her cool. A child missing in the hotel, she thought. Ornotin the hotel. When was the right time to call the police?
“I’ll need a form of ID and your credit card, please, Ms. Yates.”
Franny Yates pulled both a Pennsylvania driver’s license and a Mastercard out of her fanny pack.
“You’re certainly traveling light,” Lizbet said.
“My luggage is down on the sidewalk!” Franny said. “It’s far too heavy for me to carry up the stairs. Silly me, I thought a hotel that costs as much as this one does might actually have a bellman!”
“We do have a bellman,” Lizbet said. “Right now, he’s assisting another guest. I’m happy to fetch your luggage.”
“You won’t be able to get it up the stairs,” Franny said.
Lizbet winked at Franny. “You haven’t seen me with kettlebells.” But when Lizbet went to the hotel’s entrance and looked down the staircase, she saw three black suitcases that were each big enough to contain a dead body. Franny Yates was staying at the hotel for only three nights. What could she possibly have packed?
Lizbet returned to the desk. “My apologies—you were absolutely correct. We’ll have to wait for Raoul.”
