by Shirley Jump
Once upon a time, Bridget had thought she would work here until she died, side by side with her grandmother, her sisters, and her mother. Baking pies and frosting cakes and sifting flour into clouds. But then Gramma had died, and Bridget had met Jim and—
Everything had changed.
Bridget had taken a job writing a food column for a local paper, but it wasn’t the same as working here. Not at all.
The small silver bell that had once sat on a shelf in Gramma’s hutch tinkled as Bridget opened the door and stepped inside. Nora looked up from the tiered cupcake display she was refilling, and her brows lifted in surprise.
For a second, Bridget expected to see Abby behind the counter. But Abby had quit the family—and quit the bakery. She was working at a Williams-Sonoma at the mall, the last Bridget had heard. She used to think Abby was her best friend, but the scene on her wedding day and the ensuing three years of silence said differently.
All these years, she had kept Abby’s secret from the rest of the family. And in doing so, she’d lost her sisters. Lost the bond she used to have.
For what? For a marriage that had been fractured for a long time. A marriage Bridget had once vowed to do anything to repair.
“Bridget? What are you doing here?” Nora asked.
“I…I don’t know.” It was one of the most honest things she’d said in days. All those hours of pretending she was okay, that she wasn’t feeling lost and alone and scared. Hell, she’d been feeling that way for years, but she’d told herself that planting some flowers and getting pregnant would set her world to rights again. Would prove something. To herself, to her family.
“Uh, okay.” Nora dusted off her hands and slid the empty tray onto the counter behind her. She looked unsure of what to say, how to act, without the buffer of a funeral and Netflix playing in the background. “Uh, can I get you anything?”
A giant rewind button for my life. “Coffee?”
Nora nodded, her face slackening with relief at having something to do, something to put off the awkward conversation for another moment. She disappeared into the back, returning a moment later with two steaming mugs of rich, dark coffee. “Here.” She gestured toward one of the bistro tables at the front of the shop. “Let’s…let’s, uh, sit for a minute. If you want to.”
Now that Bridget was here, she wanted to leave, forget she’d ever walked inside. But where was she going to go? Back to the church? Hell no (and that thought made her whip through a quick mental Hail Mary just in case). Back home? Her house was a mile away, walkable, even in these ugly, sensible shoes, but no. She couldn’t walk back into that empty space again because if she did, she’d curl up in that bed and never leave again. As much as she’d hated going to church, she had to admit her mother was right—she needed to get out of that house.
Move forward. Focus on the future. Somehow.
“Why are you here?” Nora said.
Bridget didn’t want to say the truth, because she wasn’t quite sure what the truth was, so instead she said the first thing that popped into her head. “I was thinking I should get a cat.”
Nora arched a brow and took a sip of coffee before she spoke. That was how Nora worked—she thought about her words before she said them. She was the least chatty of the three O’Bannon girls, and the most serious one. Ma called Nora the umbrella of the family, because she was practical and dependable and the calm one in the midst of any family storm. “A cat? Okay. Sounds…good.”
“Should I get two?” Nonsense words poured out of Bridget like a leaky tap, filling the too-sweet air in the shop and the empty cavern in her heart and all those questions about tomorrow that she couldn’t bring herself to answer. “You know, in case one of them gets…lonely? I don’t think I could stand to hear one of them crying because it was all…a-alone.” Then her voice broke and the river of words jerked to a stop.
Nora covered Bridget’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Ma made you go to church, didn’t she?”
Bridget nodded. She almost cried, thinking how good it was that Nora hadn’t thrown her out, that she had reached out and comforted her, and for five seconds not mentioned Jim. Or said anything about Abby. “How…how can you tell?”
“You’re wearing that dress you hate, topped with a nice little shawl of Catholic guilt.” Nora smiled. “Two cats? Really?”
“I don’t know what else to do. I mean, what am I going to do with all of Jim’s clothes? And the house? Oh, God, Nora, what am I going to do about all that stuff? How am I possibly going to handle it all a-alone?”
Nora’s hand tightened on hers. “First, you’re going to ditch that dress. No, not just ditch it. Fucking burn it in the backyard. It is uglier than hell.”
The curse cut through the air, unexpected from the normally perfect Nora. It seemed to break the tension between them somehow, a crack in the wall. All these years Bridget had spent away from her sisters, her mother, and for just this second, she couldn’t remember why. Didn’t want to remember why.
But in her head, she heard Jim’s voice. Remember how they hurt you, babe. That’s why we were an island, just you and me. Don’t let them get close again.
She wanted to argue back, to tell Jim he wasn’t here anymore and what was she supposed to do about that? That maybe he’d been wrong, and maybe if she hadn’t shut her family out for all those years, this wall between them wouldn’t exist.
Instead, she tugged her hand out of Nora’s and put it in her lap. “I hate this dress. I forgot I even had it in my closet.”
“I swear, Ma has her homing instinct for outfits that make you look like Doris Day on acid,” Nora said. “Remember the polka-dot skirt debacle of 2003?”
That made Bridget laugh again. God, it felt so good to laugh. Just as quickly, a wave of guilt hit her. Jim had just died. His body was hardly cold in the grave. How could she be laughing?
