Alessandra leaves her duffels on the front porch and leads Edie inside, which is its own kind of jackpot because who doesn’t want to see the place where her coworkers live, especially when it’s 23 Hooper Farm Road. According to Edie’s mother, this house has been the rental for a colorful cast of Nantucket characters over the years. For a number of summers, servers from the Blue Bistro lived here, and after that, a group of pilots for Cape Air, and after that, girls who worked on a high-end landscaping crew, one of whom was dating the bassist for the Dropkick Murphys.
But if Edie is expecting holes punched in the walls by jealous boyfriends or scorch marks from a fondue party gone bad, she’s disappointed. The living room is dominated by Raoul’s workout equipment, the kitchen has a peeling linoleum floor, and there’s a short, dim hallway that must lead to the bedrooms. Alessandra takes Edie out the back door to a secluded yard, where the kitchen table sits atop a lawn that has just been cut (probably by Raoul). There are white fairy lights strung through the overarching branches of a big shade tree.
Alessandra takes a seat at the table and Edie sits next to her, thinking, I’m going to have to beg her to stay, and how twisted is that?
“You blackmailed that woman’s husband!” Edie says. She’s proud of herself for not completely buckling.
“I did,” Alessandra says. “In my defense—and, honestly, Edie, there is no defense for what I did—Michael told me he and his wife were taking time apart, so I thought it was open season.” She shakes her head. “I figured out he was lying pretty much right away but that was his sin, not mine. And then, when his wife was about to arrive for the summer, I had…bargaining power, and I cashed in on it.”
Edie blinks. “And then you planted stuff from the neighbors’ house?”
Alessandra sighs. “I did. At that point, it was like a game. I took her eye shadow, her shoes…that was probably good enough. I knew Michael would never realize that his wife wore Bobbi Brown and the neighbor wore Chanel or that his wife wore a size eight and the neighbor a size six. But then I found a positive pregnancy test in their bathroom trash, so I threw that gasoline on the fire.”
“Gah!”
Alessandra touches Edie’s arm. “This is why I didn’t want us to be friends. I’m a horrible person. I’m ruined and rotten straight through.”
Now it makes sense. Edie should not be friends with Alessandra. She should not look up to her at all. But even now, at this low moment, Alessandra has effortless style. Her hair is back in a ponytail, her makeup from that morning has faded, the eye crystals have fallen off, but even so, she looks chic in a pair of faded jeans, an old Dave Matthews T-shirt (the Shoreline Amphitheater, 2000, before Edie was even born), and the one gold bangle Edie knows will never come off, the Cartier love bracelet. Someone had once cared enough about Alessandra to give her that.
“Then I started sleeping with guests at the hotel in exchange for them mentioning me in their reviews.” Alessandra leans forward and slaps her palms on the table. “That’s how I won the four grand. I prostituted myself for it. I was trying to get the money and I only stopped because…”
“Because you realized someone else should have a chance to win the money?”
Alessandra scoffs. “No! I stopped because of that douchebag with the Corvette Stingray in three ten—remember him?”
“Ugh,” Edie says. “Yes.”
“He took me to dinner at Topper’s,” Alessandra says. “Talked all about himself, but whatever, I wasn’t there for the conversation. Then when we got back to the hotel, he shoved me onto the bed, ripped up my dress, and pinned me down. He would have raped me if I hadn’t thrown him off.”
“Oh my God,” Edie says. “I can’t believe you threw him off you. That dude was all muscle.”
“As bad as that experience was, it was also a wake-up call. I stopped targeting men and just focused on doing my job.” She pauses. “But then when Xavier showed up, I thought, He’s wealthy and single, why not go after him?”
“Ew,” Edie says. “He’s, like, seventy years old.”
“Didn’t matter, he wasn’t interested in me. So I texted Michael those photos I’d been saving in case of emergency.” She gives Edie a direct gaze. “I wouldn’t blame you if you never spoke to me again. I knew you’d been on the other side of that, and I did it anyway.”
