The Hotel Nantucket (52)

XD





On the fifth of July, Lizbet calls Edie into the office to say she’s leaving fifteen minutes early.

“No problem,” Edie says. “I can cover things.” Edie gives Lizbet a valiant attempt at a smile but Lizbet knows she must be bitter that Alessandra won the thousand-dollar prize for the second straight week, and as soon as they all got the e-mail from Xavier, Alessandra said she had cramps and would be going home for the day. Later, when Lizbet checked TravelTattler, she saw a glowing review from David Yamaguchi from suite 215, who specifically stated that Alessandra had made his stay “sublime.”

“You’re doing a good job here, Edie,” Lizbet says. “I hope you know that.”

These words, which Lizbet meant to be reassuring, cause a lone tear to drip down Edie’s face. She swipes it away. “Thank you,” she says. “I love the job.”

“But?” Lizbet says.

“No but,” Edie says. “Though I did apply for a position at Annie and the Tees a few nights a week. I need the extra money.”

Lizbet frowns. Edie is already working over fifty hours a week at the hotel. How is she going to handle another job? “Isn’t that taking on a lot?”

“It is,” Edie says. “But I have student loans and…other expenses.”

Lizbet thinks for a moment about intervening with Xavier on Edie’s behalf. An extra thousand dollars would help. But somehow, Lizbet knows Xavier won’t go for it. (This isn’t a participation trophy.) Next, Lizbet thinks about posting a review on TravelTattler under a made-up name, extolling the virtues of a certain Edith Robbins. Fraud, Lizbet thinks. Finally, her mind rests on the four thousand dollars in cash that Kimber Marsh handed over earlier that week. It’s still sitting in the safe because Lizbet hasn’t had a single second to get to the bank. Embezzlement, she thinks.

“You’re so young, Edie,” Lizbet says. “Don’t you want a social life?”

“Not right now,” Edie says. “I told you in my interview, I broke up with my college boyfriend…”

“And you’re taking time alone, which is so…important.” Lizbet leans forward. Here, finally, is one of the bonding moments she’s been waiting for. “I’m not sure if you know this or not, but JJ and I broke up last fall.” She pauses. “We were together fifteen years and it ended…badly.” Lizbet wants to say more, but she won’t. “I did exactly what you’re doing. I got in shape, I found this job, I took the time alone to process and rebuild. I haven’t gone out with anyone socially since we split.” She pauses again. Should she tell Edie? Yes, she thinks. “But tonight, I have a date.”

This brings a smile to Edie’s face—because she is the kind of sweet, generous soul who wants other people to be happy even when she isn’t so happy. “Really?” she says. “With whom?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Lizbet says. “If it goes well.”



If it goes well. Lizbet is going on a date with an extremely hot famous chef who is taking her to the restaurant that is owned by her former boyfriend and managed by the woman he betrayed her with. Some might say this can do nothing but backfire, but Lizbet has other ideas.

She’s wearing a white crocheted sundress that she bought at the ERF boutique on lower Main Street and that she knew looked good on her even before she stepped out of the dressing room and the sales manager, Caylee, whom Lizbet has known forever, shrieked, “Girl, yes!”

Girl, yes! Right after her conversation with Edie, Lizbet leaves the hotel both physically and—maybe for the first time since the place opened—mentally. She heads to the R. J. Miller Salon for a blowout. Lorna, her stylist, makes her hair look like blond silk; it hangs in straight shiny sheets. At home, Lizbet puts on mascara, shimmering face powder, and red lipstick. She wants to wear stilettos but she has witnessed dozens of women catch their heels between the deck boards (one time, in July 2016, it resulted in a gruesomely broken ankle), so she slips on wedges.

Looking in the mirror she thinks: Breaker, not broken.

She thinks: A hundred times hotter than you’ve ever been.

She thinks: Girl, yes!



Mario knocks on her door at quarter to eight, his silver pickup idling in the driveway. He’s wearing jeans, a white linen shirt, a slate-blue blazer, and flip-flops, which in Lizbet’s opinion is the perfect outfit on any man. His smile when he sees Lizbet is so…naughty that Lizbet flushes.

He whistles. “Do I need to say it?”

“Yes.”

“You look…wow. Just wow.”

Lizbet’s flirting skills were dormant during her years with JJ, and she needs to wake them up now. She winks at him. “I brought something for later.” She hands him a cooler bag and hopes he doesn’t think she’s being presumptuous.

He peeks inside and grins. “I like where your head is at.” He reaches for her hand. “Let’s go make people jealous.”



When Mario pulls into the parking lot of the Deck, Lizbet panics.

She’s back.

She sees JJ’s big black Dodge parked in its usual spot, and next to it is the juicy orange Jeep that belongs to Christina. Lizbet can recall dozens of times when that Jeep would pull into the Deck and Lizbet’s spirits would lift. Lizbet had liked Christina; she was charming, funny, modest. She and Lizbet would talk about wine, of course, but also about trips they wanted to take to Italy and South Africa, restaurants they wanted to try the next time they went to New York, and they both loved celebrity scandals (they were verklempt when JLo and A-Rod broke up, and Christina called Lizbet, screaming, when JLo was spotted with Ben Affleck).