Nora’s hand lit on Bridget’s arm. “It’s okay to laugh and run out of church and eat dessert, Bridge.”
“It doesn’t feel okay.”
“Yeah.” Nora sighed. “Maybe it will. In time.”
Time. Bridget wanted to slow down the hours as much as she wanted them to pass in a blur. She wanted a second to catch her breath, to absorb what had happened, to accept this new normal. At the same time, she wanted to skip ahead to the days when hearing Jim’s name didn’t feel like a knife serrating her lungs.
Until then, Bridget had to do something. For so long, her life had been wrapped around the world she had created with her marriage, and now she wasn’t sure where to step next. This widow world felt like a minefield. “What am I going to do, Nora?”
“I don’t know, Bridge. I honestly don’t know.” Nora drew in a breath and let it out, as steady as a slow leak in a tire. “What do you want to do?”
“Go to bed. And stay there for forty years,” she scoffed. “But then I’ll become like Aunt Esther, and I don’t want to do that.”
A little laugh escaped Nora. “Nobody wants to end up buried by the Globe.”
“I’d at least like to go out under the Herald. Better headlines: ‘Hoarder Hunched under Heap of Heralds.’” The joke made both of them laugh, and the sound lingered inside the shop for a long, sweet moment.
“You know,” Nora began, while tracing a circle in the laminate, “you could try getting back to the life you left. You’re going to need an income and…well, something to do.”
“You mean come back to work here.”
“The door is always open,” Nora said. “And Lord knows I could use the help, with wedding season coming up.”
A wave of guilt washed over Bridget. She’d abandoned the shop, shortly after Abby had quit, and left Nora to run things on her own. Their mother stepped in from time to time, but she was getting older and didn’t have the energy to last all day on her feet in a busy bakery. Nora had taken the reins without complaint, relying on a couple of part-time helpers to get through busy seasons.
There’d been a day, when the sisters
had started working at Charmed by Dessert, when Bridget had been the chief baker. She’d developed a line of pies that got noticed at a Best of Boston competition and, for a while, put Charmed by Dessert on Must-See lists. Bridget had left the recipes behind when she walked away from the shop, but the pies had never been the same, from what she’d heard and read. Business had dipped a little more each year, and there were times when Bridget could read the stress in her mother’s shoulders.
“You had that special touch,” Nora went on. “None of us have ever come close to replicating that.”
Bridget fiddled with the coffee cup. “I think it was luck.”
Nora didn’t say anything. The chef-shaped clock on the wall ticktocked the seconds with a busy wooden spoon. “Do you remember the day you made the chocolate pies?”
The three of them had been together in the kitchen, slipping in and out of each other’s spaces like deftly woven braids. It seemed like they’d always been like that, ever since they were little girls, and even as high schoolers working after school, they’d been a team. Magpie had been too young to do much more than wash dishes, which had left the other three in the kitchen. Abby the director, Nora the planner, Bridget the dreamer. “You know what we need on the menu?” Nora had said. “A really good chocolate pie.”
“One that’s so good, it’s better than sex,” Abby had added in a whisper.
The three of them burst into giggles, and Ma had admonished them from the front of the store to get to work and stop playing around. They’d blushed and giggled some more, their heads together like three peas in a pod.
“I have an idea,” Bridget had said. A vague idea, one that mushroomed into a recipe as she bustled around the kitchen, gathering a little of this, a lot of that. The other girls had drifted away, leaving Bridget to create. Bridget had hardly noticed because the world dropped away when she baked. Her mind was filled with flour and sugar, butter and eggs, cocoa and vanilla. Tastes and scents and measurements and possibilities.
An hour later, she’d opened the oven, pulled out the chocolate base, and then drizzled a layer of salted caramel on top and dropped dollops of fresh marshmallow around the edge. A few seconds with the flambé torch and the marshmallow toasted into gold.
“Your grandmother would be proud,” Ma had said when she’d seen the finished pie, her highest level of praise, offered as rarely as comets. To mark the occasion, she’d flipped the sign to CLOSED, gathered her girls around a table, and dished them each a hearty slice. They’d sat at the table and eaten and laughed until their bellies were full and the sun had disappeared behind the horizon.
“That was a great day,” Nora said softly.
“It was a long time ago,” Bridget said, thinking of all that had been said since then, words that couldn’t be taken back, hurts that couldn’t be bandaged. “I don’t think we can get back there.”
“Maybe not. But you need an income now, and we need the help and—”
“Protecting the bottom line as usual.” Bridget shook her head and cursed. “Of course.”
Nora’s face pinched like a shriveled apple. “This isn’t about money, Bridget. We’re family; we take care of each other.”
“You know why I’m not working here.” Being here every day would mean being around her mother, and Bridget knew that was a war she wasn’t strong enough to battle right now. It would mean dancing that tightrope of I’m just fine. “I just can’t do it. It’s too much on top of everything else.”
