how alike their thinking was, and seeing the similarities between them made her more and more uncomfortable as time passed.
Richmond burst into the kitchen with a wide, welcoming grin on his handsome face. He was dressed in black slacks and a maroon knit shirt that was tight enough to display the muscles he worked so hard at maintaining. He kissed his mother-in-law on her forehead and sat down next to her.
He winked and said, “Good morning, Bea. How’s the second-prettiest girl in the world doing today?”
Beatrice giggled and said, “You are a darling man, taking the time to sweet-talk an old woman like me.”
“You haven’t aged a day since I met you, and that’s the truth,” he said, gaining another giggle in reply.
To Clarice, Richmond said, “Sweetheart, I have to spend the day in Louisville with Ramsey talking to a football coach and a kid we’re scouting. Depending on how things go, I might not make it back for dinner.”
She nodded and brought Richmond his bowl of grits and a plate with two scrambled eggs and bacon. He said, “Thanks, babe,” and began to eat.
She walked across the kitchen and got the pot of coffee from the machine and brought it back to the table to pour it into his mug. Maybe it was because her mother distracted her from her task by asking about Odette’s health, or perhaps because her mind wandered off to her plans for the day, or because she caught a glimpse of the self-satisfied smirk on Richmond’s face, but the coffee Clarice poured missed Richmond’s mug entirely. Half of the pot spread onto the table and the other half splashed into Richmond’s lap. It wasn’t until he screamed, “Damn it!” and jumped up from his chair that she realized what she had done.
In a voice so high-pitched and breathless from shock that she sounded as if she had been the one doused with steaming hot coffee, Clarice cried out, “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Let me get something to wipe that off.”
He pulled the steaming fabric of his pants away from his thighs with both thumbs and forefingers. “Don’t bother. I’ve got to get out of these. Jesus Christ, Clarice.” He left the kitchen and hurried up the stairs.
Beatrice didn’t say anything to Clarice as she watched her daughter clean up the mess she had made. She just finished her cup of tea and ate her breakfast—one slice of dry toast and one poached egg, the same breakfast she’d eaten every morning Clarice could recall.
Clarice, having lost her appetite, placed the food she had planned to eat into a plastic tub and tucked it into the refrigerator along with the eggs and milk.
Richmond came down again as Clarice put the last of her breakfast away. He was wearing gray pants and an annoyed expression now. He said, “I’m running late. I’ve got to go.”
“But you’ve hardly had anything to eat,” Clarice said.
He pulled his coat from the rack by the garage door. “That’s okay. I’ll get something later.”
“Richmond, I really am sorry about the coffee.”
He blew a kiss at his wife from across the room and went through the door.
Beatrice retrieved her compact from the pocket of her red-and-green Christmas cardigan and reapplied her lipstick. Then she said, “Clarice, I think you should have a talk with Reverend Peterson. That always helped me when things were bad with your father and our little problem.”
Clarice’s mother called her father’s serial infidelities their “little problem.” It bugged Clarice to no end whenever she described it that way, but she felt that she couldn’t rightfully say anything about it. She knew it was hypocritical of her to be bothered by her mother giving Abraham Jordan’s cheating a comfortable euphemism when Clarice herself had spent decades pretending Richmond’s “little problem” didn’t even exist. But that didn’t stop her from wanting to shout at her mother to shut the hell up.
Beatrice said, “Reverend Peterson has had a lot of experience. Believe me, there isn’t a thing you can say that’ll shock him. He can help you deal with all this anger.”
“I’m not angry.”
“Clarice, what you have to concentrate on is that this is all a part of God’s plan. Sometimes we women have to suffer an unfair amount to gain the Lord’s favor. Just remember that you’re paying the toll for your entrance into the Kingdom. Reverend Peterson explained that to me years ago, and I haven’t had a moment of anger since.”