Pre Opening Night Terror
Fear is not a stop sign
From a not-so-restful sleep, I awoke in night terrors.
I could hardly breathe.
In just a few short hours, Mary’s Marvelous would open its doors for the very first time to a sunny Amagansett morning and, hopefully, curious customers.
I had wanted this my whole cooking life. I was committed to opening those doors.
So why, on the very morning I was finally getting the thing I wanted most, did fear arrive and scare the living daylights out of me?
Didn’t it know who I was?
I was the determined young woman who had once walked through the back door of a professional kitchen and stood face to face with the formidable Chef Greg Broman, asking for my first cooking job.
He was reluctant. I was not.
I stood my ground until his hesitation finally turned into a yes. Poor guy really didn’t have much of a choice.
And yet there I was years later, hyperventilating in the dark before dawn, feeling excitement and cold waves of panic move through me at the exact same time.
This opening felt enormous to me.
Everything I had worked toward had come together to give birth to Mary’s Marvelous.
It was finally my chance to share the food I wanted to make. My recipes. My kitchen. My heart. The soups, cakes, muffins, cookies, and treats that, unbeknownst to me, would become part of people’s daily lives.
Pat was a tremendous force behind the opening of Mary’s Marvelous, leading the renovation of the space and willingly stepping into that uncertainty beside me.
I wasn’t carrying it alone that first day. Thankfully, the team I had assembled around me helped get my wobbly knees moving as we unlocked the doors and stepped into the thing I had dreamed into being.
We had already missed Memorial Day trying to get construction finished and equipment in place, so opening by Fourth of July weekend felt absolutely critical. We had invested so much money building Mary’s Marvelous, and at that point, I needed to see people walking through the door and money landing in the cash register.
We had to open.
There was just one problem.
Much of the equipment I’d bought for the store was used, including our giant beverage and salad case, which we had packed full for opening day. The grab-and-go sandwich case was loaded, too.
Both units lost power the morning we opened.
On the Fourth of July weekend.
Suddenly, we were scrambling to drag tables onto the floor, fill giant tubs with ice, and pile them high with sandwiches, salads, and drinks, trying desperately to keep everything cold before customers arrived.
It was hot, chaotic, stressful, and wildly imperfect.
And we opened anyway.
And to be honest, the shop itself was far from polished that day.
My friend John, who owned a beautiful design and furniture shop down the street and had been hugely supportive of Mary’s Marvelous, was appalled when he saw the space on opening day. Sparse windows. Bare spots. Looking back at photos now, I can understand why some people probably walked in wondering what exactly I was trying to pull off.
But I had to open.
Years later, when I opened the second store, the experience was entirely different. That space sparkled from day one. Architects, builders, designers, custom cabinetry, painters, tile work — the whole thing professionally orchestrated.
This first store, though, was built more on instinct, determination, borrowed money, and sheer momentum. It was the place I began.
Over time, my fear, although a steady player, became less visceral as I learned to be a brand-new business owner.
The Hamptons’ seasonal nature can feel exhilarating one moment and terrifying the next. I was constantly juggling responsibilities, payroll, and inventory, telling myself to trust that it would somehow work out.
And from the very beginning, I knew Mary’s Marvelous was never something I was building alone.
A whole constellation of people helped bring a tiny, improbable thing into existence that would eventually become meaningful to a community.
Friends painted walls. Family loaned money. People showed up to build, cook, carry, encourage, clean, renovate, serve customers, and help me keep going through the lean and uncertain moments.
And although the cast changed over the life of the store, every person who stepped into the rhythm of Mary’s felt integral to it. Some stayed for years. Some moved on gracefully. Some vanished without notice. Some had to be let go. But I valued deeply the people who agreed to build that life alongside me, even for a season.
This kind of business requires a constant coordinated human effort.
And while we were busy baking muffins, icing cakes, making soups, and rushing through breakfast lines, life itself was unfolding inside those walls.
That moved me every single day.
Because food is never just food.
Food gathers us. It softens hard days, celebrates milestones, comforts grief, and nourishes families, friendships, and communities. Sometimes a bowl of soup or a slice of cake says the very thing words cannot.
For twenty years, I watched that happen across the counter at Mary’s Marvelous.
I think that’s why I loved it so much.
From my table to yours,
Mary