The magnanimity that was extended to me throughout my stay began at check-in: I was upgraded to one of the hotel’s exquisite suites for the price of a standard street-view room. The living area of the suite included a library wall that was lined with books—a mixture of current bestsellers （with a whole shelf dedicated to “beach reads”） and classics. There was a cushioned window seat wide and long enough to actually accommodate a reclining adult human （so often, I feel that window seats are only for show）。 Also in the living area was the complimentary minibar.
That’s right, friends, I said complimentary.
The minibar was stocked with local beer, wine, and spirits, smoked bluefish paté and guacamole from local fishmonger 167 Raw, and packages of crackers and chips （gluten-free crackers available upon request）。
The master bedroom featured the largest bed I have ever slept in （it’s a custom size called emperor）。 The bed was sheathed in Matouk linens （my preferred brand, as you know） and topped with a cashmere blanket from local weaver Nantucket Looms. The ceiling of the room was hand-painted with the Nantucket night sky by Tamela Cornejo, which was a particularly appropriate touch since Nantucket is the birthplace of noted female astronomer Maria Mitchell.
The bathroom was the Platonic ideal: spacious, luxurious, well appointed. The shower was tiled with oyster shells, the lighting over the sink made my skin look as dewy as Anne Hathaway’s in The Princess Diaries （am I aging myself?）， and there was a separate water closet, which I always prefer.
The hotel featured a wellness center （which, I will not lie, friends, I did not visit after my initial inspection, though other guests gushed about the gym, the sauna, and the yoga studio） and two glorious pools, one a joyous hive of activity for families and one a serene refuge for adults only.
Friends, I am officially over my word limit—but I refuse to stop, because the best is yet to come!
The hotel’s restaurant, the Blue Bar, was the brainchild of Chef Mario Subiaco （I don’t have space to list his accolades; google him）。 The Blue Bar offered an experience unlike any other on Nantucket; it feels like walking into a swanky A-list party you can’t believe you’ve been invited to. The cocktails were made with top-shelf liquor, the fare was fun-loving （pigs in a blanket）， a little retro （church-picnic deviled eggs）， and a little decadent （luscious caviar sandwiches）。 All meals end with a visit from the whipped cream concierge. （Vegan whipped cream available upon request.） A copper disco ball dropped at nine o’clock and the music switched to ’80s dance hits.
The best part of the Hotel Nantucket wasn’t the conviviality in the lobby or the expansive real estate of the bed or the festive atmosphere of the Blue Bar.
The best part of the Hotel Nantucket was the staff. It may have taken me fifteen years to realize this, friends, but realize it I have: Hotels aren’t about rooms. They aren’t about amenities. They’re about people—and the people who work at the Hotel Nantucket are what earned the property its fifth key.
The front-desk clerks, the bellmen, the night auditor, the housekeeping crew, and the general manager, Lizbet Keaton, were attentive. They listened. They were friendly. They were helpful. They were knowledgeable. And above all, they were kind.
Some of you might be wondering if I’m going to address the elephant in the room: Is the Hotel Nantucket, as reported by the AP, the Washington Post, and USA Today, haunted by the ghost of Grace Hadley, a chambermaid who was killed in a fire in 1922? I don’t believe in ghosts—or I didn’t before my stay at the Hotel Nantucket. During my stay I heard tales of flickering lights, music blaring out of nowhere, the electric shades going haywire. None of those stories persuaded me. However, I did feel a watchful, even nurturing, presence throughout my stay. It’s my unshakable opinion that Grace Hadley makes most of the hotel’s guests （including yours truly） feel safe—and yes, even loved. （But, as with any strong woman, I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her.）
I’m sure some of you have already predicted what I’m going to say next: This will be my final Hotel Confidential post. Some of you might suspect that I’m stopping because I have finally found perfection, my Shangri-La, and there may be some truth to that. Any property I visited after such a transformative experience would no doubt be a letdown. But the bigger and more important reason I’m retiring from this particular endeavor is because I want more time to stay home and take care of my children. （Surprise! I have two children—and a dog as well!）