Thank you for your continued hard work.
XD
Edie is in the break room with Zeke when the Venmo alert comes into her phone, so she ignores it. She and Zeke have become friendly and Edie isn’t going to let anything interrupt their bonding time. She spent all of her awkward freshman year of high school and at least half of her slightly less awkward sophomore year stalking Zeke English both in person and online, so the fact that they are now sitting next to each other at the Formica counter eating ice cream with their thighs practically touching is nothing short of miraculous to Edie in a long-delayed-dream kind of way.
Zeke says exactly what Edie is thinking. “I can’t believe Alessandra won the money again this week. It’s starting to feel like a setup.”
Edie makes a noncommittal murmuring noise, though what she wants to do is emphatically agree. Something must be up with Alessandra. She’s good on the desk, no question, but she doesn’t go the extra mile the way Edie does. If a guest requests an extra pillow or towel or a second container of the smoked bluefish paté, Edie zips directly up to the room and hands it over with a bright （and sincere） smile. She has learned the first names of everyone who answers the phone at Cru in order to secure hotel guests what is, for most people, an impossible reservation. She even went so far as to buy the little boy staying in room 302 a lighthouse key chain from the Hub because he was obsessed with Brant Point Light. Edie used her own money （of which she has very little）， not the hotel’s petty cash, which is what Alessandra uses to buy herself lunch. （Petty cash is not to be used for their personal expenses, Lizbet has told them multiple times, and yet Edie says nothing to anyone because she loathes a tattletale.） Then there are the Marsh children. Edie helped Wanda write an article about the “ghost,” and when Wanda grew emotional and asked why nobody had saved Grace Hadley, Edie gave her a hug and said that was a long time ago, before there were smoke detectors. Edie also found Louie a chess instructor—a housepainter named Rustam who had been a chess champion back in Uzbekistan.
Edie would like to ask Kimber to write a TravelTattler review—Kimber would surely mention Edie—but she can’t bring herself to campaign on her own behalf.
Alessandra has won the bonus three weeks in a row. This is a side stitch that stays with Edie through all her working hours. It’s cathartic to hear that it bugs Zeke as well.
“Do Adam and Raoul ever tell you what it’s like to live with her?” Edie asks.
Zeke rolls his eyes. “Adam says she hardly ever sleeps there.”
“What?” Edie says.
“She rolls in at five or six in the morning when Raoul is getting up to exercise,” Zeke says. “She’s out on the prowl, I guess.”
Edie isn’t surprised to hear this—Alessandra exudes a discreet but undeniable sexuality—but she won’t take part in any slut-shaming. If anything, Edie feels freshly hurt that Alessandra has chosen to confide exactly nothing in her even though they work side by side all day long. Alessandra is always civil but never friendly or warm. Why?
Beneath Alessandra’s polished facade is something else, Edie thinks. A broken doll, a smashed mirror. Alessandra is damaged. Or maybe Edie is just making excuses for her. Graydon used to tell Edie she should stop giving other people so much credit.
Zeke finishes his ice cream and stands up. “I’m heading home.” He gives Edie his slow, beautiful smile. “I think we should start spying on Alessandra to figure out how she’s winning the money.”
Start spying on her? Edie thinks. Are they back in middle school? The idea, however, is not without its appeal. Edie likes the thought of having a little conspiracy going with Zeke.
“I’ll see what I can find out,” Edie says, though she knows she will find out nothing. Alessandra is all zippered up.
“Here, take my number,” Zeke says. He picks up Edie’s phone. “Someone named Graydon has requested a five-hundred-dollar Venmo,” he says. He grins at Edie. “Who’s Graydon? Your bookie?”
Edie wants to snatch the phone from his hand, but she just laughs. “Something like that.” She watches Zeke type his number into her phone, but the thrill that should accompany getting Zeke English’s cell phone number is missing. When Zeke hands back her phone, Edie sees the Venmo request, and her face burns with shame. She has no right to judge Alessandra. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See ya,” Zeke says, and he leaves her sitting with what is now a bowl of cold chocolate soup.