“Looking for a husband? Why?” Grandma Maxine asked. “Did I lose one?”
“A sense of humor, too.” Walnut clapped his hands as if he had just opened a birthday present.
“And this is Sage,” Isabelle said. “Oh, that’s right. You two have already met.”
“You look well,” Sage said.
But Grandma Maxine scowled at him. “You promised to take her away. Why did you bring her back? There’s nothing for her here.”
“It was my idea to come back,” Isabelle said. “I want to help. We’ve all come to help.”
“Help?” Grandma Maxine shook her head. “Runny Cove is lost, Isabelle. The best thing you can do is to save yourself.”
BAROOO!
Grandma Maxine looked nervously up the road. “That’s the five-minute warning. I’ll get in trouble if I’m late.”
“But Grandma, we brought cherries to cure everyone.”
She gasped. “You mean like the cherry I ate?”
“Yes.” Isabelle opened the chest. Raindrops glided down glossy cherry skins. “Will you help me pass them out?”
“That’s why you came back? To help everyone feel better?”
“And to see you.”
Grandma Maxine pulled Isabelle into another rib-cracking hug. “You’re an angel, Isabelle. Of course I’ll help you pass them out. That nasty Mr. Supreme can give me quadruple shifts for being late—I don’t care. I’m going to help my granddaughter!”
The last of the workers marched past. Isabelle held out a cherry to one of the women. “Eat this,” she insisted. “It will make your cough go away.”
“I don’t have time,” the woman said hoarsely. “I won’t get paid if I’m late.”
Walnut, Nesbitt, Sage, and Grandma Maxine tried to convince workers to stop and eat a cherry, but not a single worker accepted the offer. Their eyes focused on one thing only—the factory that loomed at the top of the gravel road.
Isabelle wound frantically up the road, searching for someone who would trust her. Finally, she spotted Gwen. There was no time for a reunion. No time for explanations. “Eat one of these.”
“Isabelle?” Gwen mumbled, wiping her runny nose. She barely opened her eyes. “I’m so tired. You’re in trouble for missing so much work.”
“Please eat this, Gwen. It will make you feel better.”
“I don’t have time. I have to work triple shifts today,” she said, slopping through a pothole. She kept marching, just like the others.
“Leonard,” Isabelle called out, running to her friend. But he didn’t even recognize her voice.
“Got… to… get… to… work.”
“They won’t listen to me,” Isabelle said frantically. “They only care about getting to work.”
Walnut put an arm around Isabelle’s shoulders. “Don’t despair. I’m sure there’s a way to get them to pay attention.”
“Maybe we can try again tonight, when they leave the factory,” Sage suggested.
“But then they’ll be in a bigger hurry to get home to their suppers,” Grandma Maxine said.
“They won’t pay attention, not as long as that factory sits up there,” Isabelle cried. “I hate that stupid factory. I wish it would just disappear!”
“That can be arranged.” Walnut pulled a seed packet from his jacket pocket and smiled mischievously.
The instant the seeds fell into Walnut’s palm, they sprouted. “Seems to me that they can’t be late if there’s no work to be late for,” he said, green shoots flowing down his arm.
“Camouflage Creeper seeds. Great idea,” Sage said.
“Hmmm.” Nesbitt stroked his pointy chin. “It certainly would be a tasty bit of revenge if we made Mr. Supreme’s factory disappear.”
Isabelle smiled, imagining Mr. Supreme driving up in his big black roadster to find his factory missing. He’d holler, no doubt about it. He’d throw a fit, but all the while his factory would be right where he had left it. Wouldn’t that be a fun sight to see? Even better than the time Mama Lu had hollered all morning about her missing salt canister, and it turned out she’d been sitting on it the entire time!
“You’re talking crazy,” Grandma Maxine said. “In the first place, no one can make an entire factory disappear and in the second place, what would the workers do? We need that factory to survive. It’s the only way for us to earn a living.”
“Oh no, Grandma. There are other ways. Believe me.”
While traveling across the sea, Isabelle and her companions had devised a plan for how the workers of Runny Cove could earn a living without the umbrella factory. Though using Camouflage Creepers hadn’t been part of the original plan, it occurred to Isabelle that everything would be easier if the factory disappeared.
