“Not much,” Ibby said.
“Doll, she say she up all night, too, listening to that tiger down at the zoo.” Queenie nodded toward the backyard, where Doll was yanking some sheets off the clothesline. “Better stay out of her way today. She gets mighty cranky when she don’t get her sleep.”
Queenie put a plate of bacon in front of Ibby and said cheerily, “So, what we gone do today? Could go on down to the poultry market off Carrollton Avenue and get a few fresh chickens. Know they fresh ’cause they wring those chicks’ necks right in front of you, then pluck ’em clean and wrap ’em up right nice so you can tote ’em home.”
Queenie was awfully talkative this morning, even for Queenie.
Ibby shook her head.
“No? Well then, we could go by the fish market over on Jefferson Highway, get some fresh she-crabs or some shrimp, and make us up some stuffed mirliton. I got some nice Creole tomatoes in the back, could make some more gazpacho.”
“I’m not really hungry,” Ibby said.
Queenie kept rambling. “Well, how about a game of bourré? I got some cards right here in the kitchen drawer. Or better yet, we can watch my stories on the TV while Doll irons the sheets.” Queenie kind of laughed at that last suggestion.
“Has the doctor called?” Ibby asked.
“No, baby. Expect it be a few more days before we hear from him.” Queenie turned to face the sink.
Ibby got the feeling there was something she wasn’t telling her. “Is something wrong?”
Queenie sat down at the table. Her happy face had vanished. “Your mama called this morning, Miss Ibby.”
“My mother? Did she wish me a happy birthday?”
“Ibby, baby, I don’t know how to tell you this.” Queenie set her eyes squarely on the floor, a sure sign she was getting ready to deliver some bad news.
Doll came in the back door and set the ironing basket on the counter. “What’s going on?”
“Her mama called a little while ago,” Queenie said.
Doll’s eyes widened. “What Miss Vidrine gone say when she finds out Miss Fannie ain’t here?”
“Don’t matter no more.” Queenie shook her head.
“What you mean?” Doll asked.
Queenie looked from Ibby to Doll and back again. “’Cause Miss Vidrine, she say she ain’t coming back.”
One morning almost two weeks later, Ibby, Queenie, and Doll were in the kitchen when they heard the front door open and close.
Fannie had returned from the hospital. She dropped her suitcase in the hall and walked into the dining room, took her usual spot at the table, and began reading the newspaper.
“I’d like some coffee!” she bellowed.
“You go on in there and take your seat at the table, pretend like nothing has happened,” Queenie said to Ibby. “You hear me? Don’t say nothing about her being in that hospital. Just go on about your business like it’s any other morning.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Ibby asked as Queenie pushed her through the door into the dining room.
“Just do what you do every morning—say hello and give her a kiss on the cheek.”
“Then what? What am I supposed to talk about?” Ibby said.
“You just follow my lead.” Queenie nudged Ibby toward Fannie.
Ibby went over to Fannie and kissed her on the cheek, then took a seat at the table. “Good morning, Fannie.”
“Good morning, young lady. How’d you sleep?” Fannie didn’t look up from the newspaper.
Before Ibby could answer, Queenie came over to serve Fannie some coffee. “What you feel like for breakfast this morning, Miss Fannie?”
“Maybe some bacon,” she said. “They make terrible bacon in that place.”
Ibby looked over at Queenie, hoping she was going to change the subject.
“Sure enough—got plenty of bacon I can fry up,” Queenie said, making eyes at Ibby.
Ibby couldn’t tell what Queenie was trying to get her to do.
“Miss Ibby, what you want?”
“Same as Fannie, I guess,” Ibby said, making eyes back.
Queenie left the room for a second, then came back in. “You want something else, Miss Fannie?”
“I have a hankering for clabber. Could you bring me some of that, too?”
“Sure thing, Miss Fannie.”
“Anything happen while I was gone?” Fannie asked to no one in particular while she was reading the paper.
Ibby looked over at Queenie.
Queenie nodded. “Might as well go on and tell her, Miss Ibby.”
Ibby glowered at her. She’d hoped she could wait a few days, until she was sure Fannie was back to her old self, before bringing up Vidrine’s phone call.
“Tell me about what?” Fannie asked.
“Miss Vidrine called,” Queenie said. “About two weeks ago.”
Fannie put the newspaper down. “What’d she want?”
“She say it be okay if Miss Ibby stay with you awhile,” Queenie said.
Ibby tightened her lips. That wasn’t exactly what her mother had said, and Queenie knew it.
Fannie’s face brightened. “How long is awhile?”