by Karma Brown
out of the bedroom ahead of him. As she reached the top of the
staircase, Richard a half step behind her, Nellie glanced down
and was glad for the change. The heels made her legs look even
longer under her skirt.
But she should have been more careful, more attentive to her
surroundings and less vain about her outfit. Suddenly unbal‑
anced, she gasped as she tipped forward off the top stair. Unable
to stop the momentum, Nellie tumbled down the staircase like
a rag doll, and though Richard had been right behind her only
moments earlier, he didn’t grab for her before she fell.
152
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 152
9/4/19 11:24 PM
21
q
Don’t expect your husband to make you happy while you are
simply a passive agent. Do your best to make him happy and you will find happiness yourself.
— Blanche Ebbutt, Don’ts for Wives (1913)
Alice
July 12, 2018
What is the right outfit to wear to your estranged father’s funeral?
Alice stared at the black sea of clothing strewn across the guest
room bed, paralyzed by indecision. Eventually she chose a skirt
and jacket off the top, and paired them with a sleeveless white
blouse and black flats. She dressed slowly despite being late, while Nate, long ago ready, paced the living room, waiting for her.
It had been raining for three days straight, but the moment
Alice stepped from the car and onto the cemetery’s soggy green
grass, the sun came out. A woman behind her whispered, “Oh,
Greg always loved a good silver lining,” as the sunbeams cast a
glare on top of her father’s glossy coffin. Alice kept her head
lowered, but she did not cry. Nate wrapped an arm around her
shoulders.
153
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 152
9/4/19 11:24 PM
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 153
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Karma Brown
Alice was relieved at how easily she blended in— another
black‑ outfitted mourner, anonymous in the crowd. She won‑
dered if those around her knew Greg Livingston had a daughter.
If they could see a resemblance between Alice and her dad.
Likely not, she decided, as no one gave her more than a polite
but reserved smile.
Sure enough, the sun didn’t stay long (much like her father,
she thought), and soon a swath of umbrellas opened, like col‑
orful dots against the otherwise gray sky. Alice had no idea who
all these people standing in concentric circles at the grave site
were, but her father clearly had friends who cared about him.
Alice wanted to be glad for that, but realizing all these strangers knew him in ways she didn’t cut deeply. Greg Livingston had
left and never once tried to get in touch, at least as far as Alice knew. No birthday cards, no Christmas presents, no phone calls
to check in. Jaclyn also had no idea where he was, so it wasn’t
like Alice could have reached out even if she’d wanted to. As she
grew up, her father became a faded memory she rarely invoked.
Because of this, Alice hadn’t wanted anything to do with
the funeral. “Why should I go?” she’d said to Nate on Sunday
night, four days earlier, when Jaclyn— still Alice’s father’s emer‑
gency contact— had called to let their only child know he had
died. “We’re basically strangers.”
Apparently, he had moved from Florida and back to New
York State at some point earlier in the year, and was working
odd construction jobs for the summer. He had settled only
fifteen miles from where Alice and Nate now lived, close enough
that they might have even passed each other at a grocery store,
or on the trains going back and forth. Would she have recog‑
nized him, not having seen him in nearly twenty years?
Greg had been alone when he died, her mother told her. In
a one‑ bedroom apartment that probably had little food in the
fridge but a well‑ stocked liquor cabinet. “What happened?”
154
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 154
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Recipe for a Perfect Wife
Alice had asked, her breath catching despite her best efforts to
stay unaffected by this news. Nate, unaware of the news at that
point, had looked over at her, the shift in her tone causing his
forehead to crease with concern.
“An accidental overdose, apparently.”
“Of what?” Alice asked. Pause. “An accidental overdose of
what, Mom?”
Jaclyn heaved a sigh. “Does it really matter, Alice?”
“Yes, it matters.”
“Well, they said it was Valium. He was probably having trouble
sleeping again,” Jaclyn said. “Greg was never a good sleeper.” The
silence hung heavy between the women for a moment. “Alice? Are
you still there, honey?”
“Yes,” Alice had said, as Nate set a supportive hand against
her back. “Now what?”
Jaclyn went on to say she hoped Alice would go to the fu‑
neral. Reminded her to up her vitamin C intake to counteract
the physical effects of this news.
“Why?” Alice had asked, about the funeral, not the vitamin
C, because she was truly incredulous at her mother’s request.
Jaclyn said she would have flown up but Steve had rotator cuff
surgery scheduled the day after, and she needed to be home.
