The Secret Ingredient for a Happy Marriage

by Shirley Jump

  “Mags asked me if Abby and I could come to the Cape for dinner on Saturday night,” Bridget said. “But we have this big wedding order that came in at the last minute, and we’ll be working late that day to finish.”

  Guilt washed over Nora. “I should come back. You guys shouldn’t have to handle that without—”

  “We can and will handle it, Nora. You deserve a few days off. Plus, I bet the time away will make that handsome husband of yours miss you like crazy.”

  She doubted Ben was thinking of her with anything other than annoyance right now. “I’m sure you’re right,” Nora said. “I can’t wait to see him.”

  It was a wonder God didn’t strike her with a bolt of lightning right here in downtown Truro. She glanced over at Will, and her guilt multiplied. He flashed her a quick smile, then went back to admiring a painting of two children playing on the beach, a leaning sandcastle half constructed between them.

  “Hey, Nora, I hate to let you go, but I’ve got a meeting with a bride in a few minutes. Give those kids a hug from their aunt Bridget and be sure to have lots of fun with Magpie!”

  “I will. Talk to you later, Bridge.” Nora tucked the phone back into her pocket and turned to Will.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  Not even close. But Nora put on her lying smile and said, “Yup, everything’s great. It was one of my sisters, calling to see how I was doing.”

  “How many sisters do you have?”

  “Four. I’m the second oldest, and Magpie, the sister I’m here with, is the youngest. We’re a big, noisy Catholic family from Boston.”

  He chuckled. “Nothing clichéd about that.”

  A hunched woman in her late eighties came in from a room in the back and greeted Will with a warm hug and a kiss on each cheek. The old woman was wearing a bright, multicolored dress that hit at her knees and a floral headband settled into her short, gray curls. Bright pink cat-eye glasses matched her fuchsia lipstick and nails. “William. So good to see you. How’s my favorite artist?”

  He chuckled. “You say that to everyone who exhibits here.”

  “Ah, but you’re the only one I say it to and mean it.” She glanced up at Nora. “And who is this lovely young woman with you?”

  “This is Nora,” Will said, shifting into position beside her. “She’s staying at the Duncan place down the street from me. Nora, this is Beverly, the best gallery owner on the Eastern seaboard.”

  Beverly laughed. “You’re just buttering me up so I’ll make you the headliner at the next show.” She gave him a smile that spoke of a long friendship filled with affection. She turned to Nora. “Charlie Duncan’s place is a lovely home. Did you know you have a piece of Will’s hanging in that house?”

  “I do?” Nora glanced at him. “Which one?”

  “The one of the lighthouse,” Beverly answered. “I believe it’s still hanging in the back bedroom. I sold it to the house’s owner a couple years ago. His sister loved it, so he hung it in the guest bedroom.”

  “That’s the room I’m staying in. I love that painting.” The first night she’d stayed in the beach house, Nora had lain awake in bed, watching the moonlight dance across the swirls of paint. In the dark, it almost seemed like the water was moving, the oil-created ocean rolling in over and over again. The sky was much like the one today—dark, forbidding, a storm whipping at the water. The whitecaps of the waves multiplied on one another until it looked like thick fog. And in the center of it all, the Cape Cod lighthouse, a white beacon drawing one lone sailor back to a safe harbor.

  “I love the juxtaposition in it, the contrast between danger and possibilities. The storm is on its way in, but you don’t know when, or whether the boat will make it back in time,” she said. “When I look at that painting, I almost want to hold my breath and wait to see if the captain manages to reach the harbor before the storm rolls in. But the lighthouse is there, promising safe passage and something the captain can depend upon.”

  Good Lord, she was rambling. What was wrong with her? It was just a painting, and he was just a man. An ordinary man.

  But then he gave her a shy grin and she was glad for every word she’d said. “Thanks.”

  “Ah, this one, she gets it.” The old woman smiled. “You have quite an eye for art, young lady. Are you a painter too?”

