The Supremes at Earl's All-You-Can-Eat

Chapter 12





Clarice turned around in her chair to get a good look at the newly redecorated All-You-Can-Eat. It was just before Halloween and

the restaurant was dressed up for the holiday. The windows were draped with cotton cobwebs. A garland of crepe-paper skulls

surrounded the cash register. Each table was decorated with a centerpiece of tiny orange pumpkins, gold-and-green striped gourds,

and a small wicker basket filled with candy corn. It wasn’t the prettiest display Clarice had ever seen, but it did at least

cover up that awful restaurant logo on the tablecloth.

No matter how she felt about the new logo, it was clear that this affront to her sensibilities wasn’t going anywhere anytime

soon. The kids from the university had discovered Little Earl’s T-shirts with the big red lips, pink tongue, and suggestive

fruits on them. Now a constant stream of young people came into the All-You-Can-Eat to giggle and buy the risqué restaurant

merchandise. Little Earl was making a small fortune.

The Supremes, Richmond, and James were all in their usual places by the front window. For Barbara Jean’s sake, they had tried

shuffling things around after Lester died—moving the men to the opposite end one week, shifting James to the center and Richmond

to Lester’s seat the next. But it was no use. The more they tried to avoid seeing it, the stronger they felt Lester’s absence.

Barbara Jean finally called a halt to the musical chairs, saying that she preferred to keep things the way they had always been.

Everyone was tired that week. Richmond yawned every few minutes—which was no surprise to Clarice since he’d been out all night

again. Barbara Jean hadn’t been fully awake since Lester died. She pretended that she was okay, but her mind wandered constantly

and Clarice always had the feeling when she talked to her that Barbara Jean was only half there. James had been sleepy since

childhood. And Odette actually fell asleep at the table that afternoon.

Clarice was exhausted from having spent most of the night playing the piano. She had begun to rely on music to get her through

those nights when Richmond did his disappearing act. Instead of sitting up stewing over where her husband was, she had taken to

playing the piano until she was too worn out to think. The previous night Clarice had begun playing Beethoven sonatas at midnight,

and the next thing she knew she was underscoring Richmond’s arrival home at six in the morning with an angry fugue. Now her

fingers ached and she could hardly lift her arms.

She poked Odette on her shoulder with her fork and said, “Wake up. You’re starting to snore.”

Odette said, “I wasn’t sleeping. And I certainly wasn’t snoring. I never snore.” James heard her say that and let out a snort.

“I heard every word you said. You were talking about how you surprised yourself yesterday with how much Beethoven you could still

play from memory. See, I was listening.”

“I finished telling that story ten minutes ago, Odette. Since then I’ve just been watching you sleep. Are you feeling okay?”

Odette sidestepped Clarice’s question. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Work is really taking it out of me. The children get unrulier

every year. And the parents, well, they’re just impossible. It seems like all the kids are on some sort of restricted diet that

their parents have to come in and explain to me. And you’d better believe they make sure I know they’ll sue me and the school

district, too, if their little darlings ever get near a peanut or a grain of refined sugar. It’s like they were bred in a lab

somewhere, all of them allergic to this and intolerant of that. And try keeping those kids from trading candy loaded with

chocolate and nuts this close to Halloween. It’s enough to drive you crazy.”

Barbara Jean said, “The kids haven’t changed, Odette, you have. You’re getting old.”

“Thank you both. It’s such a joy to come have Sunday supper and find out I’m a decrepit old woman who snores. Why I continue to

hang out with you witches I will never understand.”

Clarice laughed and said, “You hang out with us because we’re the only ones not too scared of you to tell you that you snore and

that you’re old. But don’t feel bad about it. We’re all in the same boat.”

At the other end of the table Richmond said, “Now that is a nice car.”

Everyone turned and saw the car Richmond was admiring. It was a steel-gray Lexus, polished to perfection, with windows tinted so

dark you couldn’t see who was behind the wheel.

No one spoke, each person at the table feeling the absence of Lester 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 saying a word of

hello to anybody—that was so like her—she started talking.

“I figured I’d catch you here. I’ve got wonderful news. Guess what it is.” Clarice was about to say that she couldn’t

possibly guess what her cousin’s news was when Veronica yelled out, “Sharon’s getting married!”

Clarice said, “Congratulations. I didn’t even know she was seeing anybody.”

“It was a whirlwind romance. She met him four weeks back and the two of them hit it off right away. And here’s the amazing

thing, it was all foretold. I went to see Miss Minnie for a reading last month, and she told me that Sharon would meet a man and

fall in love that very week. And wouldn’t you know it, she met the man of her dreams at church the next Sunday.” She wrinkled up

her nose at Clarice and said, “That’ll teach you to doubt Miss Minnie’s powers. She hit the nail right on the head with this

one. He was just who she described to me, tall, handsome, well-dressed. I took one look at him and told Sharon, ‘Go introduce

yourself. That man is your future husband.’ A few dates later, she was asked to become Mrs. Abrams.”