Alice was the only one left to go, and so she went. She held
her own umbrella against the rain, and an ache in her gut spread
through the rest of her body like tentacles; soon every part of
her hurt. Like she was feverish with a flu, her body struggling to
rid itself of some virus trying to take over. Maybe she should
have listened to her mother about the vitamins, she thought, as
the sense of sickness spread.
Later, Nate found Alice lying on the living room floor, still in
her funeral ensemble. Hands stretched overhead and eyes closed;
155
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 154
9/4/19 11:24 PM
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 155
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Karma Brown
the only movement was in her chest, which rose in measured
breaths.
“What are you doing?” Nate asked, sitting on one end of the
sofa so he could see her face. His voice carried worry, though he
kept his tone light. She wanted to be alone. Though lying in
the middle of the living room floor was not the most incon‑
spicuous place to rest when one wanted solitude.
“Does it feel warmer in here?” Alice asked.
“Warmer? I don’t know,” Nate replied. “I guess so?”
“Don’t you think that’s weird? I mean, this room used to be
freezing. I had to wear a sweater all the time. And now it’s
warm.”
“Do you want me to open a window?” Nate asked.
“No. I like it.” Alice’s eyes remained closed as she took in a
long breath, appreciating the moment of serenity.
“Do you need anything? A glass of water?”
“In one of those magazines it said if you feel tired to lie
on
the floor with your eyes closed for five minutes.”
Alice didn’t see Nate’s smile because her eyes were shut.
“Which magazine?” he asked.
“One of the old ones I found in the basement, with the
cookbook. From the fifties.”
Nate’s knees cracked when he crouched, and his arm pressed
against hers as he lay on the floor beside her. Things hadn’t
been quite right between them since the night Nate blew off
dinner— despite his apologies, promises to make it up to her—
but it was a lot of work, staying angry. They lay in silence for a
while, only the sound of their breath filling the space between
them.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he finally asked.
Alice shook her head. “No.”
“Okay.” The blissful quiet enveloped Alice again. “It’s all
right to be upset, Ali. He was still your father.”
156
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 156
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Recipe for a Perfect Wife
“In title only,” Alice replied. She opened her eyes, stared at
the plaster ceiling covered with fancy swirls and tiny crests that
proved excellent holders for spiderwebs. She should probably
take a broom to it tomorrow. “I’m going to start dinner.”
Nate rolled onto his side toward her, bent his elbow, and
rested his head in his palm. “I thought we could order in to‑
night.”
“Already thawed the chicken.” Alice sat up slowly and
wrapped her arms around her knees. Her head was fogged,
probably because she hadn’t yet eaten today, and she waited for
the dizziness to pass. “I think the house likes it when I cook.”
There was a pause from Nate, and then: “You mean, because
it smells good?” He sat up as well.
Alice took a breath in, let it out. Still light‑ headed. “That too.”
Nate shook his head, laughed gently. “I’m confused.”
“I know it sounds nuts, but ever since I started making recipes
from Nellie Murdoch’s old cookbook, the house feels warmer.
And we haven’t had a house disaster in over a week.” Alice stood,
felt okay. “The kitchen tap doesn’t drip anymore, and even the
fridge has gone quiet. Did you notice how quiet it is?”
Nate’s mouth opened and closed; then he smiled and got to
his feet as well. He rubbed Alice’s back, her jacket bunching
slightly as he did. “I think you need some sleep, sweets.”
“Go in the kitchen and listen,” Alice said as she walked to the
stairs, wanting to change before making dinner. She slipped her
shoes off before she started up, Nellie’s last letter outlining a nasty slip and fall down this very staircase— the last thing Alice needed was a broken ankle, or worse. “You’l see. It doesn’t rattle anymore.”
Nate put his hands on his hips, frowning as he watched Alice
climb the stairs, creaking with each step. Then he went into the
kitchen and waited, counting to ten . . . then twenty, listening
for the reliable clunks and clatters of their antique refrigerator.
But it had gone quiet, after all.
157
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 156
9/4/19 11:24 PM
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 157
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Karma Brown
From the desk of Eleanor Murdoch
July 18, 1956
Dearest Mother,
I’m sorry I’m unable to visit as planned. This broken
ankle is keeping me tied to home, and I’m convalescing
with an ugly plaster cast on my leg that the doctor feels
will have to stay on for some time yet. I’m not typically
prone to clumsiness, but the unfortunate combination
of a new pair of heels and freshly polished stairs
resulted in quite the dramatic fall. It was most
upsetting, but the pain has now eased, thankfully.
I do hope to be relieved of this plaster sooner than
Dr. Johnson has suggested. My accident also ruined
Richard’s birthday dinner— I had made a most
gorgeous batch of mint jelly to go with lamb
chops— but I’ll make it up to him soon enough.
