The next morning, Melody called Nick to give him the good news.

“Mrs. McKenna?” he cried. “You lucky duck!”

“I know,” said Melody, “I still can’t believe it. I’ve been pinching myself so much my arms are covered with bruises.”

“Wait,” said Nick. “So if your dad is in love with Mrs. McKenna, then who is Miss Hogan marrying?”

“Who cares?” said Melody. “As long as it isn’t my father.”

“Tell your dad congratulations, and tell him I’m sorry I ralphed on his couch, too. And, Bishop?”

“Yeah, Woo?”

“I’m glad you don’t have to move to Siberia.”

“Me too,” said Melody.

There was one other person Melody wanted to tell. She went to look for her father and found him in his office, grading papers.

“Hey, Dad,” she said, sticking her head in the door. “Nick and I pulled out twenty-five dandelions on Saturday. Can you think of anywhere I could buy a nice candy dish for a dollar and twenty-five cents?”

“Don’t you mean a dollar and point two-five cents?” he teased. “Why do you need a candy dish?”

“It’s for Bee-Bee,” she said. “Hers got broken yesterday. I’m going to ride over to the Bee Hive this morning, and I thought maybe I could bring it to her.”

Melody got the sense that her father wasn’t exactly thrilled with her plan.

“I was hoping you and I could spend a little time together this morning, Mel,” he said. “I brought down that box of stuff from the attic.”

“Can it wait until later, Dad?” she asked. “I really want to tell Bee-Bee about Mrs. McKenna.”

“I suppose,” he said. “But don’t stay too long, okay? We need to make a grocery list. MaryAnn has offered to come over tonight and make dinner for us.”

“Really?” said Melody. She had to pinch herself again.

“She asked me to find out what you’d like her to make.”

“Tell her anything would be fine,” said Melody. “As long as it isn’t tuna noodle casserole.”

Gramp-o’s car was still sitting in the driveway. Melody’s father would have to rely on Esmeralda for a few days until his car was out of the shop. As she went into the garage to get her bike, Melody noticed an old fishbowl sitting in the corner of the garage and realized it would make a perfect replacement for Bee-Bee’s candy bowl. As she started down the driveway with the fishbowl balanced carefully on her handlebars, she heard a familiar voice.

“Knock-knock!” Teeny Nelson called through the knothole in the fence.

Melody was in such a good mood, she didn’t even hesitate before calling back.

“Who’s there?”

Teeny scrambled up to the top of the fence.

“Orange juice,” she said with a wide grin.

“Orange juice who?” asked Melody.

“Orange juice glad to see me?”

“Actually, I am,” she told Teeny.

“You are?” asked Teeny, surprised.

“I’ve been wondering how things went with your mother when she found out you’d torn your tutu.”

Teeny stuck a grubby finger in her mouth and wiggled a loose tooth.

“At first Mama got mad,” she said. “Then when I told her about going to the Bee Hive by myself she got even madder.”

“Did you get a spanking?” asked Melody, sincerely hoping she hadn’t.

“Nope,” Teeny told her. “Mama said she was proud of me for telling the truth and she said if I’m a good girl, next time she gets her fingernails painted, I can get mine done, too.”

“In case you’re still planning to get number fifty-four, you should know it’s got a new name,” said Melody.

“What is it?” asked Teeny.

“You’ll see.”

“You want to hear another knock-knock joke?” Teeny asked. “I’ve got a whole bunch.”

“Maybe later.”

“What are you going to do with that fishbowl?” asked Teeny.

“I’m taking it to a friend.”

“What kind of fish does your friend have?”

“Swedish Fish,” said Melody.

Teeny didn’t get the joke. Sensing Melody was about to leave, she blurted out, “I know something you don’t know! It’s about Henry and the love bug.”

“I don’t care about that anymore,” Melody told Teeny.

“I do. Mama says if I’m a really good girl, maybe we can get one of the kittens.”

Melody’s interest was piqued. “What kittens?” she asked.

Teeny started wiggling her tooth again.

“I thought you said you didn’t care about it anymore,” she said.

“Tell me about the kittens, and I’ll bring you something special when I come back,” Melody offered.

“What are you going to bring me?”

“Tell me first.”