“Let’s do it,” she said.
“Rolo,” Walnut called. The raven flew from the clouds, scooped the Camoflauge Creepers into his beak, then flew toward the factory.
Mr. Hench stood in the factory’s doorway. “Hey!” he shouted through cupped hands. The workers had only marched two-thirds of the way up the road. “Get up here, you lazy lot of losers!”
Rolo dive-bombed Mr. Hench’s head, then flew around the factory dropping the wriggling creepers. The effect was immediate. The vines took root in the soggy ground and climbed the cement building, grabbing hold of windowsills and fissures. Sprouting branches and leaves, the vines climbed and covered until no doors, windows, or pipes could be seen. Up they rose, reaching the roof, forcing their way down the chimney and extinguishing its stinky plume. In only a few moments the towering cement fortress had been transformed into a solitary mountain. Or so it appeared.
The workers stopped in their tracks. They stared. They shook their heads. They rubbed their eyes. Rain pelted their disbelieving faces.
“Hey. Get a move on.” Mr. Hench hadn’t yet noticed the mountain. He hurried down the road carrying one of the new umbrellas—azure blue with white polka dots. “Whatcha all standing around for? Get up there and get to work or Mr. Supreme will fire the whole lot of ya.”
But the workers just kept staring.
Isabelle, who stood with Sage and her family at the end of the crowd, had not yet been noticed by Mr. Hench. “It worked,” she whispered.
“These old eyes have never seen anything like it,” Grandma Maxine whispered back.
Mr. Hench poked a few workers with his umbrella. “Move it. Move it, I say. Lazy bunch of good-for-nothings.”
“But… but… but…” Gwen stammered. “The factory is gone.”
“Where’d it go?” Leonard asked.
Mr. Hench nearly fell over. “What?” He hurried back up the road. “What’s going on here?” He poked the mountain with his umbrella. “Where’d this come from?”
As Mr. Hench poked and cursed, the workers of the former Magnificently Supreme Umbrella Factory gave Isabelle their full attention while she explained the wonders of the Curative Cherries. And she thought it best to do so in a little song.
The Fruit Song
Is your phlegm weighing you down?
Does your fever make you frown?
Is the frog in your throat hopping around?
Eat some fruit, eat some fruit, eat some fruit.
Are your boogers cramping your style?
Are your lips too chapped to smile?
Are the sores on your tongue terribly vile?
Eat some fruit, eat some fruit, eat some fruit.
Stop wheezing and sneezing and listen to me,
for I have something that’s totally free.
If you’re feeling sick it will sure do the trick
but don’t eat the stem and spit out the pit…
Are you tired of wiping your snot?
Does your breath always smell like rot?
This is better than pills and won’t hurt like a shot,
eat some fruit, eat some fruit, eat some fruit.
As Nesbitt, Walnut, Sage, and Grandma Maxine helped hand out the Curative Cherries, they all sang, “Eat s
ome fruit, eat some fruit, eat some fruit.”
Isabelle dove straight for Gwen.
“Mmmm, that’s good.” Gwen’s eyes began to sparkle. The crust around her nostrils disappeared. “I feel great,” she said. “Isabelle? Is that really you? What happened to your hair? Why did you leave without saying goodbye? Where have you been? I’ve missed you so much. Mama Lu’s been spreading horrible lies about you. She called you a thief.”
“I don’t care about Mama Lu.” Which, for the first time in Isabelle’s life, was the truth. She didn’t care if Mama Lu took away another privilege, or yelled at her, or called her a stupid dimwit. Mama Lu was as insignificant as a grain of salt. “Could you help Grandma and me pass these out?” She poured some cherries into Gwen’s hand. “Find Leonard and give him one. He can help us, too.”
Isabelle found Boris and Bert, the Limewigs, and the Wormbottoms. They straightened their backs and legs and held their heads higher than they had ever held them before. “I can breathe,” Mrs. Limewig said.
“My headache’s gone,” Boris said.
“My nose is clear,” Mr. Wormbottom said.
