right then. He would surely have taken over the conversation at that moment. Lester had loved cars. He would have said that the Lexus was okay to look at, but way too small. From the 1970s onward he complained that luxury cars were disappointing now that they’d “taken the size out of ’em.” Every year, he took a tape measure with him to the Cadillac dealer and bought the longest one on the lot regardless of color or style.
The Lexus moved forward at no more than three miles per hour. Just a few steps in front of the car, a heavyset young woman in a blue sweatshirt and blue sweatpants that were darkened to black from perspiration jogged in slow motion, struggling to lift her feet from the pavement.
Barbara Jean asked, “Isn’t that your cousin’s girl?”
Clarice said, “Yes, that’s Sharon.” The driver’s-side window of the Lexus slid down and Veronica stuck her head out of the window. She yelled something at her daughter that the spectators in the restaurant couldn’t hear.
“What on earth is Sharon doing?” Odette asked.
“I think she’s exercising,” Barbara Jean said.
Clarice said, “A big girl like that shouldn’t run. It’s suicidal.”
The car stopped and they watched as Veronica double-parked and got out. She walked up to her daughter, who stood doubled over gasping for air in the street, and wagged a finger at her. Sharon poked out her lower lip and then began to run in place in front of her mother’s car. Veronica gave her panting daughter a thumbs-up and headed toward the All-You-Can-Eat.
Odette groaned. “Oh, Lord, not her. Your cousin is the last thing I want to deal with today.”
Odette had longed to strangle Veronica since 1965. But she had resisted the impulse, for Clarice’s sake. Clarice didn’t feel much fondness for Veronica, but they were blood. She was stuck with her, in spite of the fact that her cousin had been a thorn in her rear as far back as Clarice could remember. And now she was worse than ever, the perfect example, Clarice thought, of what happens when a pile of cash gets thrown on top of a raging blaze of ignorance.
Veronica’s family had been the last of the Leaning Tree old-timers to sell out to the developers and it paid off big for them. Given half a chance, Veronica would expound for hours about what a visionary her father had been for holding out the way he did. The truth was, Veronica’s father hated his wife so much that he preferred to keep the family poor rather than sell the property and see her live comfortably. Like Clarice’s mother and many of the devout women of her generation, Clarice’s aunt Glory had believed divorcing her husband and taking her rightful half of everything he owned would buy her a trip to hell, so her husband knew he had her stuck. He planned to torture her with his presence for decades. What he didn’t plan on was dropping dead of a heart attack in the middle of one of their nightly arguments. Glory skipped her husband’s funeral service to meet with a real estate lawyer. She moved next door to her sister Beatrice in an Arkansas retirement village a week later.
Now Glory, Veronica, and Veronica’s family were all living off the big chunk of money that they had received for the property, which Clarice hoped Veronica thanked the Lord for every night since she was married to a man who was borderline retarded and couldn’t feed a bowl of goldfish, much less an entire family, on the piddling amount of money he made. Of course, like most of the poor folks from Leaning Tree who had lucked into the first real money of their lives when they sold their land, Veronica’s clan of morons were burning through the money as quickly as they could. Clarice had no doubt Veronica would show up on her doorstep pleading for a handout sometime in the near future.
Veronica had a distinctive walk that was characterized by rigidly straight legs and jerky movements. She took fast, short steps—not quite running, not quite walking. Just the sight of her cousin trotting toward the window table that afternoon made Clarice ache to slap Veronica with her open palm. But instead of slapping her, Clarice said, “Veronica, darling, what a lovely surprise.” Then the two of them made kissing noises at each other.
Clarice prepared herself to hear Veronica brag about her new car, but Veronica had other fish to fry. Without