loved so much.
Nate ignored her questions, grunting as he dug in and around
the base of the cut foxglove stem. “I don’t care. Put in some
shrubs.”
Shrubs? Alice rolled her eyes.
Nate grumbled, yanking on the stem to try to pull it out by
the root. “Who cares about the deer? No way am I letting some
deadly plant live in this garden.”
“I didn’t say it was ‘deadly.’ ” Alice crossed her arms while
she watched him remove the second foxglove plant. “And I care
about the deer.”
“Why aren’t you more worried about our inevitable baby and
208
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 208
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Recipe for a Perfect Wife
what happens if she gets into the garden and eats one of these
toxic leaves?” Nate lost his balance as the stem yanked free,
spraying the two of them with a shower of black earth. “It’s all
coming out. Today.”
“She?”
Nate gathered the newly dug‑up foxglove into a pile, careful
to avoid it touching his skin. He stood and swiped his brow
with his forearm. “I’d love a little girl,” he said. “Wouldn’t you?
A mini Alice?”
“Sure,” Alice said, the pang of guilt slicing through her. She
almost confessed then, right there beside the growing pile of fox‑
glove, what she had done. Nate loved her and would understand.
They were young! Plenty of time still for a mini Alice, or even
more than one.
“Here, hold this.” Nate handed her a yard‑waste bag.
“What if it doesn’t work?” Alice asked, holding the bag open
wide for Nate to dispose of the foxglove remnants. He was careful
to keep the stems from touching Alice’s hands.
“If what doesn’t work?”
“This.” She withdrew one hand, drew circles in the air in
front of her stomach. “A baby.”
“Why? Is something wrong?” He was crouched, gathering
another pile, but he stopped and squinted up at her.
“No.” But she had paused too long, and Nate noticed. He
took off the gloves, dropping them to the grass, and pulled the
bag away from her. Then he stood in front of her and his palms
were warm and sweaty on her upper arms. “You know you can
tell me anything, right?”
“I know.”
Nate’s hands squeezed her arms gently. “I get that it has
been a tough couple of months. I’ve had a lot of late nights re‑
cently and I’m tired, and maybe a bit distracted when I’m home,
but I promise, it’s temporary.”
209
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 208
9/4/19 11:24 PM
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 209
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Karma Brown
“Maybe you could study more at home?” Alice said. “There
are probably fewer distractions. Especially if I work at the same
time. It will be like old times.” Back when Nate was studying for
his earlier exams and Alice had endless press releases to write,
and they’d set themselves up in bed with a bowl of Cheetos be‑
tween them.
He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s just easier to
study at the office, babe. Everything is there.”
Alice shifted slightly away from him, and he let her.
“Not much longer, okay?” She nodded.
“Now, can we go back to getting rid of these evil plants?”
Nate asked.
“Sure.” Nate put the gloves back on, and she held the waste
bag, opening it as wide as it would go. As Nate tossed the re‑
maining foxglove and other weeds into the bag, Alice thought
about everything she was keeping from Nate— the truth about
her job and James Dorian, the smoking, the IUD, how little
she’d been writing— and wondered what he might be keeping
from her as well.
210
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 210
9/4/19 11:24 PM
29
Nellie
septeMber 1, 1956
Herbed Cheese Popovers
1 cup sifted flour
1⁄ 2 teaspoon salt
1 cup sweet milk
1 tablespoon melted butter
2 eggs
1⁄ 3 cup grated cheese
2 tablespoons fresh chives, or other dried herbs of choice
Beat together just until smooth the flour, salt, milk, melted butter, and eggs. Add cheese and chives, and stir to combine. Pour into greased muffin tins to half full, then bake in hot oven (400°F) until popovers are golden brown (about 20–25 minutes). Serve immediately.
N ellie smoked a Lucky, eyeing the teenager from behind
her sunglasses as he crouched in her garden. Peter Pellosi, the
211
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 210
9/4/19 11:24 PM
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 211
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Karma Brown
neighborhood boy who did yard work to earn money through
the summer, was young— only seventeen— but looked like a man
already with his bulging biceps and strong shoulders. While still
sweet‑ cheeked, he had a few shaving nicks on his chin and around
his Adam’s apple.
“What would you like done with the hostas?” Peter asked,
turning to Nellie and squinting in the bright sunshine. His
shorts showed off muscled legs, trickles of sweat mixing with the
dirt and dripping into his socks and high‑ top sneakers. Nellie set the magazine on her lap and put hand to forehead to block the
light so she could see the plants. Normally Nellie’s garden would
be in tiptop shape, but her broken ankle meant she had done
next to nothing these past eight weeks.
