The Hotel Nantucket (98)

“We do,” Brian says. He sidles away to make the drinks. Although Chad is dying to ask Ms. English the question that’s reverberating through his mind, he knows enough to wait until their drinks have been set before them and they’ve raised their glasses to each other.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Chad says.

“Thank you for coming, Long Shot. This is way overdue.”

Is it? Chad thinks. There’s no time to consider how long Ms. English has been wanting to invite him for drinks, because the urge to know what happened to Bibi is overwhelming.

“So, what…”

“Barbara gave her notice at the beginning of last week,” Ms. English says. “She was accepted at UMass Dartmouth with a scholarship and she’s going to pursue a degree in criminal justice.”

“What?” Chad says. “She is?”

“Yes, how about that! She forwarded me her acceptance e-mail—I fear because she thought I wouldn’t believe her. Her first day of classes was today.”

Bibi wasn’t fired. She didn’t go on the lam looking for Johnny Quarter. She wasn’t bullied by Octavia and Neves (that was a crazy theory). She was going to college on a scholarship! Chad is embarrassed to find tears gathering in his eyes—he’s so proud of her!

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Chad says. Mixed in with his emotions is the sting of betrayal. Bibi just walked off the day before like everything was normal. See ya, Long Shot.

“She wanted me to tell you,” Ms. English says. “She was afraid of a messy goodbye, I think. Some people are like that.” Ms. English nudges Chad with her elbow. “And the two of you grew so close this summer!”

“It wasn’t like that,” Chad says. He drinks deeply from his beer. It’s the first drink he’s had since May 22, and it gives him an instant buzz. “We were friends.”

“You were more than friends,” Ms. English says. “You planted that belt in the laundry in order to protect her.”

No, I didn’t, Chad wants to say—but he can’t lie, so he shrugs.

“I take it that belt belonged to your mother?” Ms. English says. “Has she missed it?”

Ha! No. The last thing Chad is worried about is Whitney missing her belt. “I thought Bibi might have taken the belt and I didn’t want her to get in trouble.”

“All of my cleaners are extremely honest people,” Ms. English says. “With squeaky-clean résumés. I see to that.”

“What about me?” Chad asks. He finishes his beer; he probably drank it more quickly than he should have. Without his even asking, another one arrives in its place. “Did you do any background research on me?”

“No,” Ms. English says. “You, I hired out of desperation.” She laughs, and Chad has to smile. “I had a feeling about you, but it was a gamble. That’s why I call you Long Shot.”

Yes, Chad gets it. Preppy dudes from wealthy families don’t clean hotel rooms—except this summer one did, and he did it well, he thinks. “Thank you for taking the chance,” he says. “This summer helped me.”

“Helped you?” Ms. English says.

Chad stares into his beer, then takes a long swallow. “Remember at my interview, I told you I messed up?”

“Yes, Long Shot, I do. I’ll admit, I’ve wondered about that statement periodically over the summer. You’re such a hard worker, conscientious, respectful, prompt, responsible, and, as I noticed in regard to your relationship with Barbara, thoughtful and kind. I can’t imagine you being otherwise.”

“Oh, but I was,” Chad says. “I was otherwise.”

Ms. English pats his back lightly. “You don’t have to share,” she says. “Unless you want to, in which case I will listen with rapt interest.”

Chad thinks it over. He has done everything right this summer but he hasn’t taken the most important step in moving on: He hasn’t talked about what happened with anyone. Share, the word Ms. English used, makes him feel like she’ll accept part of the burden he’s been carrying around.

“Something happened this spring,” Chad says. “On May twenty-second.”



On the morning of May 22, Chad woke up freshly graduated from Bucknell University with gentleman’s Cs, looking at a delicious, responsibility-free summer on Nantucket with his parents and his sister, Leith, before he joined his father’s company, the Brandywine Group, in September. Chad’s parents were driving to Deerfield Academy to pick up Leith, who had just finished her junior year. Paul and Whitney Winslow were making an overnight trip of it because they liked to include a romantic stay at the Mayflower Inn. (Chad didn’t like to dwell on this, obviously; they were his parents.) All he cared about was having the house in Radnor to himself so he could throw a little graduation party.

Before his parents left, his mother kissed his cheek and said, “Please be good, Chaddy. And remember to take Lulu out every two hours. She can’t make it to the door by herself anymore, so you’ll have to carry her.”

“I will,” Chad said. Lulu was their fifteen-year-old dachshund whom Chad loved like another sibling. He would be good to the dog—but TBH, he couldn’t wait for his parents to leave.

He’d invited everyone he’d ever known to the party, including a bunch of guys from Bucknell, some of whom had road-tripped for hours to get to the Winslow home. Chad wanted the event to be a step up from the parties he’d thrown in high school, so he bought steaks to throw on the grill, and a bunch of the girls he invited showed up with potato salad and guacamole. Tindley Akers, whom Chad had known since nursery school, brought pot brownies. Chad sampled one as an appetizer—and it sent him flying! After dinner, Chad started a bonfire in the firepit while a bunch of kids splashed around in the pool. Things got wilder from there; honestly, Chad couldn’t remember all the details. He knelt for the Full Send beer funnel multiple times; he did shots of J?germeister and hoovered cocaine off the vanity in the downstairs powder room (that became a joke—“Meet me in the powder room”—though Chad felt guilty when he looked at his mother’s little embroidered towels and fancy soaps).