“It’s all I got.”
He shook his head angrily. Ibby thought he was going to get into a fistfight with Doll, but he turned and ran down the driveway, disappearing into the night as fast as he’d come.
T-Bone and Birdelia came in through the back door just as Queenie barreled into the kitchen carrying an empty chafing dish. She set the dish down and yanked Birdelia’s arm. “Come on over here and help me fill this tray. Where’s that daughter of mine?”
Doll came in the back door, perspiring heavily.
“What you doing out back, Doll?” Queenie asked.
“Had to get rid of something, that’s all,” Doll said.
As Doll sat down at the kitchen table, Ibby noticed her hands were shaking as she straightened her hairpiece.
“Doll, something you want to tell me?” Queenie asked.
“No, Mama.”
“You sure?” Queenie eyed her. “Why you sweating? You never sweat.”
“Just a hot night, Mama, that’s all.”
Queenie turned to T-Bone. “Crow ain’t feeding Miss Fannie bourbon, is he?”
He shook his head. “Miss Fannie ain’t the one you need to be worrying about. You seen that nun? She’s out there pounding them old-fashioneds.”
“The last thing we want to do is overserve a nun. Don’t want no trouble tonight.” Queenie shook her head. “T-Bone, get on in there and make sure that don’t happen. Do something to liven up the party.”
“What you want me to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know”—Queenie handed a tray to Birdelia—“but think of something quick. The last time I looked, Mr. Waguespack was doing a slow waltz with Sister Gertrude as Fannie sang a rendition of ‘You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans.’”
Birdelia followed T-Bone out of the kitchen.
Doll drummed her fingers on the table. “You know, Mama, they is something strange about that nun. She ain’t no normal run-a-the-mill nun.”
“Everybody acting all crazy tonight. Just like you. You ain’t yourself this evening. You sure they ain’t something you want to tell me?”
“No, Mama.”
“Miss Ibby, why you still in here?” She waved her hand. “Miss Fannie didn’t go to all this trouble for you to be sitting here in the kitchen.” Her head shot up when some music started playing. “T-Bone bring a piano player with him?”
“Not that I recollect,” Doll said.
“Then who’s that playing Professor Longhair?”
Ibby and Doll began snapping their fingers to the sound of “Big Chief,” a tune that in New Orleans had become synonymous with having a good time. Whenever it was played, the locals tended to get up and dance.
Doll peeked through the door. “Mama, you got to come see this. You ain’t gone believe it.”
The three of them stuck their heads through the door. Birdelia was standing at one end of the dining room table with a stack of linen napkins in her hands, passing them out to the party guests, who were fashioning them into do-rags by tying the four corners into knots and placing them on their heads. When Ibby had first seen this, at a party a few years back, she thought everybody had had too much to drink—they danced around with do-rags on their heads, waving napkins in their hands. Now she was just as likely to join right in and dance along with them.
“Look at Mr. Rainold! I didn’t know he could play the piano!” Queenie mused.
Mr. Rainold had taken off his jacket, his red suspenders dangling by his sides, as he stood, banging away at the piano. T-Bone was leading a line of napkin-headed people around the room, his trombone swinging up and down to the rhythm as Sister Gertrude brought up the rear, doing a little jig.
“Well, I’ll be,” Queenie said, watching Crow clap his hands and whistle.
Doll pulled Ibby into the dining room. As soon as Fannie saw her, she grabbed Ibby’s hand and dragged her into the second line. They danced around a good half an hour, until Queenie came into the dining room carrying the birthday cake. The crowd gathered around the table and sang “Happy Birthday” as Queenie lit the candles. Fannie raised a glass.
“To my lovely granddaughter on her sixteenth birthday.”
Ibby paused a moment, holding her breath, hoping Fannie wasn’t going to surprise her with another birthday doll.
“Well, what are you waiting on, dear?” Fannie said.
Ibby breathed a sigh of relief and blew out the candles.
It isn’t such a bad party after all, Ibby was thinking as Queenie cut the cake.
After Ibby said her goodbyes to the last guest, she stood in the hall and gazed absentmindedly through the glass in the front door.
Doll came up and stood next to her. “I can tell what you’re thinking.”
“I’m not thinking anything.”
“Yes, you is,” Doll said. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re disappointed your mama didn’t show up.”
Ibby hated how Doll could always see right through her. “No, I’m not.”