Later, Throckmorton would learn that Mrs. Wiggins had done everything in her power to prevent Joe from coming after Olivia.
When Joe knocked on Eastcliff’s kitchen door demanding to see his band’s soloist, the morning buns that the cook had made—rich and twisted with cinnamon and sugar—were hot out of the oven. She brewed a fresh pot of coffee, tempting Joe with a promise to tell him a few things about Olivia that he might not know. She located a map and showed him a shortcut to Cannon City.
The original limit—twenty minutes—turned into an hour or more.
By the time Joe and Mrs. Wiggins and Donald came into the ballroom, thirty-nine smiling sock monkeys sat in thirty-nine sock-monkey-sized chairs along the ballroom wall.
Only one red-heeled sock monkey remained in need of repair: Miss Beatrice. Already frayed and frail, the judge’s sock monkey had suffered greatly at the hands of the thief.
The judge and Olivia hovered above their daughter as she examined Miss Beatrice’s wounds. The cook, bandleader, bloodhound, and Great Dane formed a respectful half circle around them.
“Father, my hands are tired,” Annaliese said. “I could use some help.”
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, bending low.
“Put Miss Beatrice’s heart back where it belongs.” She handed him her needle and thread. “Then sew her arm back on.”
“All the red felt hearts are gone,” the judge told her. “Laurel—I mean, Miss Pine—and I’ve looked everywhere. We can’t find any more.”
Lost in thought, Annaliese ran her fingers back and forth across the locket’s gold chain. Unexpectedly, she undid the clasp. She dangled the necklace in front of her father.
“Miss Beatrice should have a special heart.”
The judge was caught off guard. “Well, um . . . uh, I don’t really know if . . .”
Annaliese pressed the precious locket into his hand. “I know that it would make her happy.”
“But . . . but, maybe . . .”
Not yet swayed, the judge searched Miss Pine’s face, hoping, no doubt, that she’d come up with a better solution. “After all, I think—”
“It’s a wonderful idea!” Miss Pine interjected.
Mrs. Wiggins was more than happy to put in her two cents. “Sometimes it’s best to bury the past, I always say.”
“The locket’s mine,” said Olivia. “And I can’t imagine a better place for it.”
The judge could see that the odds were stacked against him. “A fine idea,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
He gently wriggled the locket into place. “Like this?” he asked Annaliese.
“Yup.” The dimples deepened in her cheeks. “She’ll need a little more stuffing. Fill up the empty spaces . . . yes, that’s right.”
“And then?” he asked.
Annaliese handed him a few straight pins. “Then reattach her arm and stitch the seam.”
The threads at the top of Miss Beatrice’s left arm were ragged; Judge Easterling’s stitching was clumsy and painfully slow.
When he finally finished, Olivia handed him Miss Beatrice’s Scottish-style outfit. “Unless I made a mistake, this belongs to her.”
“If no one minds,” the judge said, “I think I’d like Miss Beatrice to go back to being the way she was when Great-Grandmama made her. She didn’t come with any kind of costume at all.”
“She didn’t?” asked Annaliese.
“No. And I never knew why. In those days, all the others did. When my cousins asked her name, I lied and told them that my sock monkey was a boy—a boy named Bear.”
Miss Pine put her hand over her mouth to stifle a smile.
Throckmorton smiled too.
Throckmorton and Miss Beatrice . . . a natural pair.
From the floor below came the sounds of houseguests stirring. Olivia checked the time on her watch. “Oh my gosh! We’d better hit the road.”
“Darn right,” said Joe.
“Where are you going?” Annaliese asked.
“To Cannon City,” Olivia answered. “I’m singing with the band tonight.”
Annaliese’s eyes brightened. “May I come along?” she asked eagerly.
“If you want to . . . I mean, I’d like you to, but you’d have to ask your father.”
Annaliese pulled Throckmorton into her arms as if he might bring her luck. “May I, Father?” she asked.
Throckmorton knew the answer before the judge got it out of his mouth. Even a sock monkey could understand how wary and suspicious Annaliese’s father must be.
The judge shook his head. “No.”
“Please, Ellis,” Olivia said. “Annaliese wants to go. And I want her to come. I haven’t seen her in almost nine years. It’s only one night. We’ll drive up today and I’ll bring her back tomorrow. Twenty-four hours, that’s all I’m asking.”
“I—I can’t allow . . . ,” he protested. “Surely you can’t be serious.”
Annaliese’s face fell.
One tiny, errant teardrop pinned itself on Throckmorton’s chest.
“You don’t trust me,” Olivia said. “I understand. But I promise . . .”
“Your promises aren’t worth much, Olivia,” the judge responded tersely.
Annaliese rose to her feet. “Father, do you mean that I can’t go with Mother now?” she asked. “Or that I can’t go with Mother ever?”
What could the judge say? What could he do?
Not only was his daughter a formidable presence, but she was backed by a battalion of red-heeled sock monkeys armed with the power to soften his heart.
The poor man didn’t stand a chance.
The judge hemmed.
He hawed.
And finally answered: “Not today.”
Not today? It took Throckmorton a few moments to figure out what the judge meant.
Hurrah! Huzzah!
“Not today” was the judge’s way of saying “someday.”
Someday the judge would let Annaliese go with her mother.
“I promised Great-Grandmama,” he told Olivia, “that I’d bring Annaliese to the hospital this afternoon.”
“Great-Grandmama!” Annaliese blurted. “I forgot to ask . . . Did you see her? Is she going to be all right?”
“Hopefully,” the judge replied. “She’s had a stroke. Mild, but still, at her age . . .”
“I understand about today,” Olivia said. “But I also heard you say that Annaliese may come with me another time.”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
Miss Pine, Mrs. Wiggins, and Joe exchanged looks of happy surprise.
Annaliese marched to the sidelines. She plucked Sir Rudyard and Captain Eugene out of their chairs and brought them into the fold.
“And what about Evan and Teddy?” she asked her father. “They couldn’t go today either, of course, but may they also go see Mother someday?”
“Yes.” Judge Easterling had an odd look on his face—a mixture of defeat, sadness, and perhaps relief.
“You have my word.”
Now the lineup of sock monkeys smiled their broadest smiles and cheered their loudest cheers. “Hip-hip-hooray! Not today, but someday!”
None of the humans heard their cheers, but Donald and Bailey perked their ears and howled joyfully.
Joe stepped forward. “I don’t care who comes—today or next week or next year,” he barked, “as long as we leave NOW.”
“I’ll walk Mother out,” Annaliese told her father, swinging Throckmorton by the tail.
Miss Pine lightly touched the judge’s arm.
“Life’s not always fair,” she said softly. “But sometimes, it can be fixed.”