The Hotel Nantucket (104)

Eeeeeee! Grace thinks. She’s swirling around the room like a funnel cloud. Xavier loves Magda! He’s proposing—and unlike Jack, who promised Grace every time he visited the storage closet that he would divorce Dahlia and marry her, Xavier means it. He probably already has a ring picked out.

Xavier reaches over to his nightstand, opens the little curved drawer, and produces a box from Harry Winston.

He sits up in bed, the covers still (thankfully) smooth across his lap, and presents the box to Magda.

“What have you done, Xavier?” she says.

“I went all in,” Xavier says. “Open it.”

Magda opens the box to reveal a movie-star engagement ring. It’s a light pink oval diamond—Grace doesn’t know carats from carrots but it’s big—in a setting of pavé diamonds and rose gold.

“Well,” Magda says.

“Try it on.”

Magda snaps the box closed. “Oh, Xavier, I can’t try it on. I’m not going to marry you. I think you’re a wonderful man and I’m very grateful for all you’ve done for me.” She stares up at the exact spot where Grace is hovering; Grace holds her gaze, even though she knows that all Magda sees is the Nantucket night sky painted on the ceiling. “I consider you a dear friend. You make me laugh; I enjoy your company and a little roll in the hay, because at my age, I’m happy I can still roll. But I don’t love you. I do love this hotel and this job and being able to keep an eye on Zeke and William. I’ve been looking at some real estate on Eel Point Road, houses with ocean views and a pool and gardens. I haven’t found the right one yet, but my plan, Xavier, is to stay here. I’m happy here.”

“You’re turning me down?” Xavier says.

Magda presses her palm to his cheek. “Yes,” she says. “I’m turning you down, sweet man, I’m sorry.”

Grace leaves the suite and spirits back up to the fourth-floor storage closet. If only she’d had the courage and self-assurance to say those words a hundred years earlier—I’m turning you down, Mr. Benedict, I’m sorry—she would have gone on to live a full life. But those words hadn’t been available to Grace in 1922. She feels proud now, not only of Magda but of womankind. There’s been progress made this century.

Grace chuckles. She suspects Wanda will be turning down men left and right.



Lizbet has arranged for Yolanda to take Xavier up to Great Point on Thursday. In Lizbet’s opinion, Great Point is the ultimate Nantucket destination, and Yolanda’s classic Bronco is as cool a vehicle as exists on this island. Lizbet asked Beatriz to prepare a picnic of chilled lobster rolls, yellow tomato gazpacho, corn salad, and some of Mario’s church-picnic eggs in a proper hamper with a bottle or two of Domaines Ott, Xavier’s favorite rosé. Lizbet wonders if Xavier will ask her to go along, since he barely knows Yolanda. She would love to say yes, she has been yearning to stretch out on the sand all summer, but of course she has to stay at the hotel and make sure things run smoothly. Maybe he’ll invite Edie to go—they seemed to hit it off—or his old friend Magda. (Lizbet can’t really spare Magda today or any day, though she’ll have to if Xavier asks.) The only person Lizbet does not want to see go on a day trip with Xavier is Alessandra. The way she threw herself at him in the break room was embarrassing.

Lizbet gets to work early, but apparently not early enough, because when she walks into her office, there’s a note on the desk from Xavier. He’s gone.

“What?” Lizbet shouts. The note says simply: Had to leave the island unexpectedly. So sorry. XD

She bursts out to the desk, but no one is there. It’s seven o’clock. Richie is spending his last morning with Kimber and the kids before they leave on the ferry. Edie and Alessandra won’t arrive for another fifteen minutes, and neither will Adam and Zeke. The only person in the lobby is Louie. He’s at his usual place at the chessboard by the front window, playing against himself. Even at this early hour, he’s dressed in his little polo shirt with his blond hair combed and parted.

Lizbet approaches. Louie has been in the lobby every day since June 6—an eighty-one-day streak—and Lizbet hasn’t found the time to play him in chess even once. She feels bad about this, but she can’t dwell on it now.

“Louie?” she says. “Did you see an older gentleman with silver hair here in the lobby earlier?”

Louie blinks behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “You mean Mr. Darling?”

“Yes,” Lizbet says. “You saw him?”

Louie moves a pawn. “I beat him in sixteen moves.” He shrugs. “He wasn’t bad.”

“You played chess with him? This morning?”

“A while ago,” Louie says. “Then his driver came in, and Mr. Darling asked the driver to take our picture because he said I’m going to be famous someday. Then he left.”

He left.

Lizbet calls Xavier from her office.

“Xavier?” she says. “Is everything okay?” She’s afraid something went wrong and Xavier is too much of a gentleman to tell her. Was the bed uncomfortable? Did he get frustrated with the automatic shades? Was he visited by the ghost? (Lizbet and Xavier have never discussed the ghost; she was too embarrassed to address it, though certainly he saw references to the ghost on their TravelTattler reviews.)