“You’re turning me down?” Xavier says.
Magda presses her palm to his cheek. “Yes,” she says. “I’m turning you down, sweet man, I’m sorry.”
Grace leaves the suite and spirits back up to the fourth-floor storage closet. If only she’d had the courage and self-assurance to say those words a hundred years earlier—I’m turning you down, Mr. Benedict, I’m sorry—she would have gone on to live a full life. But those words hadn’t been available to Grace in 1922. She feels proud now, not only of Magda but of womankind. There’s been progress made this century.
Grace chuckles. She suspects Wanda will be turning down men left and right.
Lizbet has arranged for Yolanda to take Xavier up to Great Point on Thursday. In Lizbet’s opinion, Great Point is the ultimate Nantucket destination, and Yolanda’s classic Bronco is as cool a vehicle as exists on this island. Lizbet asked Beatriz to prepare a picnic of chilled lobster rolls, yellow tomato gazpacho, corn salad, and some of Mario’s church-picnic eggs in a proper hamper with a bottle or two of Domaines Ott, Xavier’s favorite rosé. Lizbet wonders if Xavier will ask her to go along, since he barely knows Yolanda. She would love to say yes, she has been yearning to stretch out on the sand all summer, but of course she has to stay at the hotel and make sure things run smoothly. Maybe he’ll invite Edie to go—they seemed to hit it off—or his old friend Magda. （Lizbet can’t really spare Magda today or any day, though she’ll have to if Xavier asks.） The only person Lizbet does not want to see go on a day trip with Xavier is Alessandra. The way she threw herself at him in the break room was embarrassing.
Lizbet gets to work early, but apparently not early enough, because when she walks into her office, there’s a note on the desk from Xavier. He’s gone.
“What?” Lizbet shouts. The note says simply: Had to leave the island unexpectedly. So sorry. XD
She bursts out to the desk, but no one is there. It’s seven o’clock. Richie is spending his last morning with Kimber and the kids before they leave on the ferry. Edie and Alessandra won’t arrive for another fifteen minutes, and neither will Adam and Zeke. The only person in the lobby is Louie. He’s at his usual place at the chessboard by the front window, playing against himself. Even at this early hour, he’s dressed in his little polo shirt with his blond hair combed and parted.
Lizbet approaches. Louie has been in the lobby every day since June 6—an eighty-one-day streak—and Lizbet hasn’t found the time to play him in chess even once. She feels bad about this, but she can’t dwell on it now.
“Louie?” she says. “Did you see an older gentleman with silver hair here in the lobby earlier?”
Louie blinks behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “You mean Mr. Darling?”
“Yes,” Lizbet says. “You saw him?”
Louie moves a pawn. “I beat him in sixteen moves.” He shrugs. “He wasn’t bad.”
“You played chess with him? This morning?”
“A while ago,” Louie says. “Then his driver came in, and Mr. Darling asked the driver to take our picture because he said I’m going to be famous someday. Then he left.”
He left.
Lizbet calls Xavier from her office.
“Xavier?” she says. “Is everything okay?” She’s afraid something went wrong and Xavier is too much of a gentleman to tell her. Was the bed uncomfortable? Did he get frustrated with the automatic shades? Was he visited by the ghost? （Lizbet and Xavier have never discussed the ghost; she was too embarrassed to address it, though certainly he saw references to the ghost on their TravelTattler reviews.）
“Everything’s fine.” Xavier’s voice sounds staticky and far away. She’s on the speakerphone in his car, or maybe he’s already in the air. “I have to fly home to tend to a business matter. I’m afraid it couldn’t be helped, though God knows, I tried.”
A business matter? Doesn’t he have people for this? He’s been on Nantucket for less than twenty-four hours!
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Xavier.” If he hasn’t actually boarded his plane, Lizbet might be able to lure him back. “I had a beach trip planned for you, a journey up to Great Point. We prepared a picnic.”
“Sorry to miss it,” Xavier says. “I’d like to say I’ll do it next time, but I’m not sure there will be a next time.”
Lizbet nearly drops the phone. What does he mean, he’s not sure there’ll be a next time? “Did something go wrong? Did something…happen?” She wonders if maybe Richie rubbed him the wrong way （impossible; Richie is an ace） or if maybe he found out about Doug the dog （wouldn’t he have said something?）。