Wanda wandered the hotel freely as well. She always had a Nancy Drew mystery in her hand—she was working her way through them in chronological order, though her mother had only bought her up to number twelve, The Message in the Hollow Oak, and she was already on number nine, The Sign of the Twisted Candles, so she would soon be out of books. Wanda had also started carrying a spiral notebook and a number-two pencil because she wanted to write her own mystery novel starring girl sleuth Wanda Marsh. She was constantly asking people, staff and guests alike, if they had noticed anything strange or secret around the hotel, but the only mystery she’d learned of was the Case of the Disappearing Almond Croissants. It was unusual how rapidly Beatriz’s croissants, filled with almond-flavored marzipan, vanished from the continental breakfast, and why didn’t the kitchen ever make a second batch?
Unlike her children, Kimber Marsh was having a difficult time settling in. Back on the third night of their stay, Kimber had wandered down to the lobby at one in the morning. Lizbet was on the night desk.
“I suffer from chronic insomnia,” Kimber said.
Lizbet nearly asked if they could switch places: Kimber could watch the desk and Lizbet would go to suite 114 and sleep in the emperor-size bed.
Kimber poured herself a giant cup of coffee—coffee?—and leaned against the desk to have a chat. Fine, good, Lizbet thought. It would keep her awake for her remaining hour.
Kimber said, “My husband left me for our nanny, whom he has now impregnated—and let me tell you, that was a wake-up call.”
Yes, you told me, Lizbet thought. She’d had a wake-up call of her own, though she didn’t want to tell Kimber Marsh about her breakup with JJ. She was so tired, she was sure she’d start to cry.
“I’m going to use this summer to reconnect with my kids,” Kimber said. “I traveled so often for work, I barely saw them. They were always with Jenny, our nanny. Honestly, it’s no wonder Craig left me for her. I was never around, so she slotted herself right into my vacant place and became not only a substitute mom but a substitute wife.” Kimber leaned in. “That’s why the kids are so consumed with the reading and the chess—something was missing from their little lives, and that something was me.” Kimber sipped her coffee and reached for a copy of the Blue Book sitting on the desk. “Starting tomorrow, I’m going to do better. I’m going to do all the suggested itineraries in this guidebook.”
The following day, Thursday, Kimber and the kids took Doug to Tupancy Links for a long walk, then they went to Barnaby’s Place to do an art project, had lunch at Something Natural, and spent the afternoon on Children’s Beach. But on Friday, Kimber plopped herself under an umbrella by the pool and read while Louie played chess in the lobby and Wanda interviewed hotel guests and Zeke took Doug out to do his business. On Saturday, Kimber didn’t come down from her room until late afternoon. When she did, she had her laptop with her; she announced she was going to sit in the lobby and write her memoirs. Okay? Lizbet thought. At least Kimber could keep an eye on Wanda, who was finishing the last Nancy Drew mystery she had, and Louie, who was playing chess against himself. But Lizbet felt dismayed that the Marsh family had spent the entire day inside. Late-June days on Nantucket were the gold standard for the season—blue skies, plentiful sunshine, lilacs and cherry blossoms, and without the overbearing heat and humidity of July and August. But Sunday morning, Kimber rebounded and took the kids strawberry picking at Bartlett’s Farm. When they came back, Wanda walked into the lobby proudly holding an overflowing quart of luridly red fruit. While Lizbet was pleased they had gotten out, she couldn’t help thinking about the pristine white linens on the beds and the Annie Selke rug, so she offered to wash the strawberries and let the children eat them over soft-serve vanilla ice cream in the break room.
Both Wanda and Louie had been gobsmacked by the ice cream machine.
“I want to work here when I grow up,” Wanda announced.
Then, at a quarter past ten on Sunday evening—when Lizbet was fading fast; she’d worked double shifts for seven straight days—Kimber Marsh came flying into the lobby in what Lizbet’s mother would have called “a dither.”
Wanda wasn’t in her bed, she said. “Have you seen Wanda?” Kimber practically screamed. “Have you seen her?”
“I haven’t,” Lizbet said. She did a sweep of the lobby, checking Wanda’s favorite reading chair and under the piano, where （inexplicably） Wanda sometimes liked to read, then said, “Let me look in the break room.” （The allure of the soft-serve machine was strong; Lizbet had to fight it herself each and every day.）