Excerpt from THE SUPPER CLUB SAINTS by Claire Swinarski:
Hilary and Nathan had been divorced for four years. The first few times she’d had to meet him at the Kwik Trip parking lot to hand off Fiona, Wyatt, and Levi, she’d felt like she was going to throw up. But now, it was just another task on her never-ending to-do list two Saturdays a month. It was strange, the things you could get used to.
Nathan had to take Breathalyzers on his phone before Hilary dropped off the kids. On his phone—it felt like something out of a video game, the little app the court made him download. But it worked. Hilary usually didn’t even ask to see them anymore. He’d been sober for a couple of years, at this point. And as complicated as it made her feel, the boys were always overjoyed to go to his house.
Fiona, on the other hand, usually did what she was doing that particular Saturday afternoon.that particular Saturday afternoon.
“You’re going to have fun,” Hilary reminded her sniffling daughter. “You’re going to have something cheesy and delicious that comes in a take-out bag for dinner, and then you’re going to play Mario Kart for hours.” Hilary refused to buy the kids a game console; they lived in a town full of playgrounds and trees and a stunning lake. They didn’t need to stare at a screen. But Nathan had gotten them all Nintendo Switches for Christmas and she had to admit it was helpful when trying to convince Fiona to go with a smile.
Besides, she often used her weekends without the kids to—not “practice self-care.” She hated that phrase, self-care, with its demand for bubble baths (which always felt weirdly lukewarm to her) and manicures (who could afford to get their nails done that often?). But a breather. A moment of peace. A morning of sleeping until she damn well pleased, only rising out of bed when her stomach was grumbling too loudly for her to hear whatever camper-life YouTuber she was watching at the moment. Why, she had no idea, since the thought of living in a tiny camper with her children made her want to flee the state.
The space it gave her art didn’t hurt either. Nathan gave her both the trauma that beautiful art sprang from and now, the time to create it. While they were married, he’d often put “your art” in air quotes. Not with his actual fingers, but with his words. His tone of voice, when she asked for a Saturday afternoon. Can’t we do something together as a family? What, like go to the beach, where she would pack every single thing and wiggle the kids into swimsuits and remember the SPF so he could drink a beer in the sand and fall asleep?
But not this weekend. This particular Saturday evening, she had somewhere to be.
Nathan’s Ford Explorer was patiently waiting in the parking lot. Well, look at that—on time and all. The boys launched out of the car and into his arms while Fiona gave her a final tearful hug.
“You can call me whenever you want to, like always,” Hilary promised. “Just ask Dad.”
“We’ll have fun, won’t we, kiddo?” Nathan said with a tight smile. Hilary felt the old urge she always did, the urge to smooth over the problem and assure him that of course, Fiona can’t wait, she’s so excited. The urge to spare Nathan from any pain or discomfort or sadness. To make his life as smooth as the lake on a flat, sunny day.
But look where that had gotten them. Fiona was not excited. She did not want to go. But she had to, because of which? Nathan’s stupid choices or Hilary’s filing for divorce? Neither. Both. A judge with a peanut butter stain on her blouse, signing important papers like the Queen of Sheba.
After three quick kisses and a reminder to Nathan about Fiona’s nighttime retainer, she got back into her car and sped toward her mother’s house.
She couldn’t even listen to a podcast, or a Taylor Swift song she’d heard a thousand times. She rolled down her window and listened to cars whizzing by, on their way to shop at the pottery stores in town or to grab some cheese curds.
Port Holcomb, Wisconsin, wasn’t much. A classic Wisconsin town with five thousand people and a Main Street dotted with bars and frozen custard shops. It had St. Thérèse the Little Flower, which was one of the oldest churches in the diocese, and the Baumhaus, which was built by her very own great-grandfather in 1949. It had a Taco Bell, which Port Holcombians had thrown a fit about before realizing their love for Crunchwrap Supremes, and a Culver’s, which everyone begrudgingly accepted because it may have been a chain but at least it was a Wisconsin one. The best part of Port Holcomb was the rocky, secluded strip of Lake Holcomb beach, instead of the crowded Lake Michigan one. Hilary liked to go there and sketch on her child-free weekends. But today, she drove past the turn without so much as a glance.
Excerpted from THE SUPPER CLUB SAINTS by Claire Swinarski. © 2026 by Claire Swinarski, used with permission.
A Novel of Sisterhood, Forgiveness, and the Complexities of Modern Motherhood
A dynamic, honest, and beautifully written novel about a young mother who returns to her small-town Wisconsin home after living in a cult-like “Mommune,” and what happens with the other women in her family as they each navigate the constraints, complexities, and joys of modern motherhood.
Cass Simon never expected to return to small-town Wisconsin—not after escaping life inside a cult-like “Mommune” and falling under the spell of an online mom-fluencer. But with nowhere left to turn, she finds herself back under her family’s roof, carrying more questions than answers about what it means to be a mother.
Waiting for Cass is her own mother, Remy—hardworking matriarch of the Baumhaus supper club. Remy’s love for her children is fierce but tangled with old grief and the fear of letting go, especially as she prepares to say goodbye to the family business that has anchored them for generations.
Beside them stands Hilary, Cass’s older sister—an artist and devoted mother whose divorce has shaken her belief in herself; and Erin, a Simon by marriage, who is quietly battling heartbreak as she struggles to find gratitude for a pregnancy that both terrifies and redeems her. Each of the Simon women pursues her own vision of motherhood: Cass’s instinct for protection after trauma, Remy’s hope to be a harbor her daughters can always return to, and her sisters’ hard-won wisdom about letting go of perfection.
Set against the backdrop of a vibrant, sometimes claustrophobic Wisconsin town, this dynamic and beautifully honest novel explores forgiveness, the bonds—and boundaries—of family, and the deeply personal journey of discovering what it truly means to be a “good mother.”
Women's Fiction Friendship [ Avon, On Sale: May 5, 2026, Trade Paperback / e-Book / audiobook, ISBN: 9780063426245 / eISBN: 9780063426252 ]
Claire Swinarski is the Edgar Award-nominated author of multiple books for both kids and adults. Her writing has been featured in The Washington Post, Seventeen, Milwaukee Magazine, and many other publications. She lives in small town Wisconsin with her husband and three kids, where she writes books, wears babies, and wrangles bread dough.
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