Veronica had been a true believer in Minnie’s abilities since she’d gone to see her for the first of many readings a few years

earlier. Clarice was convinced her cousin went to see Minnie that first time for the specific purpose of getting under Clarice’s

skin, since Veronica knew full well how Clarice felt about the fortune-teller. At that reading, Minnie predicted that Veronica’s

husband, Clement, would have an accident of some sort. As it happened, Clement ended up in the hospital that same day after

injuring himself at work. That was all the proof Veronica needed. Now she took everything Minnie said as the complete gospel

truth. Clarice had reminded her, as nicely as she could, that predicting an accident for Clement wasn’t such an impressive feat.

He worked construction and, being a blithering idiot, he sliced, punctured, or burned himself on a weekly basis. It was the

inevitable result of putting that fool in the same room with band saws, nail guns, and blowtorches. You didn’t have to have

second sight to see it coming. But Veronica was convinced that fate, having already showered her with much-deserved cash, had now

provided her with her own oracle to go along with her imagined social prominence, and she wasn’t hearing anything to the

contrary.

Richmond said, “Sharon’s marrying Ramsey Abrams’s boy?” When Veronica nodded yes, Richmond looked right and left to see if

anyone was within earshot and then whispered, “I don’t want to talk bad about the boy, but does Sharon know about the stuff with

him and the ladies’ shoes?”

“Not that Abrams boy,” she snapped. “Sharon’s marrying the other brother.” Clifton, the Abrams boy now engaged to Sharon, had

spent his teenage years getting stoned and committing petty theft. As an adult, he had spent more time in jail than out. It seemed

likely to Clarice that, if the Abrams boy had proposed to Sharon, it was because he was trying to get his hands on her mother’s

money before it ran out.

When no one said anything, Veronica seemed to guess what was on all of their minds. She added, “Clifton’s changed. Been saved by

the Lord and the love of a good woman.”

Veronica looked over at Minnie’s fortune-telling table. “I was hoping to catch Miss Minnie between appointments to get a quick

reading. I want to find out what her spirit guide says before I pick the wedding date. I told Sharon I’d take care of all the

plans so she can concentrate on losing weight. I want her to look just like her sisters did at their weddings.”

Clarice said, “That’s so sweet of you,” but she thought something else. She thought of how Sharon’s older sisters were two of

the ugliest women she had ever seen, having inherited their mother’s heavy brow and too-close eyes and their father’s huge ears

and sunken chin. Thin as the older girls were, Veronica would be doing her youngest no favor by making her look like her sisters.

The door opened again and Minnie McIntyre, draped in a black cape with dozens of silver eyes pasted all over it, swaggered into

the All-You-Can-Eat. Since her husband’s funeral she had taken advantage of Little Earl’s soft heart and guilted him into

allowing her to do Sunday readings. Of course, he was also less concerned about offending his more conservative customers than he

had been before, now that his All-You-Can-Eat merchandise was such a big hit with the college crowd.

Veronica said, “I’m glad you’re here, Miss Minnie. I was hoping you had a few minutes free today.”

Minnie didn’t answer Veronica. She turned to the occupants of the table and said, “I suppose y’all have heard about my latest

prediction coming true. Charlemagne has opened the gates to the world of shadows to me now that he knows I’ll be coming to join

him soon.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked toward heaven the way she always did now when she talked about her

approaching death.

Clarice couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. Minnie saw her, and she looked for a moment as if she might punch Clarice.

But just then, a woman waved at her and called her name from the client chair at Minnie’s table. Minnie said, “Veronica darlin’

, I’ve got this one readin’ to do and I can help you right after.”

She took two steps away in the direction of her table, but then turned around, forcing her cape to swirl dramatically around her.

She said, “You know, Clarice, I had a vision last night that I was all set to tell you about. I saw Richmond embracing you on a

foggy beach, and I was sure that there was a romantic journey in your future. Funny thing is, when the fog cleared up, I saw that

the man in my vision was Richmond, but the woman wasn’t you. Isn’t that strange?”

She stood there grinning, both she and Veronica waiting to see how Clarice would respond. But Clarice didn’t tear up or even do

Minnie the honor of casting an angry glance at Richmond, who was busy dragging a spoon across his empty plate and pretending not

to hear what was being said just a few feet away. So the fortune-teller twisted her mouth in annoyance and marched off across the

room toward her client.

Veronica raised her right arm in the air and snapped her fingers several times. When she attracted Erma Mae’s attention she

mouthed, “Iced tea.” As she seated herself in the table’s empty chair, she muttered, “And don’t take a year to bring it.”

