“I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it tonight, Doll. I’ve got my European history exam tomorrow, and I’m just not ready for it yet. I’m afraid I’m going to have to skip supper.” She was feeling guilty. She knew Queenie had already prepared a big meal in anticipation of her weekly visit.
“No, Miss Ibby, I think you need to come,” Doll repeated.
Ibby held the phone out from her ear, wondering what had her all riled up. “I’m sorry but I’m really behind in my studies.”
“Miss Ibby, I need you to come on by now.”
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
There was no answer—Doll had hung up. Ibby held on to the phone receiver, thinking what an odd conversation they’d just had.
She got up from her desk and stood by the window, watching the other students that had already finished their exams heading over to Bruno’s Tavern. She wished she was one of them. She thought about what Doll had just said. Perhaps a break might do her some good. And Queenie’s courtbouillon, fried okra, and bread pudding would be just what she needed to get her through the long night of studying ahead. She slipped on her clogs and headed for the door.
When she arrived at Fannie’s house, Doll was standing on the front porch, obviously upset about something. Ibby noticed Fannie’s car wasn’t in the driveway.
“Come on in, Miss Ibby,” Doll said.
Queenie was in the front hall, wringing her hands. “We didn’t know what else to do, Miss Ibby, so we call you.”
“Where’s Fannie?” Ibby followed Queenie into the dining room, where two places were set for the evening meal.
“Miss Fannie, she went out for a drive, but she ain’t come back,” Doll said.
The grandfather clock in the hall chimed six times.
“Maybe she forgot the time,” Ibby offered. “She could just be late. You know how she gets sometimes when she drives around in that car.”
“Miss Fannie, she left the house early this afternoon. She never goes out for more than an hour or two,” Queenie said. “We kept waiting around, thinking she’d be back, but she been gone a good five hours now.”
“Besides,” Doll added, “she knows you come around for supper about this time. She’d never miss that.”
“Do you know where she went?” Ibby asked.
“She never tells us. But I know sometimes she goes out to visit the family in the cemetery,” Doll said.
“What do you want me to do, drive around and look for her?” Ibby asked.
Queenie heaved up her chest. “Yes, Miss Ibby. That might be a good idea.”
“All right then, I’ll go out to the cemetery, see if she’s there.”
“Come on, Mama. Let’s get back to the kitchen.” Doll took her mother’s arm. “Maybe she show up soon, then you can quit your worrying.”
Queenie swatted her arm. “Like you ain’t worried.”
Ibby was sure Fannie would turn up sooner or later, she always did, but by the time she reached the cemetery, the gates were locked for the evening. She drove to the racetrack, to the perfume shop, anywhere she thought Fannie might be, but after an hour she gave up. When she returned to the house, Fannie’s car was still not in the driveway.
Queenie and Doll were both waiting on the front porch this time.
“Well?” Queenie asked.
Ibby shook her head. “She hasn’t called?”
“No, Miss Ibby. Where could she be?” Queenie’s eyes began to well up.
Ibby put her arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go in the kitchen and figure it out.”
They all sat down at the kitchen table.
“Has anyone called the police?” Ibby asked.
“We didn’t want to do nothing until you got back, in case you found her,” Doll said.
“Do you have Commander Kennedy’s phone number?” Ibby asked.
“It’s in that little book Miss Fannie keeps by the telephone.” Doll pointed toward the hall.
Ibby dialed the number. “May I speak to Commander Kennedy?”
“Speaking.”
“Kennedy, this is Ibby Bell.”
“You caught me just as I was leaving. What can I do for you? How is Fannie?”
“Well, actually, that’s why I’m calling. She seems to have gone missing. She left the house this afternoon and hasn’t returned. We’re getting a little worried. You haven’t heard of any accidents or anything, have you?”
“Let me check.” Ibby could hear him scoot away from his desk. He came back on the phone a few minutes later. “I don’t see any that would correlate. Do you want me to file a report?”