“Darn pushy, those hostas are,” she said. “I’d like to wait a
few weeks longer to cut them back, but fall is nearly here.” She
took out another cigarette, holding the pack out to Peter. “Would
you like one?”
He paused for a moment. “Thank you, ma’am.” Wiping his
hands on his shorts, he pulled his Zippo lighter from his back
pocket and took the cigarette from Nellie, even though he had
his own pack rolled under his shirtsleeve. He sparked the lighter,
and Nellie placed the mother‑ of‑ pearl cigarette holder to her
lips, leaning the Lucky’s tip into the flame. She inhaled and
tapped the chair beside her. Peter obliged, taking a long drag
and exhaling into the warm, late‑summer air.
“You’re back to school next week, aren’t you?” Nellie asked.
He nodded. “Looking forward to it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She watched him as she took another pull on her cigarette.
“Are you going steady with anyone, Peter?”
He blushed to the tips of his ears, his knees bouncing with
youthful energy. “No, ma’am.”
“Well, Peter Pellosi, I can’t believe that.” His blush deepened,
212
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 212
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Recipe for a Perfect Wife
and he looked delighted and uncertain all at once. They smoked
in silence for a few moments before Nellie pointed her cigarette
toward one of the hostas, which was particularly overgrown.
“Cut that one right down its center. And don’t be gentle. The
roots are stronger than you think they’ll be.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Peter stubbed out his smoke and picked up
the hoe, piled with the other tools on the patio stones. Even
though he was out of range now, back in the depths of garden,
his scent remained— clean sweat, plus a hint of the laundry soap
his mother used.
“Good heavens, it’s warm today.” Nellie fanned herself with
the magazine. She glanced at her watch, noted the time, and
smiled. Not long now. “I’m going to get us a cold drink. All
right?”
“That would be swell.” Peter positioned the hoe over the
center of the hosta. “Thanks, Mrs. Murdoch.” He brought the
hoe’s tip down hard, grunting, cutting the plant clean through
the middle.
Inside, Nellie hummed as she poured two ice‑ filled glasses of
lemonade, dotting the surfaces with fresh mint leaves. Opening
the refrigerator, she put the jug back and took out two of Rich‑
ard’s beers— hooking her fingers around the green bottles on
the top shelf. Singing softly, Nellie set the beers on the tray
beside the glasses of lemonade and nudged the fridge door
closed with her hip.
“I have lemonade but thought you might like one of these
as well?” Nellie said, holding up one of the bottles once she was
back outside.
“Oh, I probably shouldn’t.” Peter stared at the bottle in
Nellie’s hands, licked a drip of sweat from his lips.
“I won’t tell anyone.” She used the opener to pop off the lid,
handing him the bottle. “I believe you’ve earned this. Go on,
our little secret.”
213
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 212
9/4/19 11:24 PM
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 213
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Karma Brown
He grinned, took it from her. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Peter put the beer bottle to his mouth and tipped it back.
His nicked Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank the sparkling
amber liquid. A little escaped his lips and dribbled down his
chin as the screen door banged shut, and Richard— pausing to
take in the scene— appeared on the back patio. Nellie wiped the
dripping beer from Peter’s chin with a napkin.
“There you go,” she said, letting her fingers linger longer
than they needed to on Peter’s chin, making sure Richard could
see. Peter appeared to stop breathing, very aware of Mr. Murdoch
standing only a foot away and looking none too pleased about
the exchange young Peter was having with his wife.
Nellie turned, pretending to only then notice Richard. “Oh,
hello there! How was bowling today?” She opened her own
bottle of beer, taking a long sip. The glass rim was wonderfully
chilled against her lips. Peter’s eyes widened— she expected he’d
never seen a woman drink beer right from the bottle, his own
mother a teetotaler— and Richard’s eyes narrowed, arms crossed.
His red‑and‑black bowling shirt stretched across his chest, the
buttons straining.
Peter squinted, glancing between the couple, and put his
beer on the table before reaching out to shake Richard’s hand.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Murdoch.” His Adam’s apple wiggled
with nervousness.
“Peter,” Richard said, returning the handshake with extra
force. Peter winced but held his own. “How’s your father
doing?”
“Just fine, sir.” Peter looked over at the hostas, wanting to
be anywhere but standing between the Murdochs. “Uh, I guess
I’ll get back to it?”
“Good idea,” Richard said, sitting in the chair Peter had oc‑
cupied only moments before and scowling at the teenager. He
214
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 214
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Recipe for a Perfect Wife
picked up the glass of lemonade intended for Peter and plucked
out the mint, flinging it onto the grass. Peter glanced back
and Nellie smiled reassuringly. “Right down the middle of that
one too, Peter. Don’t let that little old plant give you any
trouble.”
