Immy was at the kitchen table with her folders. Hortense had gotten up to get herself another glass of iced sweet tea during a commercial, so she let Louise in. “I’ve never properly thanked y’all for Amy JoBeth’s shower,” Louise gushed. “That was a bright spot in my poor girl’s life.” Immy watched from the kitchen as Louise dabbed at her eyes with a crumbled tissue. She perched on the edge of the couch. Hortense lowered herself to sit next to her. The couch groaned and threatened to give way. “Immy,” she called. “Could you bring Louise some sweet tea?” “Please,” said Drew from the floor. The Barbie funeral was over and it looked like she was playing “school” now. The napkin Marshmallow was chewing on might have been the one the children had used for the coffin. Hortense blinked. “Yes. Please, Immy.” It was still an order, no matter how she phrased it, thought Immy. She got up to get the tea from the fridge. Drew, trailed by Marshmallow, ran through the kitchen and out the back door.