It turned out that there was another Henry in Royal, after all: a large orange cat — the same one that had been hanging around the Bee Hive lately. It was this Henry who had been bitten by the love bug. He belonged to the pharmacist’s sister, Mrs. James, who was a friend of Mrs. Nelson’s. Apparently Teeny had overheard the two of them talking about how Henry had taken a shine to the neighbor’s calico, Josephine, and the result had been a litter of ten adorable kittens.

“Don’t forget to bring me something!” Teeny hollered after Melody as she rode off.

When Melody arrived at the Bee Hive, she found a sign hanging in the window saying it was closed. She was just about to turn around and ride home when Bee-Bee flung open the door.

“Melody!” she called out to her. “What a nice surprise. Come on in.”

Bee-Bee’s hair was red again, only this time it was straight and hung down to her waist, swaying like a grass hula skirt when she moved. She was wearing an apron and rubber gloves, and there were wet towels and soap suds all over the floor of the salon.

“What happened?” asked Melody. “Did your washing machine explode or something?”

“My dog got so muddy yesterday I decided to give him a bath in the shampoo sink,” Bee-Bee explained. “As you can see, he put up quite a fight.”

“Where is he now?” asked Melody, looking around.

“He’s in the apartment, hiding under the bed.”

Melody handed Bee-Bee the fishbowl and explained what it was for.

“It’s perfect!” Bee-Bee exclaimed. “Even better than the first one.”

She got a sponge and washed the fishbowl out with soap and hot water. When she was finished she put it on the counter and filled it to the top with candy.

“Do you mind if I take a couple of Dum Dums for Teeny?” Melody asked. “I promised I would bring her something.”

“Take as many as you want,” Bee-Bee told her. “But first tell me what you think.”

Bee-Bee held out her hands. Her fingernails were painted to look like bees.

“Cool!” said Melody.

“I’ve been practicing all morning trying to get the stripes right. I’ve never really done nail art before, but now I’m totally hooked.”

Melody dug around in the fishbowl until she found a root beer and a mystery flavor Dum Dum and tucked them into the pocket of her jeans. She spotted a cherry Starburst — her favorite flavor — and snagged it for herself for later.

“I have some good news,” she told Bee-Bee. “My dad isn’t marrying Miss Hogan after all.”

She told Bee-Bee about Mrs. McKenna.

“This calls for a celebration!” Bee-Bee said, and she grabbed Melody by the hand and pulled her over to the closet where she kept her wigs.

“Pick one,” she told Melody. “Something to match your mood.”

Melody hesitated.

“I don’t know if I really want to,” she said.

“Come on,” Bee-Bee told her, “it’ll be fun.” She grabbed a blond wig off of one of the Styrofoam heads and helped Melody put it on. “Go look at yourself in the mirror while I put on some music.”

Melody walked over to the mirror and stared at the girl with the long yellow hair. Maybe she wasn’t the spitting image of her mother, but for the first time, Melody could see the resemblance, and she was really glad about it.

Bee-Bee put on some early Beatles and started dancing, pushing towels around with her feet to dry the wet floor.

“Come dance with me, Melody,” she called. “And afterward we’ll make you a special polish with all the happy colors in it.”

Melody already knew what she was going to name her color — Honey.

But the polish would have to wait for another day. As the Beatles launched into a chorus of “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” the door opened and Melody’s father stepped into the salon. When he saw Melody in the wig, he did a double take.

“What’s going on in here?” he shouted over the music.

“We’re celebrating,” Melody shouted back.

Bee-Bee went and turned off the music.

“Hello, Henry,” she said, kissing Melody’s father on the cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I probably should have called first. I didn’t mean to interrupt the fun. Are those bees on your fingernails?”

He seemed nervous. Melody noticed his hands were shaking a little.

“What are you doing here, Dad?” she asked. “Is everything okay? Gramp-o’s not sick again, is he?”

“Is there someplace we can talk?” he said. “The three of us?”

Now Bee-Bee seemed nervous, too.

“The salon doesn’t open today until noon,” she said. “No one will bother us. Come on in and have a seat, Henry.”

“What’s going on?” Melody asked as she sat down beside her father on the wicker bench. Bee-Bee pulled up a chair and sat opposite them.

Melody’s father took a deep breath. Then he reached into his pocket and took out a small blue box.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Mel,” he said.