“There’s always next year, dear. I’m sure they’ll be doing The Nutcracker again.” Clarice bit into her whole-wheat toast with jelly.

“But the Nutcracker benefit is at least the kind of rat-fuck I like.”

Clarice was horrified and secretly very excited every time Barry called it that.

“I’m serious! What’s not to like? You get the Sugar Plum Fairy and all that tutu shit! Music that’s stayed in the top 100 for at least a hundred years and that tree that grows before your eyes without the help of fucking Pixar or some other CGI crap! Plus the most important people in New York and their children come to see it. Why the hell wouldn’t I rather be there than have my head up the ass of the Hong Kong stringer for Variety?”

Barry put his hand on Clarice’s rear and kissed her cheek. He loved that she was wearing the Mikimoto choker pearls he had given her for Christmas with a powder blue Ralph Lauren sweater set. Only an Italian supermarket heiress would work so hard at pulling off the look of a WASP princess. Barry Santorini considered himself a man with an eye for talent, and Clarice’s gift was class.

Clarice’s father, Dan D’Annato, started with a vegetable stand in South Philadelphia and now owned over fifty supermarkets in the tristate area. When she was six years old, Clarice’s family moved to the suburbs and bought their first Cadillac Seville. Clarice was always a good girl; she did well in school, didn’t fight with her parents, and was always pulled together. She graduated cum laude from Notre Dame with a degree in Italian. Even though her father would say, “We left that country for a reason and now I’m paying for you to study it,” he was proud that his daughter could walk into the best restaurant and order like a young contessa.

Until she met Barry, Clarice worked as a media rep for Giorgio Armani in Manhattan. Barry, who grew up in South Philly upstairs from his father’s shoe repair store, often bragged to interviewers that he was man enough to marry a classy woman and she was woman enough to give up her career for him.

Clarice happily accepted devoting her life to her family. Other Spence mothers talked about getting back to work when their children got to middle school, but Clarice believed being a good mother was a full-time job. She personally took her children to Italian classes, ballet, and Suzuki violin class. Clarice knew she was running in fancy New York circles, but in her heart she was a good suburban mom. She also knew Barry felt secure flying around the world because her first priority was their family. Just in case, however, he had her carry a beeper.

The two organizations Clarice openly gave her time to were her children’s school and the ballet. She left politics and anything remotely to do with entertainment to Barry. After all, she wouldn’t want to cochair a dinner saluting the Weinstein brothers if Barry had just rat-fucked them or vice versa.