Ibby hesitated. “No, I’m sure she’ll turn up. You know how she is.”
“I’ll call if I hear anything.”
Ibby put down the receiver and went back into the kitchen. She sat back down at the table, trying to appear chipper.
“What he say?” Queenie asked.
“He said there weren’t any reports of accidents, but he said he’ll call if he has any news,” she said.
Queenie set a plate in front of Ibby. “Best go on and eat. Getting pert near eight o’clock.”
Ibby picked up a fork and chewed on a piece of okra. “Tell you what. I’ll get my books and study here in case Fannie shows up. Why don’t you all take some supper and go on home? I’ll call if I hear anything.”
Queenie and Doll looked at each other.
Ibby could tell this wasn’t sitting too well with them. “No use everybody sitting around here panicking. Besides, how am I going to study with you two fretting?” she said.
“Miss Ibby’s right. Come on, Mama,” Doll said.
“I’m gone leave Miss Fannie a plate in the oven, case she do come back,” Queenie said.
After they left, Ibby finished her supper, then drove to her apartment to get her books. She half-expected to find Fannie sitting in the dining room smoking a cigarette when she returned. But when she pulled up to the house, it was dark.
Ibby went in and sat at the kitchen table. She opened her textbook, trying to get in a bit more studying, but the house was so quiet it was making her nervous. Every five minutes or so, she’d get up and look out the back window. When it got to be midnight, there was no doubt in her mind that Fannie was in trouble. Sometime during the night, she dozed off on the lumpy couch in the front parlor.
She was awakened by the sound of the back door slamming at six-thirty the next morning. Queenie came into the kitchen grumbling because the oven had been left on all night, the plate of food she’d left for Miss Fannie still in it.
“Like to have burned the whole house down,” Queenie was saying as Ibby came into the kitchen.
“Ain’t a good sign, Mama. Means Miss Fannie ain’t here,” Doll said.
“Morning,” Ibby said groggily.
“You stay up all night, Miss Ibby?”
“Most of it.” Ibby yawned.
“No phone calls?” Queenie asked.
Ibby shook her head.
“Lawd Almighty.” Queenie fell back down onto a stool.
“I really hate to leave, but I have an exam at eight. I’ll come straight back when I’m finished.” She saw the way Doll was looking at her. “Maybe I should skip it. I’ll see if I can get in touch with the professor.”
“No, no. We here in case she come home. You go on. Hope we have good news when you get back,” Queenie said.
Ibby had trouble concentrating on the exam. All she could think about was Fannie. It had been almost twenty-four hours and no news. She put down her pencil and rubbed her eyes. This was a dumb idea. She handed in her exam early and left. When she got back to Prytania Street, there was a car in the driveway, but it wasn’t Fannie’s.
As she opened the back door, she heard voices in the dining room. Queenie and Doll were sitting at the table with E
mile Rainold.
Queenie came barreling over. “Oh Miss Ibby! Miss Ibby!”
She hugged Ibby so hard she almost knocked the wind out of her. Ibby had never seen her so distraught.
Please let Fannie be all right, Ibby was praying as she took a seat at the table.
Emile reached over and put his hand on hers. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. The police found a car in Lake Pontchartrain this morning.”
Her arms fell to her sides when the gist of what he was saying slowly sank in.
Mr. Rainold paused before continuing. “There is no way of knowing for sure, but they believe Fannie may have stepped on the gas instead of the brake, accidentally plunging the car into the lake. I’m so sorry.”
Ibby imagined her grandmother looking at her watch, realizing that it was time to go home and have supper, and then hitting the gas pedal hard, the way she always did when she backed out of the driveway, only this time the car would lunge forward, hurdling over the seawall and into the water.
“Miss Ibby?” Doll said. “You okay?”
