The Hotel Nantucket (9)
Lizbet meets Ms. English (“Please,” she says, “call me Magda”) in the lobby, and Grace trails them down the hall at a distance; she can tell nothing gets past this woman.
“We have thirty-six rooms,” Lizbet says. “And twelve suites.”
Magda has regal posture and barely a single line on her face. As she and Lizbet stroll the corridor, she admires the mahogany barrel ceiling and the brass portholes, salvaged from a French ocean liner, along the walls. “I used to run housekeeping on cruise ships, so I’ll feel right at home,” Magda says. Her voice has a delightful West Indian lilt (whereas Mrs. Wilkes’s voice had been like a cheese grater on Grace’s backside). “These portholes will need to be polished every week.”
Lizbet opens the door to room 108. Grace slips in and settles on top of the canopy bed, adjusting her robe for modesty. She’s chosen this spot because she can’t be seen in the mirror or window.
Magda walks over to the emperor-size bed and runs a hand over the duvet cover. “Matouk sheets?”
“Good guess,” Lizbet says.
“I know my linens.” Magda picks up the hydrangea-blue cashmere throw at the foot of the bed. “This is lovely.”
“All the rooms have them. They’re woven at Nantucket Looms especially for the hotel.”
“I hope they plan on weaving extras,” Magda says, “because these will ‘accidentally’ find their way into the guests’ luggage, I assure you.” She pokes her head into the walk-in closet and then the bathroom. “How many people would be on my staff?”
“Four,” Lizbet says.
Magda laughs. “That’s a tenth of what I’m used to. But it should be enough.”
“So what brought you to Nantucket?” Lizbet asks.
Magda sighs. “I spent the first half of my career on ships in the Mediterranean, then I requested a transfer back home to the Caribbean. When my brother’s wife died in September, I took my retirement and moved here to take care of him and my nephew Ezekiel.”
“Ezekiel English is your nephew? I’m interviewing him this afternoon.”
“He’s a lovely boy, as you’ll see for yourself.” She smiles. “Zeke and William have had a rough few months…but now that they’re back on their feet, a little job will fill my days.”
Lizbet raises her eyebrows. “This is more than just a little job.”
“Well, it’s not a cruise ship,” Magda says. “My standards are impeccable, as my previous employer will attest. I promise you, the hotel will be cleaner than it’s ever been in the past.”
Well! Grace thinks indignantly. I guess we’ll see about that.
After Magda departs, Lizbet considers going for a lunchtime run or grabbing one of the mountain bikes from the hotel’s brand-new fleet and powering out a quick ride. This morning she finally felt a thaw in the air, but as tempting as it is to go outside, Lizbet decides to stay at her laptop. First, she checks the references of a married couple—Adam and Raoul Wasserman-Ramirez—who have both applied for bellman positions. They currently work at the Four Seasons in Punta Mita, Mexico, and want to come to New England for the summer. Lizbet has been putting off deciding about Adam and Raoul because she isn’t sure hiring a married couple for the same job is a good idea, even though they both interviewed well over the phone. What if they bicker? What if one far outperforms the other?
The e-mail from the GM at the Four Seasons is glowing. It mentions that Adam has a “beautiful singing voice.” (How is this relevant? Lizbet wonders. He’s going to be schlepping bags.) The letter ends with We at the Four Seasons Punta Mita have determined it’s best if the Wasserman-Ramirezes are scheduled separately.
Ha! Lizbet’s instincts were correct—but the reality remains that she needs three bellmen, and her options are limited. She’ll hire Adam and Raoul.
Next, although she has cautioned herself not to, she checks to see if there are any new reservations for opening week.
There’s one, a booking for four nights made by a couple from Syracuse. This is heartening, but the fact that the hotel’s overall occupancy is hovering at just above 25 percent a full week after the website went live is not. They placed banner ads on all the major travel websites, and Lizbet wrote what she felt was an excellent press release, but there have been very few takers. When Lizbet called Jill Tananbaum at the Nantucket Standard to see what had become of her piece, Jill said, “Jordan told me he might run it at some point but he can’t say when.”
Lizbet hung up, discouraged. The reputation of the hotel was, admittedly, abominable, and Xavier’s interest in it was somewhat perplexing, but it had undergone a remarkable metamorphosis.
Building the new! she thinks. But only an instant later, she wonders if she’s in over her head. It had been far easier to sell herself to Xavier than she’d anticipated (considering she had no actual hotel experience)—and only now does Lizbet wonder how much competition she had. Is it possible she was the only person who applied for this job?
Xavier has asked Lizbet to book him suite 317—historically, the hotel owner’s suite—from August 24 to August 28. It feels a little strange that Xavier isn’t coming until the end of August, but Lizbet is relieved. By then, she might know what she’s doing.
Lizbet isn’t sure where all this self-doubt is coming from; she’s probably just hungry. She’s tempted to run over to Born and Bread for a sandwich, but there isn’t time. Her next interview is here.