The Hotel Nantucket (8)

Grace is wearing her new robe and, to replace her frilled cap, the Minnesota Twins hat that she casually disappeared from Lizbet’s gym bag a few days ago. She perches on the highest shelf in Lizbet’s office, which gives her an excellent vantage point for seeing the candidates. Grace vividly remembers her own hiring in the spring of 1922. There were at least forty girls shepherded into the ballroom of the hotel, and each one was handed a rag. Mrs. Wilkes, head of housekeeping, had inspected each girl’s technique as she dusted the wainscoting and the round oak banquet tables. Grace suspects Mrs. Wilkes had also been noting appearances, because it was mostly the pretty girls who were chosen; the ugly girls were sent home.

Lawsuits, Grace thinks now with a chuckle.

Grace peers over Lizbet’s shoulder at the short stack of résumés on the desk. The first candidate is a twenty-two-year-old Nantucket resident named Edith Robbins who has applied for a front-desk position. Lizbet opens the door to her office and invites Edith—a young woman with luminous brown skin who’s wearing a pencil skirt and kitten heels—to take a seat.

“Sweet Edie!” Lizbet says. “I can’t get over how grown up you are! I remember your mom and dad bringing you to the Deck on your birthday.”

Sweet Edie beams. “Every year.”

“How’s your mom doing? I haven’t seen her since your dad’s funeral.”

“She’s working full-time at Flowers on Chestnut and she took my dad’s spot in the Rotary Club,” Edie says. “So she’s keeping busy.”

“Please tell her I said hello. Now, I realize you’re the child of two seasoned hospitality professionals, but I have to ask—didn’t your mom want you to work at the Beach Club?”

“She did,” Edie says. “But I thought this would be the more exciting opportunity. Everyone on the island is talking about this place.”

“Oh, really? What are they saying?”

Edie gives Lizbet what might be called an uneasy smile. What are they saying? Grace wonders. Is anyone talking about her?

“Your résumé is impressive!” Lizbet says. “You graduated from the school of hotel administration at Cornell, where you were a Statler Fellow. You were number one in your class!”

Of course she was! Grace thinks. Look at her!

“In your opinion,” Lizbet says, “what’s the most important aspect of hospitality?”

“Making a genuine connection with each guest from minute one,” Edie says. “A warm greeting and a smile—‘We’re happy you’re here. Let us help you have a wonderful stay.’”

“Great answer,” Lizbet says. “It states here that you worked at the Statler Hotel on Cornell’s campus and then, last summer, at Castle Hill in Newport?”

“Yes, my boyfriend and I worked at Castle Hill together. That property is a-maze-ing!”

Lizbet’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is your boyfriend here for the summer? Because I’m still looking for—”

“We broke up right after graduation,” Edie says.

Grace can’t imagine what kind of fool would break up with this captivating young woman.

“We both got offers from the Ritz-Carlton management-training program,” Edie says. “But I wanted to spend the summer on Nantucket with my mom. Graydon asked if he could come and I said no. I wanted to start my adult life as an independent woman.”

Good for you, Grace thinks. She would have wanted to be an independent woman back in the day if that had been a thing.

“I’d love to offer you a spot on our front desk,” Lizbet says. “Your starting wage will be twenty-five dollars an hour.”

Grace understands inflation, but even so, this number is mind-boggling. In 1922, she made thirty-five cents an hour!

“We’re paying well above industry standard,” Lizbet says. “But then again, we expect more. It’ll be a rigorous schedule.”

“Not a problem,” Edie says. “One of the things they drilled into us at Cornell was that we would have no personal life.”

“At least you’re prepared.” Lizbet leans in. “I suppose you follow Shelly Carpenter on Instagram?”

“‘Stay well, friends,’” Edie says. “‘And do good.’ Her reviews are fire!”

Fire, Grace thinks. Everything good these days is fire. She can’t wait for this term to move along.

“Do you think she’ll ever give five keys?” Lizbet asks.

“My friends and I used to debate what it would take for her to grant the fifth key. The woman is so nitpicky, and yet she’s not unreasonable. If you ask for skim milk with your room-service coffee, you should get it. The blow-dryer should work without pushing the reset button. I’m of the opinion that, if you pay attention and have the resources, then yes, a fifth key is possible.”

“Excellent. The hotel’s owner, Mr. Darling, is determined to get the fifth key.”

Sweet Edie beams. “I’m so here for it!”



The next interview is right in Grace’s wheelhouse: head of housekeeping! Grace scans the résumé: Magda English, age fifty-nine. There are two addresses listed, one in St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands, and one just around the corner on West Chester Street. Ms. English’s experience includes thirty-two years as director of housekeeping on XD Cruise Lines. Ms. English retired in 2021, and yet here she is, the woman who might be the new Mrs. Wilkes.