Nellie settled back in her own chair, watching Peter jam the
hoe into the earth. “Can you believe he’s not going steady
with anyone? A boy like that?” She shook her head, gingerly sipped
the beer. The flavor wasn’t her favorite, but with Richard watching so disapprovingly, gosh darn it, she would drink the whole thing.
“Though he’s grown into quite a man this past year.”
Richard glared at her. “I thought we were paying him to
clean up the garden, not talk your ear off.”
“Never mind that.” Nellie leaned toward Richard, and in a
stage whisper said, “I think I may have given young Peter his
first beer!”
Richard scrubbed a hand through his hair. “For Christ’s
sake, Nellie,” he mumbled.
He was frustrated. Richard was used to Nellie being the sort
of wife who did as her husband asked; who was demure and
prettier than his friends’ wives and would never drink a beer, let
alone from a bottle or with a strapping young man (who was, to
be clear, closer in age to Nellie than Richard was). Nellie
Murdoch was— or had been to now— the flawless wife. But
lately she had been impudent, and Nellie knew that made
Richard uneasy. But he wouldn’t punish her for it, being un‑
willing to take any chances this time when it came to the baby,
and Nellie was quite aware of the power this afforded her. Hence
her shameless flirting with Peter Pellosi, which would tie Richard
up in knots.
“I made cheese popovers and a Waldorf salad for lunch,”
Nellie said, her mood brightening as Richard’s darkened. She
215
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 214
9/4/19 11:24 PM
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 215
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Karma Brown
took out another cigarette, lit it, and opened her magazine on
her lap. Nellie peeked at Richard, relished the look of conster‑
nation on her husband’s face. “Why don’t you go ahead and eat?
I had something not long ago, and I don’t want to leave young
Peter all alone out here.”
216
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 216
9/4/19 11:24 PM
30
q
Don’t be jealous of your husband’s acquaintance with other women.
You don’t want him to think you are the nicest woman in the world
because he never sees any others, but because he sees plenty, and
still feels that you are the only one in the world for him. Have nice girls about the house pretty frequently.
— Blanche Ebbutt, Don’ts for Wives (1913)
Alice
August 13, 2018
I was reading through Nellie’s letters to her mother, for my book research, and found something I wasn’t expecting.” It was
Monday afternoon, and Alice was on her knees in the garden,
&nbs
p; patting the earth around the newly planted shrubs she’d bought
to fill the holes from yesterday’s foxglove removal.
Sally was clipping off roses for a friend in Stamford with a
broken hip she was visiting later. “What was it?”
“You said Nellie and Richard never had children, right?”
“They didn’t. Not as far as I know.” Sally pulled back to
squint at the rose bouquet in her gloved hand, then, satisfied
217
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 216
9/4/19 11:24 PM
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 217
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Karma Brown
with its fullness, lay the roses on her patio table so she could
trim the thorns.
“Those are so pretty,” Alice said, looking at Sally’s roses.
She glanced back at her own garden. “I wonder if I’ll ever be
good at this.”
“You need to give it a couple of full cycles of the seasons
before you’ll know for sure.” Sally snipped at the stems, the
spiky thorns dropping to the table. “I think your garden is
looking lovely, though. You’ve obviously been working hard at
it.” She pointed to the shrub Alice had nested into the earth,
her handprints still evident around its base in the dark, damp
soil. “I hate to tell you this, dear, but that will likely not fare well there.”
Alice looked at the squat shrub. “How come?”
“It doesn’t have enough room. For its roots,” Sally replied.
“You might need to choose something else for that spot. What
was there before?”
“The foxglove. I told Nate it was toxic and he yanked it all
out. Was worried about our hypothetical child making a salad
of the leaves.” Alice rolled her eyes. “Which is ridiculous be‑
cause, one, we have no idea when and if this child will manifest,
and, two, name me a toddler who eats salad.”
Sally laughed. “You have a point there, Miss Alice.”
“So, should I dig this out? Put it somewhere else where it
won’t feel crowded?”
The older woman brought a finger to her upper lip, scanned
the garden bed. She pointed to the back corner, which did have
more space. “There, beside the echinacea, maybe. The one that
looks like a purple daisy.”
“Let’s be clear,” Alice replied, crouching in front of the
shrub and beginning to dig it out. “I don’t want to put it any‑
where. I was happy with the foxglove.”
“You can always get more foxglove at the garden center.