“Stop thinking about yourself for five friggin’ seconds, Bridget.” Nora clapped a hand over her mouth and shook her head. Her eyes filled but, in typical Nora fashion, she blinked away the tears. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Bridget shook her head. “You’re still Miss Perfect Nora, judging the rest of us screwups. You never do a damned thing wrong. You have the husband and the kids and the perfect house and you run a bakery and probably manage to make dinner every night, too, while the rest of us are…less.”
“I never said that, Bridget.”
“You didn’t have to. You’re just this”—Bridget waved a hand—“impossible-to-live-up-to Stepford wife. Who seems genuinely surprised that the rest of us aren’t as perfect. I stopped working here because I wanted to. Because I was sick and tired of you and Ma and everyone else in the world telling me what to do. And because—”
But no. Those were the words Bridget didn’t speak aloud. The family secret that she left buried under a pile of lies. The one thing she ignored because she knew, if she said the words aloud, it would shatter what remaining bridge she had with her sisters.
“I can’t do this,” Bridget said. “I just can’t.”
Nora rose and reached for her. “Bridget, wait.”
Bridget shook her head and headed out the door and back into the sunshine. She kicked off her shoes, flung them into the grass on the side of the road, and walked home. Barefoot and sweaty. And alone.
Dear reader,
Every time I write a book, it’s hard. There’s a little of me in every single character, and I go through a lot of the same emotions as they do while I’m telling their stories. Some books, however, are harder to write because they are closer to my real life.
A few years before I wrote The Secret Ingredient for a Happy Marriage, I went through a divorce. It’s always difficult when a relationship you thought would last forever comes to an end. It was a rough period in my life but also one of those events that I drew from as I wrote Nora’s story.
When I started writing the book, I honestly wasn’t sure how Nora and Ben would end up. It wasn’t until I got to the very end and wrote the scene with Ben in the house that I realized I still believed in love and happily-ever-after, and I wanted to give that to Nora and Ben too. I’m an optimist at heart and believe in the ultimate goodness of people and the power of forgiveness and love.
The O’Bannon sisters’ books also let me go back home to Boston in my mind while I write. I miss my hometown in the fall and spring (not so much in winter!), and it’s like being around my own family when I’m writing.
I hope you love them as much as I do and find hope in Nora and Ben’s story. I don’t actually have a secret ingredient for a happy marriage, but if you ask me, I’d say it is grace and compassion. So, be kind to one another, readers, and never give up on love.
Reading Group Guide
Discussion questions
1. What do you think originally attracted Nora and Ben to one another? Nora explains how she and Ben met at a party and how she felt about him. How do you think he felt about her? How much of a relationship is set in the beginning and how are changes made as we grow?
2. Nora and Ben’s marriage is described as nearly perfect before his gambling changed it dramatically. Do you think it’s possible for one event to have such a strong influence? Or do you think their marriage would have had major problems without his gambling?
3. When Nora finds out that Sarah was in a playground fight, she doesn’t push for answers, choosing instead to ignore the problem for now. Do you think Nora’s tendency to put off reality contributed to the problems in her marriage?
4. Nora lies to her mother about her life, telling herself that it’s to protect her mother, just as she did when she was young. Why do you think Nora has done this for so long? Has it helped or hurt her family?
5. How do Nora’s weaknesses and vulnerabilities play into the story? How do her strengths? Do you see her as a likeable character? A good sister?
6. Do you understand Ben? Did your belief in his guilt or recovery change throughout the course of the novel? How much did he contribute to his own problems? How did Nora contribute to them?
7. How does this novel explore the power of love, the danger of dishonesty, and the possibility of redemption? What aspect were you most drawn to—the family drama, the exploration of sisterhood, or the love story?
8. Nora thinks that Ben would have been the one to adopt the dog and lav
ish it with gifts. Yet, in the end, Nora does keep Chance. Why do you think she does that?
9. The Nora-Ben-Will triangle is one of the most controversial developments in the novel. How does Will really feel about Nora? Do you think his interest was genuine and potentially long lasting? Did you think Ben’s jealousy was valid and normal?
10. How do you feel about Nora keeping the miscarriage a secret from Ben? Is there room for secrets in a marriage? Where do you draw the line?
11. Marriages can get comfortable with the status quo, with each person carrying out their assigned role. When one person changes, it can upset the relationship, and one spouse may subconsciously try to keep the other from changing. How does this concept come into play with Nora and Ben? Do you think a small part of Nora wanted Ben’s gambling to continue to be the reason their marriage wasn’t working? What did Ben have to gain by continuing to act irresponsibly and letting his children depend on Nora instead? If Ben has truly changed, how might that impact Nora’s role in their family?
12. Magpie’s decision about her baby takes time, since her true feelings seemed to slowly surface. She made some important decisions about her lifestyle when she was younger and doesn’t seem to want to acknowledge the change in herself over the years. Can you relate to that? How and why do people hide their true desires from themselves?
13. What role did Nora’s relationship with her mother play in her adult life? What about Magpie’s relationship with her mother? What about Iris’s relationship with her mother?
14. Roger is far more trusting of Iris than Colleen is, despite the fact that he has seen and dealt with a lot of people who lie because of their addictions or circumstances. Why do you think he is more trusting?