Fortune's Magic Farm Suzanne Selfors (best books for 20 year olds txt) 📖

storage. They’re Snowfall Sweet Peas and if they’re exposed to air for too long, we’ll have snow in the middle of summer. Holes and snow. Don’t want that.”

“But you were going to tell me…”

“Yes, yes, about your mother. That can wait. Sage needs the thread. Hurry.”

Isabelle grabbed the spool of black thread. It seemed absolutely ridiculous to rush off just because Sage had a stupid hole. In fact, it seemed… stupid!

“You must hurry,” Walnut said, gently pushing her toward the stairs. “A hole is not to be messed around with.”

“But I don’t know where Sage is.”

“Follow Rolo. Don’t stray or dawdle, no matter how many interesting things you see along the way. Here.” He pulled a sandwich from his pocket. “I made it this morning. Cucumber-butter.”

Isabelle took the sandwich. “Will you tell me about my parents when I get back?”

“Yes. Now go.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, yes.” He flapped his hands in the air, urging her up the stairs.

Great-Uncle Walnut did not seem like the sort of person who would break a promise. Even so, Isabelle scowled. She had come so close to learning about her mother and now she had to run a ridiculous errand. She shoved the spool under her arm and followed Rolo up the stairs, under the Belchiferus Bamboo, and down the hacked greenhouse path.

A little cloud hovered outside the greenhouse door, dropping rain onto a barrel in which red flowers grew. Then the cloud moved to a barrel of yellow flowers. It was the cloud that Walnut had mentioned, the one that watered the farm, for no other clouds hung in the mid-day sky. Isabelle stood outside the greenhouse, her bad mood instantly washed away by the sun’s warmth. Would it always take her by surprise? Even after years of living on the farm would she still marvel at it? She began to hum, Sunshine shining down, songbirds flying ’round, seedlings in the ground, magic to be found, here on Fortune’s Farm.

She wanted to share the sun with Gwen and Leonard. Would all the gray wash off their bodies? What would they look like with smooth skin? Would they love her new home as much as she did? Of course they would. Who wouldn’t love dry clothes, floating fronds…

… and a grumpy old man who was opening the tower window?

“I told you to go away!” He leaned out and shook his fist.

“Bu… bu… but I’m your granddaughter,” she stammered.

“I don’t care who you are. The end has come, so go away!” He popped his orange-streaked head back inside and slammed the window shut.

Raindrops rolled down Isabelle’s face. The little cloud hovered over her head. She walked to the right, it floated to the right. She ran to the left, it quickly floated to the left. Just great. It had mistaken her for a green shrub. As the cloud watered Isabelle, her heart sank. If her grandfather didn’t want her to stay, he certainly wouldn’t welcome her friends. All her life she had wanted to find Nowhere and there she stood, smack dab in the middle of it. But she couldn’t call it home—not yet. There had to be a way to change his mind. If only she knew why he was so angry.

Being “special” didn’t mean squat when it came to getting questions answered.

Rolo circled, cawing for Isabelle to follow. The sooner she delivered the spool to Sage, the sooner she could get back and continue the conversation with her great-uncle. “Rocky,” she called. Where was that marmot?

Rocky hung over the side of a trough, drinking water. A bearded goat nibbled on the marmot’s stubby tail. “Come on, Rocky,” Isabelle called.

Finally, the cloud moved on to a patch of brown grass.

Rolo led Isabelle and Rocky past the signpost to a trail that headed into the mountains. While Isabelle was used to climbing to the fourth floor, by the middle of the hike she felt as if she had climbed to the forty-fourth floor. Even Rocky grew tired and lay on her belly, panting wheezily. They took a break, sharing the cucumber-butter sandwich as Rolo pruned his feathers in a treetop.

Her strength renewed, Isabelle perched the marmot on her shoulder and set off again. Each step took her further away from her great-uncle and his promised answers. With each step she grew more and more annoyed that Sage hadn’t come to get the spool of thread himself. So when she finally found him, sitting on the ground with his satchel at his side, she was all scowls and irritation. “Here.” She shoved the spool in his face.

“Thanks,” he said. His gaze traveled over her face and hair. She readied herself for him to say something mean like, What took you so long? or I never gave you permission to wear my old clothes, or You look even worse than you did before. But he surprised her.

“I like your colors.”

Isabelle stopped scowling. “You do?”

“Yeah. Green hair is kind of nice. Well, it sure beats gray. And your eyes don’t look so sad. You’re not so… so…” He rolled the spool between his hand. “I mean, you look kinda… kinda…” His voice changed, like he was fighting with each word. “Well, you know, you’re… you’re…” He cleared his throat. “Not ugly.”

What a nice thing to say. Isabelle’s face went hot and she felt bad about shoving the spool at him. “Thanks.” She ran her fingers through her thick hair. “They won’t even recognize me when I go back to Runny Cove.”

He began to unwind the thread. “Why would you go back to Runny Cove? It’s the most horrible place I’ve ever seen.”

Isabelle scratched the marmot’s head. “Well, I think that there are plenty of Curative Cherries in the orchard. I could give one to everybody and they wouldn’t be sick anymore. And then I’ll bring my friends back with me. There’s plenty of room and Great-Uncle Walnut said that he can’t get all the work done without some help.”

“You can’t do any of those things without the Head Tender’s permission.