Helen, our girl, is staying in the guest room for a
couple of weeks to help out, but I fear she won’t be able
to manage the garden too. It’s going to be an awful
mess when I’m finally able to get back to it, with all the
rain we’ve been having recently. I wish you could be
here— the garden and I would be so lucky to have you!
I did manage to cut and dry enough herbs for another
batch of herb mix before my fall, and my lovely
neighbor Miriam is coming over to help me make it
while I’m off my feet. I’d hate for Richard to go
without, as he really does love the added spice on
his meals.
158
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 158
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Recipe for a Perfect Wife
His stomach pains had been improving, but the last
few nights he’s been quite unwell. I’ve had Helen
prepare some of your tried- and- true invalid
meals, though they seem not to be making much of a
difference yet. My own appetite is down, which I
suppose is good, as I spend so much time lying about
these days, and getting thick in the middle will only
make things worse.
Will send more news soon. Kisses and all my love.
Your loving daughter, Nellie xx
159
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 158
9/4/19 11:24 PM
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 159
9/4/19 11:24 PM
22
q
Nellie
July 18, 1956
N ellie scowled at the bulky plaster of paris cast on her leg, perched on top of a sofa cushion. At least she had painted her
toenails before her accident. The wooden crutches leaned beside
her as she wrote on her lap, using a stack of magazines to keep
her correspondence paper from creasing. She folded the finished
letter carefully, lining the edges up and licking the envelope flap to seal it. She wrote out her mother’s address in its center and
her own at the top left corner before setting the envelope on the
side table within reach.
“Would you like me to mail that for you, Mrs. Murdoch?”
Helen came into the living room to collect Nellie’s barely touched
lunch. “I can pop by the post office on my way to the market this
afternoon. It’s no bother.”
“Please, Helen, call me Nellie,” she replied, like she did every
time Helen cal ed her by her mother‑ in‑ law’s name, Mrs. Murdoch.
Helen, who was a head taller than Nellie, with large eyes that
always looked surprised, nodded at the request, but Nellie knew
she wouldn’t abide by it. “And, no, thank you, it’s fine. I’m
planning to write a few more, so perhaps once those are done
160
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 160
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Recipe for a Perfect Wife
I’ll have you send them along.” Nellie tucked the envelope
inside the front cover of the most recent issue of Ladies’ Home Journal.
“
Anything else I can get for you before I go, ma’am?”
“I’m fine for now,” Nellie said. “Also, I was thinking about
cold lamb sandwiches with mint sauce for dinner this evening.
Maybe with a green salad? Do we still have some lamb left?”
“Enough for at least one sandwich.” Helen reached behind
Nellie and fluffed up her pillows, coming close in a way that
made Nellie uncomfortable. The bruise across her jaw was
merely a shadow now, but Nellie still tucked her chin to the side
and out of Helen’s sight.
“Are you done with your lunch?” Helen asked.
“I am, thank you. It was delicious, but my appetite isn’t quite
back yet.” She smiled in apology. “Save the lamb for Richard. It’s
one of his favorites.”
Helen nodded. “I’ll prepare it when I’m back from the mar‑
keting. What about your supper?”
“I’ll have a small salad, maybe some broth. Thank you, Helen.
That’s all for now.”
“ Knock‑ knock!” Miriam’s voice echoed from the front door.
“Oh, could you see Miriam in, please?” Nellie asked.
“Of course, Mrs. Murdoch,” Helen replied, to which Nellie
sighed softly. “I’ll leave that sandwich there for you in case you
get hungry later.”
“Fine, thank you.” Nellie fought to keep the irritation from
her tone. Helen’s near constant presence and fussing made Nellie
claustrophobic and unsettled. She needed the help but had grown
used to being alone in her house. However, Richard had been
quite insistent: Helen would stay with them until Nellie could
manage things on her own, whether she liked it or not.
“How’s our patient doing?” Miriam moved slowly, clearly
suffering with her swollen joints today. She chose a chair across
161
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 160
9/4/19 11:24 PM
9781524744939_RecipeFor_TX.indd 161
9/4/19 11:24 PM
Karma Brown
from Nellie and gave a warm smile. “You look better, dear.
More color in those beautiful cheeks.”
“You are too kind,” Nellie replied. “But how are you? You
seem to be in some pain yourself?”
“Oh, I’m right as rain. Don’t fret. You have enough on your
plate, dear.”
Helen popped her head back into the living room. “Can I
get you something to drink, Mrs. Claussen?”
“Oh, that would be lovely. I’ll have whatever Nellie is
having.”
