THE WORST of the hurricane struck us in the night. The winds roared, the shutters banged, the doors shook in their frames.

LYING IN BED, waiting for the storm to strike, I was struck again by the astonishing discovery that there really is no fool like an old fool, and by the more astonishing discovery that I had become one — not so much because I was willing to sell without making a profit, but because I had bought something that I couldn’t even sell at a loss.

THE CISTERN was empty. There had to be a leak somewhere. It would have to be fixed, but that would have to wait until the storm had passed. . . .

I STOOD AT THE WINDOW of my workroom, looking down into the courtyard behind the hotel. It faces southeast, so it catches the sun in the morning, preserving an isolated bit of summer well into fall. Louise and Miranda were out there, taking a break from their kitchen work, sunning themselves, naked. . . .

ESTHER SAID, “I loved that bit about ‘I’m pregnant and it didn’t even wake me up.’ “Uh-oh,” said Otto, “I think the conversation is going to take one of those anti-male turns.” . . .

I SPENT the rest of the day doing the hundred little chores that consume an assistant innkeeper’s day at a failing hotel, chores that leave no visible sign of their having been done, but which if left undone scream, “Look at me, look at me! Fix me, clean me, mend me!” In the evening, I read the twenty-second episode of Dead Air, “No Sale.”

HAVING IMAGINED Rockwell Kingman, I seemed to be stuck with him, and he was becoming annoying. He wouldn’t dance to my tune.

WHEN I CAME TO BED, Albertine was reading, quite openly, the latest issue of Manhattan magazine. “Listen to this,” she said. “It’s my horoscope: . . .

I USED TO ENJOY Mondays on the island. The weekend guests would be gone, and everyone who remained — guests, staff, owners — would feel liberated by their departure, enough to be lazy all day, figuring that there were four more before the next weekend arrived. That was in the days before the dredging, of course, and in the days when I still expected the hotel to succeed eventually.

I EXPECTED the dredge to be gone when I walked out onto the porch. It wasn’t. I think I was relieved, but I was also disappointed, and although I am not quite certain about my being relieved, I am quite certain about my being disappointed.