“Yeah,” Edie whispers.
“I didn’t have parents like yours growing up,” Alessandra says. “Parents who led by example and showed me how to do things correctly. I didn’t grow up in a nurturing community where everyone called me ‘Sweet Alessandra’ and had my back. I mean, that’s no excuse, I know right from wrong and I consistently choose wrong. Heidi Bick should press charges, she should want to see me fired—”
“She’s not doing any of that,” Edie says. “As long as you stay away from them.”
“I will,” Alessandra says. She gives Edie a weary smile. “Sometimes I wish men weren’t so predictable.”
It’s this statement more than anything else that illustrates their age difference, Edie thinks. Men are predictable to Alessandra, but to Edie, they’re still a mystery.
“I want you to stay,” Edie says. “I’m upset about what you did, but I can’t bear to think of finishing up the season without you. Who would I complain to about Mr. Ianucci?”
“Ianucci,” Alessandra says. “I’m telling you, that guy’s a cop.”
Edie grins. “I thought he was Shelly Carpenter.”
“The post comes out tomorrow.”
“Another reason why you have to stay,” Edie says. “You have to.”
“Okay,” Alessandra says. Her eyes mist up. “Thank you for…I don’t know, showing up here, being tough but cool.” The corners of her mouth lift a bit. “I raised you well.”
Edie pulls the manila envelope out of her backpack. “I’m giving you your money back, by the way.”
“No!” Alessandra says. “I cheated. It’s yours.”
“You’re great on the desk,” Edie says. “It’s yours.”
“I’m not taking it back, Edie. I don’t deserve it.”
Edie pulls the cash out and riffles the bills. “How about we split it, then?”
Alessandra releases a breath. “Fine.”
Fine. Edie counts out two thousand dollars and slides it toward her friend. She thinks about her little spy club with Zeke and wonders if she has any obligation to tell him about this.
She decides not. It’s a desk thing.
25. The Last Friday of the Month: August
Lizbet and Edie are in Lizbet’s office at 11:58—and at 11:59, Lizbet taps on her Instagram icon. As soon as her phone says noon, she visits the Hotel Confidential account and refreshes, but all she sees is the review from the Sea Castle Bed-and-Breakfast in Hyannis Port.
“Come on, Shelly,” Lizbet says. She turns to Edie. “Has she ever been late before?”
“Hit refresh again,” Edie says.
Lizbet inhales, then hits the refresh button.
On her screen is a picture of Zeke and Adam, framed inside the grand front doors, both of them waving and smiling; Lizbet sees the potted flowers on the steps and one wide rocker and fireplace table on the front porch. She blinks. This is real? This is their hotel? Those are their bellmen? Because it feels like a figment of Lizbet’s imagination. A manifestation.
Edie, who is holding her own phone, shrieks—and Lizbet reads the caption.
She leaps out of her chair and grabs Edie and the two of them dance around the office. Lizbet’s eyes blur with tears; she can’t believe it, and yet she knew, she knew they would do it. In her heart, she knew. She used to think that meeting JJ and running the Deck was her dream come true—but no, it’s this. This is what she was meant to do.
“We did it!” Edie shouts. “We! Did! It!”
Adam and Zeke come running in; Adam is on the phone with Raoul, who has just seen the review at home. Alessandra slips in and Lizbet gives her a hug, because any way you look at it, they couldn’t have gotten five keys without her. Lizbet texts Mario: FIVE KEYS!!!!
Adam says, “Has anyone read the actual review yet?”
“No!” Edie says. “Let’s all do it at the same time. One, two, three—”
“Wait, I’m not ready,” Adam says. He scrolls. “Okay, go!”
They click on the link.
Hotel Confidential by Shelly Carpenter
August 26, 2022
The Hotel Nantucket, Nantucket, Massachusetts
—5 KEYS