The Hotel Nantucket (21)

Back in the bedroom, Kimber has another cracker and then, from the mess of luggage they brought, she fishes out a red duffel. She unzips it to reveal thick bricks of cash. So she wasn’t bluffing about the money, Grace thinks. As she’s stacking the cash in the safe in the walk-in closet, there’s a knock at the door. Kimber tenses, then creeps out to the living room. She looks through the peephole and smiles.

It’s Grace’s crush Zeke (sigh) holding one of the marble chess sets from the lobby. “Edie said that Louie lost his travel chess set. She thought he might like to have a board of his own for the room.”

“Thank you!” Kimber said. “How thoughtful.” She holds up a finger. “Let me get you a little something.”

“No need,” Zeke says. “It’s our pleasure.”



Lizbet has just finished showing the couple from Syracuse around—the woman said she had a “nice” following on Instagram, and Lizbet thought she might help spread the word about the hotel—and she’s been on her feet all day long (what possessed her to wear stilettos?), but when Edie tells her about the family in suite 114, she hustles back to the office. All she can think as she collapses into her chair is that Sweet Edie was duped on day one by some grifter.

She has to go to suite 114.

Lizbet limps down the hall and knocks on the door with a smile on her face that’s so forced, it makes her head ache.

Kimber Marsh opens the door. Thank God Edie warned Lizbet about the hair, because it’s startling. “Ms. Marsh, hello. I’m Lizbet Keaton, the general manager of the hotel.”

“What a beautiful property you have here,” she says. “The kids are in heaven.”

Lizbet had meant to be firm but when the two little towheaded children in glasses tiptoe out of the bunk room, she relents immediately. The girl is holding a book, and the boy clutches a white chess queen. “I spoke with Edie, who checked you in. She told me you’d like to pay in cash, which is fine. I’ll need the first week as a deposit.”

“Yes, of course. One second.” Kimber heads into the bedroom and reappears a moment later with a stack of bills. She counts it out: thirty-three hundred dollars. “The first week plus five hundred for incidentals. I can pay in advance every Monday if that’s easiest?”

“In advance every Monday works,” Lizbet says, relaxing a bit. If the woman pays in advance, there’s no problem, is there? “We’ll slip an invoice under the door and e-mail it to you as well.”

Kimber Marsh opens her arms and hugs Lizbet, and the children run over and grab Lizbet around the legs. Over Kimber’s shoulder, Lizbet sees the dog. He trots over to sniff Lizbet, then plops down at her aching feet.



At the end of the day, Lizbet calls the staff to her office. Raoul, who is working night bell, agrees to watch the desk.

Lizbet gathers Edie, Alessandra, Zeke, Adam, and Magda, who is trailed by a preppy-looking kid wearing rumpled khakis and a pink oxford shirt rolled up above his elbows.

“Lizbet, let me introduce the newest member of my housekeeping staff, Chadwick Winslow,” Magda says. “I trained him today. The other cleaners won’t be in until the morning.”

“Chad Winslow,” the kid says, shaking Lizbet’s hand.

“That’s right, I remember when you dropped off your résumé. I’m glad this worked out. Welcome.”

Chad dips his head. “Thank you for the chance. I’m grateful.”

Chadwick Winslow sounds like a name straight off the Mayflower manifest, but Lizbet wants to foster diversity and inclusivity across the board. Why shouldn’t a rich-looking dude named Chad be cleaning rooms?

Lizbet leads everyone into the break room, which has been decorated to resemble a 1950s diner; there’s the signature turquoise and orange of a Howard Johnson’s and a lot of chrome and Formica. It provides a complete psychological separation from the rest of the hotel, which is important when everyone is working six and a half days a week. There’s a bar counter where the staff can sit and eat lunch, a low, curvy sofa with plenty of pillows for napping, a soft-serve ice cream machine, a vintage pinball machine—Hokus Pokus—and a jukebox that gives four plays for a dollar. Lizbet is seriously impressed by the break room, but for the most part, the staff seem nonplussed. Zeke stares at the pinball machine like it’s a Martian spacecraft, and Lizbet can see him wishing there was a TV and a PS5 instead. Edie inspects the songs on the jukebox and says, “I’ve never heard of any of this music. Who’s Joan Jett?”

Lizbet asks everyone to sit and then checks that the door is closed tight.

“First of all, I want to thank you all for your great work today.” She brings her hands together in front of her chest. The incident with JJ and Mario Subiaco that morning in the parking lot feels like three days ago, and Lizbet has to stay to work the night desk. How is she ever going to make it through the summer?

She isn’t, at this rate, and especially not in heels.

“We have guests in suite one fourteen who will be staying for the summer. I just want to remind everyone that although these guests may become very familiar to you over time, you should always treat them with the highest standards of service. And information about all our guests should be held in the strictest confidence.”

“Of course,” Edie says. Everyone else just nods.