  A three-year-old had more artistic abilities than Nora did. She shook her head. “Oh no, I’m just a baker.”

  Will leaned toward the old woman and cupped a hand around her ear, feigning a secret. “Don’t let her fool you, Bev. This woman has created some cakes that I think should be works of art of their own.”

  Nora blinked. “How do you know that?”

  “A little determined Googling. I knew your name, knew you baked cakes, and knew you were from somewhere in the Boston area. Took me a minute, but I found an article about this cake the mayor ordered for his birthday party, and in the picture there was one Nora O’Bannon who works at Charmed by Dessert and who looks suspiciously like my new friend Nora the Neighbor.”

  That cake replica of the Boston skyline had taken her three days to complete. The intricacies of the skyscrapers and the molding of the tiny street details had been time-consuming, backbreaking work. She’d missed Sarah’s school recital and come home so exhausted that she’d barely been a part of her own family that week. Was that the kind of thing that had eroded her relationship with her daughter? Was that all Sarah wanted—more time? “That’s my sister Bridget’s recipe. She’s the chief baker, and she’s always making something amazing out of thin air.”

  “I saw some of the cakes on the shop’s website, and I’d have to disagree and say you’re the one creating amazing things.” Will smiled.

  Her face heated, and a little thrill ran through her. How long had it been since a man complimented her? Ben used to, back in the days before. Before the gambling. Before the bills. Before she fell apart. Before their lives disintegrated. But as the years went on and the chasm between them widened, Ben stopped asking about her days at work, and she stopped asking about his. Their conversations became perfunctory, focused on the kids—Did you check Jake’s backpack? Sarah has a recital Tuesday night. Don’t forget to be at the parent-teacher conference.

  “Could I interest you two in a cup of tea?” Beverly asked.

  Will glanced at Nora and then back at the shop owner. “Maybe another time, Bev. I’m going to show Nora the artist’s view of Truro.”

  Beverly put a hand on Nora’s arm and smiled up at her. “Oh, I envy you, young lady. If I was thirty years younger, I’d fight you for the chance to spend the day alone with this handsome man.”

  Nora wanted to rush in and explain that this handsome man wasn’t her man, that this wasn’t a date, but Will was already saying goodbye and leading them out of the gallery. He stopped on the sidewalk outside the little Cape and turned to her. The air had thickened, promising another storm sometime today. “I apologize for Bev. She’s a really enthusiastic supporter of local artists, and if we stayed much longer, she would have tried to sell you the entire William Gibson collection.”

  “Given the one example I have, I’d say the William Gibson collection is probably worth buying.”

  That shy grin swept across his face again. She imagined he was about as comfortable with praise as she was. There was a reason Nora worked in the back of the bakery and not up front.

  “Okay, on to the rest of the tour before we get caught in the weather,” Will said. “And as much as I envy that sporty little roadster of yours, I think we’re best off taking my Jeep.”

  “Oh, that’s not my car. It’s my sister’s. I drive a Buick. Four doors, practical, boring. A mom car.” Which is what she should be remembering. She was a mom. A married mom. She shouldn’t be getting into anyone’s Jeep right now. She should be working on a way out of the mess she was in.

  But Nora was tired of doing the right thing. Tired of shouldering all the burden. Tired of holding her cards close to her chest, a
lone in her pain and loss. Ben should be the one finding a home for his kids. Ben should be worried about first, last, and security deposits. Maybe in her absence, he would have no choice but to step up. And in the meantime, Nora was going to stop following all those rules and expectations that hadn’t gotten her anywhere. Nora was going to be dangerous and unpredictable, at least for one afternoon.

  “Mom car or not, it gets you from A to B, so there’s nothing wrong with that.” He pointed to a black Wrangler in the parking lot. An older model, with a removable hard top and roll bars. “There’s my ride. And if you want to give Beverly or the deli owner a heads-up, I won’t be offended.”

