“And Lizbet gave him a job anyway?” Jordan says.
“I’m sure she was desperate for the help,” the chief says. “She hired some guy who presented well but who ended up being in over his head.” He pauses. “Some days I feel like that guy.”
“Yeah,” Jordan says. “Me too.” And the conversation ends on a laugh.
Blond Sharon can’t believe her good luck. The Hotel Nantucket is at the center of all this gossip at the same time that her sister, Heather, checks in for a weeklong stay. Sharon picks up Heather （who is brunette） from the airport, drives her to the hotel, and accompanies her inside under the guise of “getting her settled,” but really Sharon wants to find out what, precisely, is going on. She passes Sweet Edie Robbins on the front steps. Edie waves and says she’s going to lunch but that Alessandra will be happy to check Heather in.
Bingo! Sharon thinks. Alessandra is one of the people Sharon wants to see, because Alessandra is reputedly the woman who slept with Michael Bick, then made everyone think it was Lyric Layton. Sharon is expecting a villainess from a James Bond film, and while she’s not disappointed by Alessandra’s appearance—she’s a stunner, with wavy strawberry-blond hair and stylish makeup （she’s wearing white eyeliner, and Sharon wonders if she could get away with that or if she’s twenty-five years too old, and what about eye crystals?）—Alessandra isn’t the evil bitch that Sharon expects. She’s warm and genuine as well as incredibly helpful and organized. She prints a list of all of Heather and Sharon’s dinner reservations and she has somehow managed to score the two of them a tee time for the next day at Miacomet Golf Club （which is basically impossible, because everyone knows there’s a top secret list of preferred clients even though the course is public）。
Well done, Alessandra! Sharon thinks. “Is Lizbet around, by any chance?” Sharon asks.
“Let me see if she’s available,” Alessandra says.
A second later, Lizbet emerges from the back office looking as fabulous as ever in a black linen sheath with peekaboo cutouts at the waist and a cute belt.
“Is the black because you’re in mourning?” Sharon asks. “I hear the hotel is being sold.”
“I’m optimistic that whoever buys it will keep it the way it is so we’ll all have our jobs next summer.”
“Hmmm,” Sharon says. “Not to be Gertie Gloom, but I heard there was a buyer already who wants to turn it into a corporate headquarters.”
Lizbet purses her lips. “Sharon,” she chides, “you know better than to spread rumors.”
“I have a good source.”
“Well, then, I suppose I’ll be moving to LA,” Lizbet says.
Sharon is rendered temporarily speechless. Nobody on this island wants to see Lizbet move away.
“What happened to your night manager?” Sharon asks. “I heard the FBI arrested him.”
Lizbet smiles without showing any teeth. Sharon isn’t without self-awareness; she knows she’s pushing it with this question.
“Richie is a very sweet man,” Lizbet says. “However, Love Robbins will be on the night desk until we close.”
Sharon reaches out a hand. “We’re all wishing you well, sweetie pie.”
And it’s true, we all are. It’s one of the few things we can agree on. After watching the unlikely blossoming of the Hotel Nantucket over the summer, we want to see it succeed.
But we have to admit, it’s not looking good.
27. Long Shot
At eight o’clock Monday night, there’s a knock on the front door. Chad is up in his room playing Madden NFL, though he’s supposed to be getting a head start on his packing. His job at the Brandywine Group starts the Tuesday after Labor Day.
After his drinks date with Ms. English the previous Wednesday, Chad marched into his house and invited his mother, father, and Leith into the formal living room. They complied, probably only because it was such an unusual request; they never used the formal living room.
Chad had some things he wanted to say.
“First of all, I’d like to apologize. I’m to blame for Paddy losing an eye, for Lulu’s death, and for all of the damage done to our house.”
“Chaddy,” his mother said. “I thought we agreed to move on.”
Chad ignores this predictable response. “I got a job at the Hotel Nantucket because I wanted a summer of honest work. I didn’t want to teach little kids to chip and putt, I wanted to do something difficult—unpleasant, even.” Chad paused. “I didn’t take the job to make you proud of me, I did it for myself. But even so, I’m surprised that you don’t seem to find my decision laudable.”