The first week of February passed into the second. Throckmorton, Captain Eugene, Sir Rudyard, and Miss Beatrice had less time to socialize as Annaliese spent more time awake.
It was Sunday, they heard Miss Pine say. The aunties had gone back to their own homes, leaving long lists of things for her, Mrs. Wiggins, and the recently hired help to do. The judge’s seven sisters planned to return in a few days, on Thursday, with their families in tow, to oversee the final party preparations.
Once again, Annaliese asked Miss Pine if she could go visit Great-Grandmama. Once again, Miss Pine said no.
“You’re not strong enough. And your great-grandmother is under the weather as well.”
Miss Pine had good reason to be concerned.
Annaliese’s pale skin resembled frosted glass. She’d coughed so hard and so often that she’d injured her ribs. She dressed each morning, but was still too weak to take her meals downstairs. Mrs. Wiggins brought up a tray, but most of the food remained on her plate, skillfully rearranged.
Worry nibbled away at Throckmorton’s soft stuffing.
Great-Grandmama’s birthday party was less than a week away. What if his keeper wasn’t well enough to attend?
And then, unbeknownst to anyone else, Madge hinted to Annaliese that the severity of Great-Grandmama’s medical condition was being swept under the carpet.
“How bad is she?” Annaliese asked in a terror-stricken tone of voice.
“Who knows?” said Madge slyly. “But we hope she pulls through; otherwise Her Highness’s birthday party ball might turn into an awfully fancy funeral.”
Oh, how Throckmorton hated that lazy maid. . . .
On Monday afternoon, Evan and Teddy burst into Annaliese’s bedroom. “A ten-piece orchestra called the Bird Land Big Band will be playing at the party,” Teddy announced. “Great-Grandmama hired them and it’s costing a fortune.”
“But here’s the big news,” said Evan. “We just found out! The aunties made up a new rule—but they forgot to tell us.”
“A new rule?” Annaliese asked.
“We have to come to Great-Grandmama’s party in costumes.” Evan wrinkled his nose. “How dumb is that?”
Evan imitated his Aunt Petra’s hands-on-hips stance and snippy tone of voice. “Our sock monkeys have costumes, why shouldn’t we? Why should they have all the fun?”
Not all the sock monkeys have costumes, Throckmorton wanted to say. He didn’t, and neither did Miss Beatrice.
“That’s not the only reason,” said Teddy. “Aunt Priscilla told me that our relatives from the Midwest are dreadfully dull. Costumes will liven things up.”
Evan grinned at Teddy. “Maybe Uncle Fred will spike the punch.”
“Liven things up?” Annaliese sputtered. “Madge told me that Great-Grandmama was dying.”
“Nonsense!” Teddy laughed. “She’s got a bad cold, that’s all.”
Annaliese’s face brightened. “Really? A bad cold—that’s all?”
Teddy nodded.
“Still,” she said after a few moments, “it’s Great-Grandmama’s birthday party—not a costume party. It’s Valentine’s Day—not Halloween.”
Teddy agreed. “Mrs. Wiggins warned them: ‘Great-Grandmama isn’t going to like this.’ Aunt Petra wouldn’t budge. ‘Nonsense. . . . We’ll surprise her. She’ll love it!’ ”
“Not a chance,” said Evan. “Great-Grandmama expects everyone to play by her rules—they ought to know that by now.”
Throckmorton was appalled. Suddenly it seemed as if their keepers were more important than the sock monkeys themselves.
Hadn’t the party invitation been addressed to him, not Annaliese? To Miss Beatrice, not the judge?
On the other hand, he figured that if everyone was coming in costume, then Annaliese would also have to find him something special to wear, wouldn’t she?
He imagined how splendid he’d look dressed as a distinguished knight in shining armor or a French painter with a palette, brush, and black beret.
“What are you going to wear?” Annaliese asked Teddy.
“I’m going to be a pirate who’s looted Captain Eugene’s ship.”
“How about you, Evan?”
“It’s a surprise,” he answered with an evasive smile.
Just then Miss Pine glided into the room, eyes shining and cheeks flushed. “Annaliese,” she said, “I’ve decided to make Miss Beatrice an outfit for Great-Grandmama’s party.”
“A Scottish girl, right and proper.” Miss Pine drew Miss Beatrice into her arms. “Plaid, I think. With a tam. And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow that sewing basket.”
Great-Grandmama’s chintz-lined wicker basket, along with a get-well card, had been delivered to Annaliese a few days earlier.
“Sure, okay, I guess.”
As Miss Pine whisked out of Annaliese’s bedroom, a piece of folded paper fluttered to the floor.
Evan snatched it up. “What’s this?”
Annaliese snapped to attention. “It’s mine! Give it to me.”
Evan unfolded the note.
“I would like you to have this,” he read aloud. “Perhaps someday you’ll decide to keep my sock monkey legacy alive. Please get well and don’t worry. Guard our secret and someday your story will have a happy ending.”
“What story?” Evan demanded.
“None of your business.”
“You’ve always been lousy at keeping secrets, Annaliese,” he reminded her. “I’ll get it out of you one way or another.”
“No you won’t. Not this one,” Annaliese retorted.
“Knock it off, Evan.” Teddy snatched the note and flipped it to his sister. He scooped up Captain Eugene and then pressed Sir Rudyard into Evan’s chest. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll race you to the kitchen. Winner gets the leftover piece of cherry pie!”
* * *
On Wednesday, Miss Pine returned the sewing basket to Annaliese. She brought all three sock monkeys along.
“Your father just phoned,” she told Annaliese. “He’s in Portland. He and your grandmother will be back from London late tomorrow night.”
Miss Pine had freshened up Miss Beatrice’s sock covering, repaired her eyelashes, and restitched her smile. Miss Beatrice’s new clothes, she explained, were the colors of the Easterling coat of arms.
Captain Eugene’s peacoat was brushed and the tiny brass buttons polished to a glossy luster. Sir Rudyard’s bow tie was crisply knotted and his white shirt, paisley vest, and herringbone slacks freshly pressed.
Throckmorton was on fire. . . .
Didn’t Annaliese understand how desperately he wanted to dress stylishly for Great-Grandmama’s grand birthday party ball?
Why, it was high time to stop thinking only about herself and consider his feelings in the matter!
He was only a sock monkey. . . .
A completely unremarkable sock monkey with a yellow duck diaper pin stuck to his chest.