Hey there, Lizbet, Grace thinks. I’m Grace. Welcome to the Hotel Nantucket.
4. Help Wanted
Lizbet sets aside the third week of April to conduct her final round of staff interviews. She placed ads in the Nantucket Standard, the Cape Cod Times, and the Boston Globe and on Monster, ZipRecruiter, and Hcareers, but the pool of applicants wasn’t as large as she’d hoped. Lizbet checked her junk folder but found nothing except e-mails from FarmersOnly.com （once, at a low point post-breakup from JJ, she’d made the mistake of visiting their website）。
Lizbet doesn’t mention the disappointing response to Xavier because day-to-day operations are her responsibility. She should be relieved she isn’t inundated with college kids whose grandmothers will inevitably die the second Saturday in August. She doesn’t need a lot of people; she needs the right people.
Grace is wearing her new robe and, to replace her frilled cap, the Minnesota Twins hat that she casually disappeared from Lizbet’s gym bag a few days ago. She perches on the highest shelf in Lizbet’s office, which gives her an excellent vantage point for seeing the candidates. Grace vividly remembers her own hiring in the spring of 1922. There were at least forty girls shepherded into the ballroom of the hotel, and each one was handed a rag. Mrs. Wilkes, head of housekeeping, had inspected each girl’s technique as she dusted the wainscoting and the round oak banquet tables. Grace suspects Mrs. Wilkes had also been noting appearances, because it was mostly the pretty girls who were chosen; the ugly girls were sent home.
Lawsuits, Grace thinks now with a chuckle.
Grace peers over Lizbet’s shoulder at the short stack of résumés on the desk. The first candidate is a twenty-two-year-old Nantucket resident named Edith Robbins who has applied for a front-desk position. Lizbet opens the door to her office and invites Edith—a young woman with luminous brown skin who’s wearing a pencil skirt and kitten heels—to take a seat.
“Sweet Edie!” Lizbet says. “I can’t get over how grown up you are! I remember your mom and dad bringing you to the Deck on your birthday.”
Sweet Edie beams. “Every year.”
“How’s your mom doing? I haven’t seen her since your dad’s funeral.”
“She’s working full-time at Flowers on Chestnut and she took my dad’s spot in the Rotary Club,” Edie says. “So she’s keeping busy.”
“Please tell her I said hello. Now, I realize you’re the child of two seasoned hospitality professionals, but I have to ask—didn’t your mom want you to work at the Beach Club?”
“She did,” Edie says. “But I thought this would be the more exciting opportunity. Everyone on the island is talking about this place.”
“Oh, really? What are they saying?”
Edie gives Lizbet what might be called an uneasy smile. What are they saying? Grace wonders. Is anyone talking about her?
“Your résumé is impressive!” Lizbet says. “You graduated from the school of hotel administration at Cornell, where you were a Statler Fellow. You were number one in your class!”
Of course she was! Grace thinks. Look at her!
“In your opinion,” Lizbet says, “what’s the most important aspect of hospitality?”
“Making a genuine connection with each guest from minute one,” Edie says. “A warm greeting and a smile—‘We’re happy you’re here. Let us help you have a wonderful stay.’”
“Great answer,” Lizbet says. “It states here that you worked at the Statler Hotel on Cornell’s campus and then, last summer, at Castle Hill in Newport?”
“Yes, my boyfriend and I worked at Castle Hill together. That property is a-maze-ing!”
Lizbet’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is your boyfriend here for the summer? Because I’m still looking for—”
“We broke up right after graduation,” Edie says.
Grace can’t imagine what kind of fool would break up with this captivating young woman.
“We both got offers from the Ritz-Carlton management-training program,” Edie says. “But I wanted to spend the summer on Nantucket with my mom. Graydon asked if he could come and I said no. I wanted to start my adult life as an independent woman.”
Good for you, Grace thinks. She would have wanted to be an independent woman back in the day if that had been a thing.
“I’d love to offer you a spot on our front desk,” Lizbet says. “Your starting wage will be twenty-five dollars an hour.”