  “A heads-up? About what?”

  “That I am taking you away in my car, possibly for nefarious purposes.” He arched a brow and did his best villainous leer.

  Nora laughed, really laughed, and realized how good it felt to do that again. “Do you have a nefarious purpose in mind?”

  “Nope.” He pressed a hand to his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

  “Then let’s go. Before it gets too dangerous.” She climbed into the passenger seat, unsure if she meant the impending storm or the time alone with Will.

  TEN

  The second round of storms rolled over Truro just as Nora was getting home. She pulled into the beach house driveway and saw Will park in his own driveway. He sent her a quick wave before he dashed inside. She sat in the little red sports car as the storm pounded the roof and the moment of being dangerous and unpredictable wore off.

  What was she thinking?

  She hadn’t been. She’d been caught in the rush of Will’s flirting, the excitement of stepping outside those lines of her life, and craved more of that sense of doing something wrong. A part of her thought she deserved it. After all she’d put up with, all she had endured, all the times Ben had abandoned her. Didn’t she merit a little flirting and smiling once in a while? The day had thrilled her, a roller coaster of emotions that had left her heart racing.

  Nora reached for the door handle and paused. Was that how Ben felt every time he’d put another ten-dollar chip down on red? Had walking into the casino given him that same punch of excitement?

  Regardless, spending an afternoon looking at art and a few cool architectural features around Truro didn’t put their family into financial distress. It was hardly as irresponsible as what Ben had done. But that didn’t stop the flickers of guilt that ran through her as she hunched into her sweatshirt and ran the short distance from the driveway to the house, rain pelting her and soaking through the cotton fabric, chilling her skin. Wind blew the door inward and nearly yanked it from her hand. Nora shut the door, lowered her sweatshirt, and whisked the worst of the water off her clothes. “Whew. It’s wet out there.”

  Magpie, Jake, and Sarah stared at her from the living room, the three of them standing side by side. Jake was grinning, Magpie looked guilty, and Sarah was smiling. A suspiciously happy smile.

  Despite the smile, Nora was pretty damned sure this wasn’t good news.

  “What?” Nora asked.

  “We found something,” Magpie said, putting up her hands. “And before you freak out, just hear us out.”

  Nothing good ever came after before you freak out.

  “What exactly did you find?” Nora lowered her purse to the floor and hung her wet sweatshirt on a hook, with a little sinking dread in her gut.

  “This.” Magpie grinned like she’d hit the lottery and then stepped to one side, the kids to the other. And there, behind them, sat a wet, bedraggled dog.

  Don’t freak out. Yeah, easier said than done. Nora could barely afford to feed the people she had in her life. Surely the kids didn’t expect to keep this dog? Even if he was admittedly kind of adorable. In that little-orphan-Annie-rescue-dog way.

  His scrawny body had light brown fur, short pointy ears, and a tail that swooped across the floor in hopeful, friendly arcs. A cute dog, sort of a ragamuffin mutt with a little terrier in him.

  Don’t freak out. Even though everything in Nora wanted to scream, Get rid of it! We can’t afford it. I don’t need one more thing to worry about.

  Jake came running forward first. He latched on to Nora’s hand, pumping it with excitement as he talked. “Mommy, can we keep him? He was all wet, and he was cold, and we gave him dinner, and he loves us!”

  She shook her head, hating the disappointment that filled Jake’s brown eyes. Why did she have to keep being the bad guy? Why wasn’t Ben the one standing here, saying no to a lost mutt? Because Ben wouldn’t say no. Ben would adopt the dog without a second thought, then do something big, like build a doghouse in the backyard or whisk everyone off to Petland to lavish the stray with chew toys and dog bones. Nora was the realistic one, the one who looked at all the angles and ramifications, the one who remembered that paying the mortgage and feeding the humans in the house came first. “Jake, we can’t keep a dog. He probably belongs to someone who is missing him, and—”

  “He doesn’t have a collar. We checked. And he was sad, until he saw us. Now he’s happy. See?”

