—Jackson Floyd Benedict
When Edie stops reading, a hush comes over Lizbet’s office.
Finally, Alessandra speaks. “What a buzzkill.”
“No wonder Grace haunts the hotel,” Lizbet says. “I would too if I were her.”
Edie turns the page and finds it blank. “This is the only entry in the diary,” she says. Her eyebrows shoot up. “This is all he wanted us to know.”
29. Mosaic
Grace was hanging—literally, hanging—on Edie, reading Jack’s words, and it was even more cleansing and validating than she dreamed it might be. Dahlia set the fire, Dahlia locked the door so it wouldn’t open, but Jack was correct—ultimately, Grace’s presence in that room was his fault, and Dahlia’s infernal jealousy also his fault.
It’s a written confession, just like in the movies.
Lizbet puts the diary in the safe in her office. Tomorrow, she announces, she’ll show it to Jordan Randolph at the Nantucket Standard. Grace can only hope that he’ll write a follow-up article to the one published a century ago: “Crime Solved a Hundred Years Later! Grace Hadley Murdered by Hotel Owners!”
Grace feels lighter. There’s no anger weighing her down, no indignation shackling her to the hotel, no leaden angst. She’s free to go to her eternal rest. She’s taking the robe with her—but she leaves Lizbet’s Minnesota Twins cap on the Formica bar in the break room.
Let her wonder.
Grace finds the hatch to the widow’s walk open and when she ascends to the fresh afternoon air, just tinged with salt, she catches Lizbet and Mario leaning against the railing, sneaking in some kissing. Grace tests out her new buoyancy, rising above them and gazing down. It’s a whole new perspective. She can see the entire hotel. Edie and Alessandra are at the front desk. Alessandra is on the phone; Edie is checking in some guests. Zeke rolls a luggage trolley by and winks at Edie. Raoul is out front at the bell desk dealing with a guest who is checking in with an exotic bird, a hyacinth macaw. （Has word gotten out that although pets are technically forbidden at the hotel, exceptions will be made?） In the yoga studio, Grace watches Yolanda lead a class of perimenopausal women in a butterfly stretch. Over at the Blue Bar, Petey Casstevens is pressing fresh juices and refilling her garnishes. Beatriz is piping béchamel sauce into warm, airy gougères fresh from the oven. Octavia and Neves are cleaning room 108, and sure enough, Neves finds a pair of men’s boxers draped over the telephone, which makes Neves grimace and Octavia giggle. Chad and the new cleaner, Doris, are wheeling their housekeeping cart down the second-floor corridor. They stop at the brass porthole windows because it’s their day to be polished. Chad squirts solution onto a rag and starts buffing, and Grace thinks, That’s right, Long Shot, show her how it’s done! Doris isn’t quite the cleaner she thinks she is.
Doris says, “So Mr. Darling put the hotel on the market because Magda turned down his proposal?”
“Yes,” Chad says. “But that needs to stay our secret.”
And mine, Grace thinks.
At that very minute, Magda is in the housekeeping office on the phone with her accountants. Edie’s mother, Love, and Adam are walking up the front stairs; it’s time for the shift change.
“Welcome to the Hotel Na-antucket!” Adam sings out when he steps through the doors.
Grace goes a little higher and finds she can check in on other people she knows. Bibi Evans is sitting in her criminal justice class at UMass Dartmouth; she has her hair in a cute ponytail and tied around the elastic is what looks like…a black-and-gold Fendi scarf. （Grace gasps. It’s either the scarf stolen from Mrs. Daley’s suitcase or it’s a knockoff Bibi bought from a vendor on Newbury Street. Grace chooses to believe the latter.）
Grace ascends a little higher, and New York City comes into view. What a hive of activity! But even with all the action, Grace easily homes in on the Upper East Side. She sees Louie in a classic-six prewar apartment on Park Avenue. He’s taking a chess lesson from a grand master. Grace finds Wanda walking Doug around the Reservoir in Central Park. Doug is still sensitive to supernatural disturbances; he stops in his tracks and lifts his bucket head to the sky. Grace can almost read his mind: You again? Here? Kimber is strolling a few paces behind Wanda, talking on her phone, and Grace worries that Kimber has fallen back into her laissez-faire ways of parenting—but then Grace realizes that Kimber is trying to retain an attorney for Richie.
Standing by her man! Grace likes it.