When Queenie finished, she came and sat in the pew next to Ibby. She patted Ibby on the knee. Ibby grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
Then the organist started playing “Flee as a Bird,” whereupon hundreds of white doves were let out of cages as the casket was wheeled out of the church. It was a beautiful gesture, Ibby thought as she watched the birds circle around overhead, then dart through the front doors over the heads of people leaving the church.
“Well, you knew she had to do something crazy,” Queenie said as they got in the waiting limousine.
After the service, they went to the cemetery, where Fannie was buried in the magnificent marble tomb she’d had built for herself. After the final words were said, Queenie threw in some baking powder for good measure, to make sure she rose up on Judgment Day and not the other way around.
By the time the limo pulled into the driveway at the house, people were lined up all the way down the block.
“Lawd, look at them all.” Queenie got out of the car and fussed at Crow. “Hurry up, old man. We got work to do.”
Pretty soon, there was a dull roar in the house.
Ibby didn’t feel much like talking so she made her way back to the kitchen. Queenie came in carrying an empty tray.
“What you doing in here, having your own pity party? You get on out there and greet them folks. They came ’cause of Miss Fannie,” Queenie said as she loaded up another tray with mushrooms. “You hear me? This ain’t about you.”
Queenie tugged at Ibby’s arm until she got up from the table, then she pushed Ibby into the dining room. There were so many people hovering around the table, picking at the food, that you would have thought no one had eaten for weeks. Ibby tried to squeeze past them, but a woman Ibby didn’t recognize tapped her on the shoulder and spoke to her as she stuffed boudin balls in her mouth.
“I’m so sorry about your grandmother,” she said. “She was such a fine lady.”
“Thank you,” Ibby said, brushing past her.
Mr. Jeffreys, Commander Kennedy, the Reverend Jeremiah, Sister Gertrude, Mr. Henry, Mr. Pierce—they were all there. The neighbors on Prytania Street came, as did their maids at the special invitation of Queenie. The mayor made an appearance. Even Lucy the duck lady rolled around on her skates, relegated to the front yard because Queenie wouldn’t let her in the house with her ducks.
When Ibby felt she’d spoken to everyone, she excused herself and went upstairs.
The stained-glass window looked naked without the bust of Fannie holding court in front of it. Ibby went over to the door just across from the stairs, that one that had remained locked all these years. To her surprise, when she tried the knob, it turned. She opened the door to find a bare room with a large brown stain on the floor not far from the window. Ibby decided to leave the door open.
She wandered over to the next door, to her father’s old room, and opened the door. She rubbed her hands over her arms. It had been eight years since her father died. It seemed a lifetime ago. So many things had changed since then. She let her hand linger on the knob before heading over to Balfour’s room. When she tried the handle, it was also unlocked. The room appeared to have been left untouched since the day Balfour died. There were bubblegum wrappers crumpled up on the table beside the bed, and a pair of shorts lying on the floor. Except for the spiderweb hanging from the ceiling fan, it looked as if Balfour had just gone down the hall to take a bath. She felt the room was still waiting for him, so she left the door open.
“You’re all free now,” she said.
Chapter Forty
Doll and Queenie were in the kitchen cleaning up after everyone left.
Queenie was at the sink washing dishes. “Let me ask you something, Doll. Miss Fannie, she say anything to you before she left in her car that day? You know, anything peculiar like?”
Doll dried the dishes as Queenie handed them to her. “Well, she say she thought I ought to open my own business, a dressmaking shop, but it weren’t the first time she brought that up. Why, Mama, she say something to you?”
“She said it about time I retire,” Queenie said. “Retire. Can you imagine?”
“Well, you are getting up in years, Mama. You almost seventy. And you been working since you were eleven years old.”
“What that got to do with it? How was I gone retire with Miss Fannie around?” Queenie leaned on the counter. “You think she drove off into the lake on purpose?”
Doll quit drying the dish she was holding and stared at the ground.
“You know something you ain’t telling me?”
Doll nodded.
“Spit it out.” Queenie wiped her hands on her apron.
“Mama, sit down,” Doll said.
“Just tell me.”
“No, Mama. Come sit. You’re not gone believe.”
She sat down at the table and Doll came and sat next to her. “Doll, you got that look in your eyes. She say something to you that day?”