Mr. Hench stumbled down the road, waving his umbrella. “I don’t know what all the singing’s about but we’ve got a real problem here, people. The factory is gone!”
“I don’t see why that’s a problem,” Grandma Maxine said. “I say, good riddance.”
“Look, old woman,” Mr. Hench growled. “You don’t seem to understand. Mr. Supreme is coming here this morning for an inspection and when he sees that his factory’s gone, well, I’m going to be in a heap of trouble.”
That comment frightened the workers and they huddled. “He’ll blame us,” they said.
“No, he won’t blame you,” Isabelle told them. “I won’t let him. I’ll tell him that this was my idea.”
“That’s too dangerous,” Sage said. “I’m the protector. I’ll tell him that it was my idea.”
“I’m not afraid of him any longer,” Isabelle said. Which, for the first time in Isabelle’s life, was the truth.
And at that very moment, it stopped raining. A patch of blue appeared directly above the gravel road.
“The marmots have made a dent in the Cloud Clover,” Walnut said.
The blue patch widened, pushing away the clouds. Workers turned their faces toward the sky. Yellow rays trickled down, caressing their heads and drying their slickers. Grandma Maxine held up her arms. “It’s the sun,” she said. “The sun has returned.”
Some who stood on that road could remember the days when Runny Cove had been a sunny, happy place. But for the young ones, like Gwen and Leonard, the glowing sky was a sight they had never dreamed possible. As the villagers cast off their slickers, the gray that had soaked into their bodies began to evaporate. Mold patches dried up. Hair turned blond, brunette, red, and black. Irises ignited. Gwen took Isabelle’s hand, her blond curls bouncing. “It’s the sun, Isabelle. I’m so glad we get to see it together.”
Leonard wandered up, his birthmark less noticeable on skin that had turned brown. “Isn’t this great?” he asked. “It’s like a dream.”
“Let’s go to the beach,” Boris said to Bert. “We haven’t made a sandcastle since we were kids.”
“Let’s take a stroll,” Mr. Limewig said to Mrs. Limewig. “Remember how strolling used to be our favorite thing to do?”
“Let’s do absolutely nothing,” Mrs. Wormbottom said to Mr. Wormbottom. “I can’t remember the last time we did absolutely nothing.”
Gwen and Leonard somersaulted down the sand dunes while Leonard’s parents waltzed off down the road. Even Mr. Hench got caught up in the happiness, announcing that he was going to dig for buried treasure. Soon everyone had wandered away, holding hands, laughing, running, and leaping. Grandma Maxine, Isabelle, Sage, Nesbitt, and Walnut watched with quiet satisfaction.
“Isabelle, you should be very proud of yourself,” Nesbitt said. “You’ve brought a bit of happiness to Runny Cove.”
“I couldn’t have done it without all of you. Without… my family.”
BEEP! BEEP!
Isabelle’s heart lurched, then somersaulted. “Oh no. Here comes Mr. Supreme.” It’s easy not to feel afraid of someone when that person is far, far away. But now she wasn’t so sure.
A black roadster barreled up the road. Walnut whipped out his packet of Camoflauge Creepers but not soon enough—they had been spotted. The driver slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop just inches from Nesbitt. The driver’s door opened and Mr. Supreme slid out, his shiny black coat crunching as he stood. “What have we here?” His intense gaze swept over Isabelle, then the others, coming to rest upon Walnut’s seed packet. “I presume that I have the pleasure of finally meeting the Fortunes?”
Walnut shook his head, trying to hide the seeds, but Nesbitt stepped forward. “Your presumption is correct.” Though Nesbitt’s voice remained calm, his hands clenched angrily behind his back.
Mr. Supreme slid a pair of sunglasses onto his nose and unbuttoned his driving coat. “I see that you’ve brought your magic with you. What have you done with my rain?”
“The Cloud Clover was not yours to plant,” Nesbitt said.
“Those seeds were stolen property,” Sage added, bravely stepping forward. Isabelle’s heart pounded faster. Mr. Supreme still terrified her. I’m not as brave as I thought.
