Pacific side of a California oceanfront mansion. The other changes were fashioned after Barbara Jean’s huge Victorian. She had added on a small turret, two colorfully painted front porches, and a widow’s walk. The result of the renovations was a structure that combined the worst aspects of a Southern California beach house and a San Francisco bordello. Behind her back, Clarice called Veronica’s home Barbie’s Malibu Whorehouse.
With the words “Sharon, there’s something I have to tell you,” the atmosphere of conviviality evaporated. After Clarice told Veronica and Sharon the story of finding Clifton Abrams nude with a woman in the gazebo, she was called a liar in stereo. Then Veronica began to pace the deck, her heavy footsteps echoing like hammer blows as she stalked across the redwood beams.
Veronica recited a list of offenses Clarice had committed against her over the years. She started in 1960 and worked her way forward, spelling out just how Clarice had wronged her in each decade of her life. The most heinous crime, Veronica said, had been Clarice keeping her at arm’s length while publicly embracing Odette and Barbara Jean as if they were her sisters. “It says a lot about your character, if you ask me, throwing over your own family for a foul-tempered, smartass fat girl and a whore’s daughter.”
Sharon said, “Mmm, hmm.”
Clarice knew from experience that a young woman in love could derive great comfort from sticking her head in the sand. So instead of addressing Sharon, she said to Veronica, “This relationship between Sharon and Clifton has come along pretty fast. I’m just saying that there are things she hasn’t learned about him yet, and she should learn those things before she marries him.”
Veronica shrieked, “Minnie warned me you would try to interfere with things. I bet you’ve been itching to pull this for months. You can’t stand for anybody else to be important. It always has to be about you.” She singsonged, “Clarice and her piano. Clarice and her football star.” Then she coughed out a rough-sounding laugh and said, “You’re a fine one to come around here with marriage advice. Why don’t we ask Richmond how he appreciated coming in third on your list behind the Supremes?” She put her finger to her chin, pretending to be deep in thought, “Oh yeah, that’s right, we can’t ask him. He put you out. Didn’t he, Miss Marriage Expert?”
Clarice turned to Sharon. “I really didn’t come by to upset you or cause trouble.” Sharon responded with a groan of skepticism. “The thing is, I am the expert on this. I know what it means to spend your life with a cheating man. And the only reason I’m here telling you this is that I care about you and I don’t want to see you go through what I’ve been through.”
Veronica put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side. “Because you care so much about Sharon, I won’t un-invite you to our wedding. But your services as assistant wedding planner will no longer be needed. I’ll have your wedding book back now, thank you very much.” She dramatically extended her arms and held out both hands, palms up, as if she thought Clarice had the twenty-pound book in one of her pockets and might conceivably slip it out and hand it to her.
When Clarice pointed out that she didn’t have the book on her, Veronica said, “Well, you can bring it by later. Leave it on the front stoop, if you please. I don’t think you and I need to have any further interaction.” Then she opened the sliding glass door and strode inside with Sharon at her heels.
As she disappeared into the house, Sharon called out over her shoulder, “People will be talking about my wedding for years to come.”
None of them knew then just how right Sharon was about that.
When Clarice got back to Leaning Tree, she did some work in the garden to sweat the lingering frustration from her tussle with Veronica out of her system. Then she bathed and started to cook her dinner. She cracked eggs and pulled leftover potatoes and fried onions from the refrigerator for a frittata. Since she’d been on her own, her meals tended toward that kind of thing—simple dishes that Richmond had refused to eat because of their foreign-sounding names or had rejected as “girl food” because they lacked red meat.
Clarice was whisking eggs when Richmond knocked on the front door. She saw him on the