Holding hands? And then it clicks.
You know why Yolanda is always in the kitchen, right? Zeke said.
And why she was always with the Blue Bar staff on Tuesdays and why she asked for Tuesdays off in the first place and why Mario was so openly affectionate with Yolanda. It occurs to Lizbet that maybe the “thing” Yolanda needed Mario’s help with was the surprise the kitchen staff arranged for Beatriz’s birthday: they all chipped in and flew Beatriz’s mother from Mexico City to Nantucket.
“Are you okay?” JJ asks, following Lizbet’s gaze over his shoulder.
The reason Yolanda is always hanging out in the kitchen isn’t Mario; it’s Beatriz. “Take my trout home,” she says. “I have to go.”
She hurries down the brick sidewalks of India to Water Street, moving as fast as she can in her wedges, thinking, It’s Tuesday, his day off, he’ll be out somewhere or entertaining another woman; he’s Mario freaking Subiaco, for God’s sake. But Lizbet keeps going. She takes a left down the white-shell path behind Old North Wharf and sees Mario’s silver truck.
He’s home.
This nearly propels Lizbet back to Proprietors, back to JJ and safety. (It’s ludicrous that she considers JJ safe after what he did to her; familiar might be a better word.) But every inspirational meme that Lizbet has stuffed inside her hollow places like a girl desperately padding her bra tells her to move forward.
Not on fighting the old.
But on building the new.
She strides out the long dock without wobbling or faltering and when she reaches the door, she takes a breath and acknowledges that this could be a very awkward moment.
But she knocks anyway.
There are footsteps, then a pause, and then Mario opens the door. He’s wearing gym shorts, a gray T-shirt, his White Sox cap on backward. He’s so handsome that Lizbet steadies herself against the shingled wall of the cottage. She peers over his shoulder. There’s a beer on the table, an open pizza box, one plate.
Does he seem surprised to see her? Not really. He leans into the door frame and gives her his slow half-smile.
“Hey, Heartbreaker,” he says.
“Hey,” she whispers.
21. The Cobblestone Telegraph
When deep August arrives, a certain melancholy sets in, the kind people get on a Sunday afternoon. The summer, which seemed so endless back in June, will be over in a few short weeks.
Some of us are already saying goodbye. One of our local authors cries into the front of her son’s T-shirt as she hugs him at the ferry; he’s headed back to the University of South Carolina (a school that has been popular with kids from Nantucket High School ever since Link Dooley went there). Later that night, the local author is seen at the Blue Bar with her entourage, drinking a Heartbreaker. “Why do schools go back so early now?” she asks. “When we were kids, the first day of school was the Tuesday after Labor Day.”
Yes, certain among us remember our parents rushing us into Murray’s Toggery on the Saturday of Labor Day weekend so that we could get new school shoes. Then it was off to Joe the barber or Claire at the beauty salon, who would give us fresh haircuts and sweep our sun-bleached locks up off the floor. Blond Sharon holds dear the memory of her parents, who always booked the last ferry off the island on Labor Day itself—then Sharon’s father would drive through the dark hours back to Connecticut. Sharon and her sister, Heather, would start school in the morning, often with sand still trapped in the whorls of their ears. “We were tired but we never complained,” Sharon says. “Because we wanted to squeeze every second out of the summer.”
Nearly all Nantucketers agree with this sentiment and we bristle when people try to jump the season. Jill Tananbaum sees an Instagram post of a pumpkin-spice latte in her feed on August 18—and she immediately unfollows.
A rumor goes around that Lizbet Keaton and JJ O’Malley were seen eating together at the bar at Proprietors. They were huddled close, according to sources, and appeared to be having a very intense conversation. Were they reuniting? Some of us hoped yes—Lizbet was needed back at the Deck pronto; the quality of the experience had slipped significantly—but a day or two later, these hopes were dashed when we heard that Lizbet and Mario Subiaco were dating again. Tracy Toland and Karl Grabowski, two of our favorite summer visitors (and newlyweds to boot!), were eating dinner on the deck at the Straight Wharf and, in the moonlight, they caught sight of Lizbet and Mario kissing on the front porch of the little cottage that sat by itself out in the harbor.
The reuniting of Lizbet and Chef Subiaco is confirmed on the third Saturday of August when they attend our favorite charity benefit of the season together: the Summer Groove, which raises money for the Nantucket Boys and Girls Club. Lizbet is wearing a lilac silk dress, and her blond hair is styled in a braid crown; Mario wears a navy blazer and a matching lilac tie. They hold hands all night; they drift over to the raw bar, where Mario doctors cherrystone clams with lemon and cocktail sauce and oysters with mignonette before handing them to Lizbet. They accept hors d’oeuvres from silver trays even though the offerings at this party aren’t quite as ambrosial as what we’ve been eating all summer at the Blue Bar. (The bakery box has spoiled us.) It turns out that Lizbet and Chef Subiaco have donated one of the auction items for the event—a three-night stay at the Hotel Nantucket for the following summer, plus a “chef’s tasting” for two (with cocktails!) at the Blue Bar.
There are numerous competing bidders, all of them seemingly relentless, and the item goes for thirty-five thousand dollars. People in the tent go crazy!
It is, however, a bit awkward when the next auction item is announced: Dinner for ten at the Deck, including signature stemless wineglasses for the rosé fountain. In years past, this item garnered the highest bid, but tonight, only one hand is raised; it belongs to Janice, the dental hygienist whose brother, Goose, is the Deck’s sommelier. Janice accidentally bids against herself (she’s had a lot of wine), but even so, she wins the package for twenty-five hundred dollars, which is less than the package is actually worth.
Discreetly, we look around the tent, searching for JJ, and are relieved to discover he’s not in attendance.
The Summer Groove is not only the best charity event of the summer, it’s also the final one. When we wake up the next morning, our spirits sag. All we have to look forward to now are the “lasts.” The last great beach days, the last lobster omelet–and–Whispering Angel lunch at the Galley, the last stroll over the sundial bridge in Sconset, the last chance to surf-cast in Miacomet, the last long afternoon drinking Gripah at Cisco Brewers, the last of the zucchini and corn at Bartlett’s Farm (tomatoes will go strong into September and—eek!—are those pumpkins we see?). We can squeeze in one more boat ride up the harbor to watch the kiteboarders, check out one more juicy summer novel from the Atheneum, and eat one more fish sandwich at the Oystercatcher while the sun sets over the water and guitarist Sean Lee sings that it’s hard to get by just upon a smile.
But then Romeo at the Steamship Authority reports that some really rich dude is sending a Bentley over on the ferry with a chauffeur, and not only that but this same dude is flying in from London on his G5.
“He’ll be here Wednesday,” Romeo says.
Who could it be? we wonder. And then we realize: It’s Xavier Darling.
22. Cedar and Salt
August 22, 2022
From: Xavier Darling ([email protected])
To: Employees of the Hotel Nantucket
Greetings, all, good morning—
Although I am busy preparing for my trip across the pond, I have not forgotten about this week’s bonus. I’m pleased to announce Edith Robbins as our winner. One heartfelt letter described the myriad ways that Edith went above and beyond during a family’s extended stay. Wonderful job, Edith!