  “Jake’s right. We found him, just wandering the beach, a real mess,” Magpie said, giving the mutt an ear rub. “He needed a bath, something to eat, and a place to crash for the night. I swear, the silly dog is smiling now.”

  The dog did, indeed, look happy. But that was probably mostly due to his full belly. Nora saw the remains of the leftover burgers they’d had for dinner last night scattered on a paper plate in the kitchen. The stray had dined pretty well. “Jake, this isn’t our house, and—”

  “We can take him home. We have a big yard.” Sarah laid a protective hand on the dog’s head. “Mom, he’s a really nice dog. And Daddy loves dogs. He’ll say yes.”

  Damn it. Even Sarah was finally talking to Nora again. If she said no, the kids would be crushed. They’d already had so much disappointment in their lives, with even more devastating news to come soon.

  How was she supposed to tell the kids there was no house and no yard to bring the dog to? That as soon as this little vacation from reality was over, they were going to have to move into a new, strange place? A place that probably wasn’t going to allow a dog, assuming Nora could even afford to add a pet fee to the growing list of expenses for moving.

  An overwhelming sense of failure threatened to swamp her. Her life was a mess, her kids were about to be homeless, and she’d been out on a not-date date, looking at art with a stranger all afternoon. Instead of working or calling the bank or something productive.

  The dog let out a little bark, and his tail wagged some more. Undoubtedly, someone was missing this dog. They could keep it for tonight, and in the morning, she’d look up the local vet, bring the dog there, and he’d reunite it with its proper owner. That would delay the disappointment, at least for a few hours. “He can stay tonight—”

  The kids cheered. Jake did a little dance, and Sarah hugged the dog’s neck.

  “But tomorrow,” Nora added, always the bad cop and hating it, “we’re going to find his owners.”

  Jake’s face fell. Sarah’s gaze dropped to the floor. If there was a Worst Mother of the Year award, Nora was a shoo-in. Once again, she cursed Ben and his decision to put horse races and blackjack games ahead of providing for his family. He was the one who had brought them to this place, brought her to this horrible position of having to disappoint her kids. Again.

  “Who’s ready for dinner?” Magpie said, before the kids could start to cry or beg Nora to change her mind. Nora sent her sister a grateful smile. “Why don’t you guys go get cleaned up, and I’ll order a pizza? You guys want pepperoni or cheese? Or both?”

  Once Jake and Sarah were out of the room, the dog slid onto the floor and laid his head on his paws. He let out a sigh, as if to say, Whew, dodged that bullet.

  Nora sank into a chair. She ran a hand through her damp hair. Yet another mess in an already complex life. “A dog, Magpie? What am I going to do with a dog?”

  “I know, I know.” She
dropped onto the ottoman. “But Sarah got super excited when she saw him. She’s been so sad ever since she got here, and I saw her perk up, and I just couldn’t say no.”

  Ever since the meeting with Sister Esther, Nora had been trying to figure out what was going on with Sarah. Dropped grades, angry looks, and playground fights were completely out of character. Could a dog turn her daughter’s attitude around? Was it really that simple? It was an awful lot to ask of something with four legs and scruffy fur.

  Maybe later, when they all were settled in a home again, Nora could get the kids a dog. But right now, she didn’t even know where they were going to sleep when they got back to Dorchester. “I can’t keep a dog. They need too much…just too much.”

  “That’s what Ma used to say whenever we asked for a dog.” Her sister got to her feet and crossed to the kitchen counter. The dog padded over to her and raised his head for attention. Magpie gave his ears an absentminded rub. “Remember how many times we begged to get one?”

  “I asked Santa for a puppy every single year,” Nora said. When she’d been too little to write, she’d drawn a picture. But all Santa had brought her was a stuffed dog that she’d named Rags. “Ma always said a dog would be too much work, between the bakery and us girls and everything.”