Then she turned to Clarice and said, “I didn’t just come here to see Miss Minnie. I wanted to ask you to help me with the

wedding, Clarice. You did such a nice job on your daughter’s wedding that I thought of you immediately when Sharon got engaged.

The first thing I said to Sharon was ‘Let’s call Clarice and have her do your wedding the exact same way she did Carolyn’s,

except without the shoestring budget.’ ”

Clarice exhaled slowly, smiled, and said, “You’re a doll to think of me, Veronica. But I’m sure you and Sharon will be able to

plan a beautiful wedding without my help.”

Odette, who had been unusually quiet all afternoon, spoke up. She said, “Yes, Veronica, none of us will forget that Easter

pageant you organized over at First Baptist. It was spectacular.” Barbara Jean put her head down and covered her laughter by

pretending she was coughing. And Clarice made a mental note to buy Odette an extra nice Christmas gift for bringing up Veronica’s

Easter pageant just then.

A couple of years earlier, Veronica had played on the fears of the board at First Baptist that their Easter pageant would be

outshined by the white folks at Plainview Lutheran. The Lutherans had recently started adding some real sparkle to their Easter

show—live lambs and a candlelight processional. She promised them that, if they handed the event over to her, she would produce

an extravaganza that would leave the demoralized Lutherans hanging their heads in shame.

From the moment Veronica’s daughters started the show with an interpretive dance, the whole thing was a disaster. Veronica’s

older girls were no more coordinated than they were pretty. And poor Sharon, who had been known to become out of breath just

lifting a two-liter Pepsi bottle to her lips, got heart palpitations and had to sit down and rest in the middle of the routine.

The highlight of Veronica’s show, a dramatization of Christ’s ascension into heaven, was ruined when the winch used to carry

Reverend Biggs up into the rafters got stuck and left him dangling in a harness thirty feet in the air. It took hours for the fire

department to get him down. And the worst part was that no one had any doubt the Lutherans would hear all about the whole debacle.

Veronica slid her glass of iced tea, untouched since Erma Mae brought it to her, a few inches further away from her so she could

rest her elbow on the table as she presented her back to Odette. To Clarice, she said, “I was thinking you could come with me

tomorrow to look at invitations and some swatches for the girls’ dresses.”

Clarice didn’t want to spend an extra minute with Veronica. The holidays weren’t that far off and she would be stuck with her at

family gatherings soon enough. But she also had an awful feeling that this was a little taste of justice coming her way. She had

sought Odette’s counsel when helping to put together Carolyn’s wedding, and she had initially been sincere in asking for it.

Denise’s ceremony, which Odette had helped to plan, had been lovely. But once Clarice got going, she hadn’t been able to stop

herself from taking note of each detail of Denise’s wedding and then doing her best to ostentatiously outdo them all. Now

Veronica was asking for advice, and Clarice knew without a doubt that her cousin would one-up everything Clarice had done for her

Carolyn’s nuptials.

Clarice was reminded then of what she found most insufferable about Veronica. Her cousin had an awful way of making her look at

her own worst traits just when she didn’t want to see them. Whenever Clarice was around Veronica, she had to acknowledge that in

Veronica she saw herself. It frightened her a little to think that the primary difference between them was the moderating

influence of Odette and Barbara Jean.

Thanks to Odette stepping in again, Clarice didn’t have to commit to helping her cousin that afternoon. “Veronica,” Odette

said, “I think maybe Sharon’s ready to get back to her run.” They looked outside and saw that Sharon had left the car behind

and was moving down the block with renewed determination in her stride.

Veronica said, “You can’t keep that girl away from her jogging. I had some trouble persuading her to get with the program at

first, but now she’s devoted.”

Not a second later, Sharon veered off the street and straight into the front door of Donut Heaven bakery.

Veronica grumbled, “That girl,” and ran out of the restaurant. She hopped into her new car and drove a third of a block up the

street to the donut shop. She dashed inside and came out seconds later, dragging Sharon with her. As her mother wrestled her into

the car, Sharon cradled one of Donut Heaven’s bright pink boxes against her chest as if it were a newborn baby.

Odette cleaned the last bit of gravy from her plate with a dinner roll and said, “That woman ruins my appetite.” Then she gnawed

the gristle from the end of a pork chop bone.

They left the All-You-Can-Eat earlier than usual that day, all of them pleading fatigue. For the rest of the evening Clarice

thought about Minnie’s vision. She wasn’t becoming a convert or anything like that. She knew that it took no psychic ability to

envision Richmond with another woman. Hell, it didn’t even take a good pair of eyes. What she thought about was how peculiar it

was that having that nasty woman rub Richmond’s behavior in her face in public had hardly had any effect on her. If such an

incident had occurred a few months earlier, she’d have taken to her bed for days. But, even as it happened, the only sensation

Clarice had been aware of was a fierce desire to be alone with her piano.