“I’m sorry.” Ibby sighed. “I was just thinking about Fannie, out there . . . all alone.” Her voice trailed off and she hung her head. Why couldn’t I have been there to help her?
“She may have had a heart attack,” Mr. Rainold said after a while. “There was no sign of struggle.”
“Where is she now?” Ibby asked, her voice almost a whisper.
“Bultman’s Funeral Home is taking care of the arrangements. She’s evidently built a sizable tomb for the family out at the cemetery.”
“Yes, I know all about that,” she said.
“As per her wishes,” he said, “there is to be a small service at the Holy Trinity Episcopal Church, then the burial for family only out at the cemetery.”
Mr. Rainold must have noticed the puzzlement in her face. Ibby had never heard Fannie mention any kind of religious affiliation.
“Fannie gave quite a bit of money to the Holy Trinity Church over the years,” he added.
No one said anything for quite some time.
“I expect the earliest the funeral can take place is Thursday. This is such a shock to all of us,” he said. “Ibby, you know I was a great admirer of your grandmother’s. She was quite a woman.”
When no one spoke, he picked up his briefcase and stood up.
As soon as he left, Ibby’s head fell into her hands and she began to sob.
Queenie came over and put her arm around Ibby. “It gone be all right, Miss Ibby.”
She sank her face into Queenie’s chest. Queenie rocked her as if she were a baby. She could hear Doll sniffling close by.
“Well, you knew she weren’t just gone die in her sleep,” Doll said after a while.
Queenie looked over at her. “Ain’t that the truth. No, not our Miss Fannie.”
Doll and Queenie always did know how to make Ibby laugh, even in the worst of times.
The next morning Mr. Rainold came back with some papers for Ibby to sign.
“Bultman’s Funeral Home has placed the obituary in the newspaper. Fannie wrote it herself years ago.” He handed a copy to her.
Ibby glanced at it. The obituary was so lengthy it must have taken Fannie years to write. It included things Ibby hadn’t known about Fannie, such as that she had a baby sister who had died when she was only three and that she’d missed a beloved dog named Max she’d found as a stray when she was eleven. Then it listed about fifty charities she’d given money to over the years. “I had no idea,” Ibby said after a while. “Fannie never mentioned these things.”
Emile Rainold nodded. “She was a very mysterious but generous woman.”
“And where did this picture come from?” Ibby asked. “I’ve never seen it.”
“She had a photographer take it several years ago. It’s quite becoming, don’t you think?” he said. “She was a handsome woman.”
Queenie came in to serve coffee.
“It says she was sixty. Did she write that?” Ibby asked, squinting over at Mr. Rainold.
“No, she had left that blank,” he said. “I had to fill in some of the final details. She didn’t have a birth certificate, so I had to rely on her word.”
“That be about right,” Queenie said. “I think she was barely eighteen when she and Mr. Norwood moved into this here house.”
“The services are planned for Thursday morning at ten-thirty,” Mr. Rainold added.
“That gone give me only two days to cook. How many you think gone come by after the funeral? Couple hundred?” Queenie asked.
“A couple of hundred?” Ibby gawked. “I thought you said she planned a small funeral.”
“Small to Miss Fannie ain’t the same thing as small to you and me,” Queenie said.
“I think Queenie’s right. Fannie knew a lot of people in a lot of different circles,” Mr. Rainold said.
“I better get started.” Queenie rushed off toward the kitchen.
“Ibby,” he said in a low voice. “Are you up to going over the will? We can wait if you like.”
She took in a breath. “We’ve got to do it sooner or later so let’s get it over with.”
“There’s not much to it, really,” he said.
As Mr. Rainold read Fannie’s last will and testament, his words were all a jumble, floating over her head. She felt as if a bulldozer had run over her, then backed up to make sure she was squished flat. Nothing was registering.
“It’s fairly straightforward,” Mr. Rainold went on. “Fannie wished for Queenie and Doll to take some memento from the house, anything they like.”