“Stolen property?” Mr. Supreme’s upper lip glistened. He pulled a canister of antibacterial wipes from his pocket and dabbed his lip. “I had no idea. The man who sold them to me said nothing about stealing them.”
“Where else have you planted the clover?” Nesbitt asked.
Mr. Supreme raised his pencil-thin eyebrows. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He didn’t even try to make it sound like the truth. He delighted in his lies. Isabelle wanted to punch him right in the nose.
Mr. Supreme ran his gloved hand along the roadster’s chrome. “I’m willing to make a deal, Fortune. I suppose you’d like me to stop searching the Northern Shore with my gyrocopters. That could be arranged but only if you bring my rain back.”
Nesbitt took a long, deep breath. Is he considering the proposition? Isabelle wondered. Calling off the search would make life less worrisome at the farm and would make Sage’s job a lot easier, but at a terrible cost.
A little smile sat on Mr. Supreme’s face. He might have excelled at ruining people’s lives, but he stunk at lying.
“Don’t believe him.” Isabelle stumbled forward, grabbing her grandfather’s arm. “He’ll keep looking. I know he will.”
“And who are you, little girl?” Mr. Supreme glared over the rims of his sunglasses.
Isabelle remembered how scared she had felt that morning in the factory, when she had told him that she couldn’t work more hours. She remembered her trembling hands, the way her words had squeaked out of her mouth, the way everyone had watched as she, a stupid factory worker, had tried to appeal to Mr. Supreme’s sympathies. This time it would be different. She put her hands on her hips. “I’m the one who got away,” she said proudly.
“What?”
“You tried to catch my mother and me but we both got away.”
“Isabelle,” Nesbitt hissed. “Say no more.”
“I want him to know,” she insisted. “I want him to know that he can’t make everyone do what he wants.”
“Can’t I?” Mr. Supreme narrowed his eyes. “I do believe I’m looking at a young tender. How very interesting.” He removed his driving gloves and twirled them as he leaned against the roadster. “Perhaps you would like to come and live with me, little girl. I can offer you a much better life. A palace, a gyrocopter of your own, riches beyond your imagination. What could these old men possibly offer you?”
Isabelle took a deep breath, ready to launch into a long list of things.
“Isabelle,” Sage warned.
She had taken the oath. No one had to remind her of that. But oh, how she wanted to tell Mr. Supreme that
all his riches could never compare to one square inch of Fortune’s Farm.
“Just tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen,” Mr. Supreme said.
“I want you to go away and never come back to Runny Cove.”
He snorted. “I have no intention of going away. Share your magic with me and you’ll be the most famous little girl in the entire world.”
“But you see, I have shared my magic with you.” Isabelle pointed up the hill. Sage, Walnut, Nesbitt, and Grandma Maxine stepped aside.
Mr. Supreme’s smiled faded. “What have you done?” he cried, staring at the mountain. A flock of seagulls nested on its peak. He whipped around and glared at Isabelle. “What have you done with my factory?” He lunged at her.
Grandma Maxine wrapped her arms around Isabelle while Sage, Nesbitt, and Walnut stepped in front of her, providing a protective wall that Mr. Supreme would have to fight his way through.
“Your factory is gone,” Nesbitt said. “The rain is gone. There’s nothing for you in this town.”
“We want you to go away!” Isabelle cried.
Mr. Supreme shook a fist. “I made this town. These people can’t survive without my factory. They need me.”
“Do they?” Nesbitt asked. “They don’t look like they need you.” He pointed to the sand dunes where the Limewigs happily strolled. Some kids were playing catch with a factory hard hat and Mr. Hench was digging in the dirt with his umbrella handle.
“Hench?” Mr. Supreme shouted. “HENCH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
Mr. Hench glanced up and smiled. “I’m collecting potato bugs.”
Mr. Supreme whipped off his sunglasses. “Potato bugs?” He stomped to the road’s edge. “I don’t pay you to collect potato bugs. Get back to work, all of you. GET BACK TO WORK!”
But no one paid him any mind. They just kept strolling, and playing, and digging.
Mr. Supreme cursed. But then a fake smile spread across his face and he steadied his voice. “Come now, Fortune. Surely we are men of reason.”
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