in the pool of water beneath the statues’ feet was malfunctioning. The light flickered on and off and made it appear as if the statues were quivering.
A voice said, “Hard to look away, ain’t it?” I turned and saw Thelma McIntyre standing next to me. Ever the lady, Miss Thelma was dressed for her husband’s funeral in a tasteful black mourning dress. Her face was covered by a veil.
I nodded in agreement, but didn’t say anything out loud to Miss Thelma. I had decided as soon as Mama left my house that first night that I was going to keep any ghost sightings to myself. I didn’t want to put James through what we had all gone through with Mama, her driving us to distraction by keeping up an almost constant dialogue with one invisible friend or another. Also, I was perfectly happy to do without everybody thinking I was out of my mind and giving me that poor thing, she can’t help it smile that the local folks had given my mother after word got around that she thought she was talking with the dead.
Another voice called out, “Over here, Odette” from the direction of the dining room. I turned, half expecting to see another dead friend. Instead, I saw Lydia, Big Earl’s daughter, waving me over to a ten-foot-long table of food that sagged under the weight of countless covered dishes. With Miss Thelma tagging along, I brought my addition to the feast to Lydia in the dining room.
While I helped Lydia shift things around to make room on the table for my platter, James declared himself starving and began to pile food onto a plate. Mama, Big Earl, and a well-dressed white woman who I didn’t recognize right away made their way through the crowded room toward Miss Thelma and me. People stood shoulder to shoulder in the room, but Mama and her friends glided across the space easily, squeezing between the guests in a way that made them appear to blink in and out of sight like Christmas tree lights.
When she got to the food table, Mama started to count. “One, two, three, four, five, six. That’s six hams. Two smoked, two baked, a boiled, and a deep-fried. Very impressive.” Mama was of the generation that believed you showed your respect for the deceased with a tribute of pork. She turned to Big Earl, who seemed to be genuinely moved by the pork shrine in his dining room, and said, “Six hams. Earl, you were truly loved.”
Just then, Lydia pulled the foil off the dish I had brought. She bent over and took a long, deep sniff. She said, “Mmm, honey walnut glazed and spiral cut. Bless your heart.”
Mama yelled, “Seven!” and Big Earl appeared to blush a little bit.
I realized that Barbara Jean and Lester were at the other end of the table when I heard Barbara Jean slap her husband’s hand and say, “Stop right there. Strawberries make your throat close up.” He received another slap when he reached for a different fruit platter and had to be warned about the countereffects of citrus on his ulcer medication.
Mama asked, “Has Lester been sick?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. Asking if Lester was sick was like asking if it was likely the sun would come up in the morning. His vital organs had gone into a state of semi-retirement ages ago. I was surprised that Mama had forgotten.
Seeing my reaction, Mama said, “I know he’s been sick. I meant has he been extra bad off?” She pointed toward Lester as he and Barbara Jean sat down next to James in the living room. The strange white woman, who had just moments earlier been standing beside Mama and Big Earl, had followed Lester to his chair. She stood next to him, studying him closely as he began to eat his wife-approved plate of food. Mama said, “It’s just that she’s not usually interested in people unless they’re about to pass over. She hovered around your daddy for an entire month before he died.”
I recognized the woman then and let out a little squeak in spite of myself. Standing there in the living room in her fox stole was the regal former first lady, Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Mrs. Roosevelt. She moved in with my mother right after Daddy passed, so I heard about her antics nearly every day during the last nineteen years of Mama’s life. And I had