She fidgeted with the edges of her shirt. “Okay.”
“She took the liberty of paying off the remainder of your college tuition at Tulane, as well as Birdelia’s at Southern University,” he added. “So at least you don’t have to worry about that.” He put the document down on the table. “There isn’t much else left in the estate, except for this house, which she willed to you.” He pointed at various objects. “Now I see she has some things of value, such as those Drysdale paintings on the wall and all that Newcomb pottery in the china cabinet, which you could probably sell at auction.” He peered at her over his reading glasses. “And there’s about five thousand dollars in a bank account. But she never did keep much cash in the bank.”
“She never trusted banks after the Depression,” she said. “That much I know.”
He touched her hand. “I know this is all happening so fast. I’ll let you think on it. You don’t have to do anything about it now. I just wanted you to know where things stood.”
He got up and let himself out.
Ibby sat at the table for a good long while after he left. She thought about what Fannie had said after Purnell died. She said people should have proper funerals so everyone could say their last goodbyes. Fannie had spent so much of her life worrying about where she was going to be buried. In an odd way, it seemed strange that she wasn’t here to witness her own send-off.
Ibby could hear Queenie banging around in the kitchen. Whatever it was Queenie was cooking was making her hungry.
“Now, Miss Ibby, don’t you fret,” Queenie said as Ibby came into the kitchen. “We gone take care of everything. I done this so many times I could put on a funeral in my sleep.”
Ibby forced a smile. “Thank you, Queenie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Now listen, baby. This is what’s gone happen. By the time we get back from the burial, people gone be lined up at the door waiting to get in the house so they can get their fill of food and drink. They gone hang around all afternoon, and some into the night, before they take their leave. And they gone all tell you how much they adored Miss Fannie, whether they liked her or not.” Queenie gave out a light chuckle.
Ibby didn’t laugh.
“Come on, Miss Ibby. Got t
o carry on.”
Ibby looked up at her. “I just don’t feel like it right now.”
“I know you’re sad, but that ain’t the way Miss Fannie would have wanted it. She had a good life, all in all, and she loved you. That’s what you need to keep in your heart. Remember the good times. Like when that tree came through the window and Miss Fannie was trapped like a caged bird. Remember that? Remember how she looked?”
That brought a smile to Ibby’s face.
“That’s what I like to see.” Queenie patted Ibby on the back. “Now listen, I gone do all the cooking. Doll can whip up a nice black funeral dress for you. Crow can bartend. That’s about all there is to it.” She shook her head. “We sure gone miss that old lady.”
Ibby smiled again. Queenie always did refer to Fannie as “that old lady” even though Fannie was younger than Queenie.
Doll came into the kitchen. “Miss Ibby, Mr. Rainold told me to pick out Miss Fannie’s burial clothes. You care?”
“Why don’t you pick out a nice dress,” Ibby said as the doorbell rang.
“Oh, and another thing,” Queenie said as Doll hurried past them to answer the door. “I expect that doorbell gone be ringing every few minutes. The second word gets out that Miss Fannie has passed, people gone start dropping off food.”
Doll came into the kitchen holding a brown paper bag. “Mr. Rainold done sent a honey-glazed ham over. Right good-sized one, from the looks of it.”
Ibby wiped a tear from her cheek. “Before I forget. Mr. Rainold said that Fannie wanted you each to have something from the house, so take whatever you like.”
Queenie pointed toward the front parlor. “Miss Fannie, she been real kind to us over the years. Real generous. But if you don’t mind, I know Crow be delighted to take that big TV off your hands.”
“It’s yours,” Ibby said. “Doll, what about you?”
Doll wrinkled her nose in a thinking sort of way. “I believe I’d like to have me that bust of Miss Fannie that’s in the upstairs hall.”
Queenie scrunched up her face as if it were the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “What you want that ugly thing for? They a reason she put that upstairs, you know, so nobody have to look at it.”
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