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.
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?