Lizbet’s outlook has improved since Richie started working nights. Lizbet now leaves the hotel at five thirty, fits in a run or a ride on her Peloton, makes herself some dinner （she’s so tired, she can usually only manage a tuna fish sandwich or ramen noodles）， then takes her laptop to bed with the intention of catching up on current events or bingeing a show so that she has something to chat with the guests about, but most nights, she falls asleep within five minutes of getting in bed.
Lizbet hasn’t been out anywhere socially since she and JJ broke up, and now that she’s finally ready, invitations are lacking. She’d thought that she and Heidi Bick had semi-confirmed plans on the eighteenth, but when Lizbet texted to definitively confirm, Heidi canceled. She said she needed “couple time” with Michael. Being ditched for someone else’s couple time made Lizbet feel like a lonesome loser. Lizbet has other friends, but unfortunately, they’re all tethered in one way or another to the Deck, and Lizbet doesn’t feel she can reach out lest it seem like she’s poaching from JJ’s territory or, worse still, desperate. Again, she’s hurt that Goose and Wavy and Peyton all seem to have abandoned her or “chosen” JJ like they’re children in a divorce. Not only does Lizbet miss them but she would like to know how things are going without her. Who has JJ put on the reservation book? Probably Peyton—she’s the most capable and would have been Lizbet’s choice if anyone had asked, which of course no one did.
It’s bright and early on the first of July—there’s something fresh and optimistic about the first of the month, and Lizbet has high hopes for occupancy at the hotel picking up. Edie pokes her head into Lizbet’s office and says, “There’s a woman out front who would like to speak with you.”
Lizbet jumps to her feet, ever mindful that Shelly Carpenter could appear at any moment. It’s the Fourth of July week, which is traditionally crazy busy, and it’s common knowledge that Shelly Carpenter tends to show up at hotels during stressful or extraordinary times.
But Lizbet’s spirits flag when she sees it’s Mrs. Amesbury. There is no universe where Mrs. Amesbury is actually Shelly Carpenter. Mrs. Amesbury came to complain to Lizbet the day before because cute Mrs. Damiani was breastfeeding her infant son in the lobby and Mrs. Amesbury found it distasteful.
“How can I help you, Mrs. Amesbury?” Lizbet asks. It nearly hurts, but Lizbet manages to smile. Mr. Amesbury—he’s the kind of husband who carries his wife’s handbag—is standing behind Mrs. Amesbury just as he was yesterday when Mrs. Amesbury complained about the breastfeeding.
Mrs. Amesbury holds out the Blue Book; it’s open to the restaurant section. “This has a glaring error.”
“Error?” Lizbet says, growing warm with panic. The Blue Book is her pet project. She double-checked all addresses, phone numbers, hours of operation, websites, and other pertinent details such as dress code, price range, and reservation protocol. She’s very proud of the book and has actually considered submitting it to a mainstream publisher. The world needs a Nantucket guidebook written by an island insider. “What kind of error?”
“The Deck isn’t in here!” Mrs. Amesbury says. “It’s the most important and successful restaurant on the entire island and you forgot to include it!”
Lizbet blinks. She can’t pretend to feel surprised, because she knew this moment would come. Lizbet didn’t forget the Deck; she purposely left it out. It might seem like a startling omission, but Lizbet doesn’t care. There was no way she was putting JJ’s restaurant in the Blue Book.
Lizbet says, “I’m aware it’s not included, Mrs. Amesbury. I wanted to showcase the island’s other restaurants, ones you might not be familiar with. Have you ever eaten at Or, The Whale? What about Straight Wharf?”
“We’d like to eat at the Deck,” Mrs. Amesbury says. “On the evening of the Fourth.”
“Ah,” Lizbet says. The Deck is magical on the Fourth of July. Not only does JJ throw down a pig roast with family-style sides of baked beans, pickled chowchow, corn bread, and potato salad, but guests can enjoy a view of the fireworks across the harbor. Last year, Lizbet hired a bluegrass band and people danced until midnight. “The Deck probably sold out for that evening weeks ago.”
“I’d like you to check for me, please,” Mrs. Amesbury says.
“Have you ever eaten at the Tap Room?” Lizbet lowers her voice. “They have a secret Big Mac that’s not on the menu.”