“Are you worried about the money if you retire?”
“Oh, no, baby. It ain’t about money. Miss Fannie, she took real good care of us. She took care of you, too, in her own way.”
“‘In her own way’—that’s a good way of putting it.”
Queenie shook her head. “No, baby, you don’t understand. After your daddy passed, Miss Fannie was afraid Miss Vidrine might have plans to move into the house and take over. That was one thing she swore she’d never let happen. So the day you arrived, she came up with a plan to make sure your mama wouldn’t get her hands on any of your inheritance.” Queenie opened the drawer to her bedside table and pulled out a pair of scissors. “Now, hand me that doll.”
She lifted up the doll’s dress, put the sharp end of the scissors into the fabric, and jerked down until the doll split open.
Ibby gasped. “What are you doing?”
“Where you think all your grandmother’s money disappear to?” She pushed her hand inside the doll and began to pull out wads of cash. “She hid everything in here, up until you turned of age. That way no one could take it away from you.”
Ibby’s mouth fell open. “They always did have an odd smell about them. It was the money!”
“We held our breath all those years, afraid you gone figure it out, but after a while, when you quit paying attention to them dolls, we didn’t worry about it no more. So like I said, Miss Fannie done took real good care of you.”
“Who came up with the idea of making dolls?”
“Miss Fannie never did trust banks. You know that. She hid most of her money in the walls, or in boxes in her closet, or anywhere else she could think of. She knew Doll could sew something right pretty for you. So she had her make them dolls.”
“How much is there?”
“My recollection? Pert near a hundred thousand dollars each doll,” Queenie said. “And that don’t even count the jewelry and stock certificates she got tucked in here.” She pulled an envelope from the doll and handed it to Ibby. “Miss Fannie invested in the oil business early on. Believe those stock certificates for Esso worth a fortune.”
“I want you to keep some of it.” Ibby pushed the pile of money her way. “It’s only fair.”
Queenie pushed it back. “That’s your inheritance, Miss Ibby. We done just fine by Miss Fannie. Bought us this house. Gave Crow that car. Doll’s been talking about opening her own dress shop for years—she even got a spot picked out over on St. Claude Avenue. Miss Fannie gave her the money to do that a long time ago, she just never got around to it. And Birdelia, she’s in college. First one in the Trout family to earn a college degree! Imagine that! And T-Bone? He’s off doing what he always wanted to do, playing music all over the world. No, Miss Ibby. We don’t need that money.”
Ibby wiped a tear from her cheek.
“No need for tears, Miss Ibby. But there is one more thing. Miss Fannie made me swear not to tell you as long as she was alive. Well, she ain’t here no more, God bless her soul, and it’s about time you knew the truth. Remember the night you found us in that hole in the front yard looking for them bones?”
“Of course I do. You told me the story of Muddy.”
Queenie squeezed her hand. “That weren’t the end of the story, baby.” Queenie went on. “You remember how I told you Miss Fannie locked herself in her room after Mr. Norwood fell into the river? I came to the house every day after that, talked to her through the bedroom door, left meals for her. And every day I’d come back to find the empty tray outside her door. This went on for a long time, baby. Months. Until one day I heard screams coming from Miss Fannie’s room. The neighbors, they probably thought she was just having one of her spells. But I could tell this was different.”
The first thing Queenie smelled when she opened the back door was the metallic scent of blood. She rushed down the hall to Fannie’s bedroom door and banged on it. When there was no answer, Queenie tried the handle. To her surprise, it was unlocked. When she opened the door, she found Fannie in bed, lying on her back. Even with the sheets pulled up, there was no missing that big belly.
“Lawd, Miss Fannie. Why you never say nothing?”
When Queenie threw the covers back, she found Fannie covered in blood. She suspected the reason Fannie was in so much pain was that the baby was breech. She knew she needed to do something quickly or she was going to lose both Fannie and the baby. She hurried to the bathroom, grabbed some towels, and soaked a washcloth in some warm water.
When she came back into the room, she placed the folded washcloth on Fannie’s forehead. “Here, Miss Fannie. Hold this on your forehead. Make you feel better.”
Fannie grabbed it and threw it onto the floor.