Fortune's Magic Farm by Suzanne Selfors (i read book .TXT) 📗

heart stopped mid-beat; her breath froze. Only the moment existed—the moment between the old life that she had known and the new life that she didn’t want to know. If only she could stay in that moment forever and never face the truth… but the gasps of the other tenants pulled her into reality. Unbearable reality.

Isabelle rushed into the bedroom. Grandma Maxine’s bed lay empty; her tattered quilt had fallen to the floor. The bed sheet still held the outline of her grandmother’s body. “Where is she?” Isabelle cried.

Mama Lu followed her into the bedroom, as did the tenants. “I told ya, she’s dead.” Her tone held no sympathy, as if Grandma Maxine were as insignificant as a dead bug. “And it was about time she died, doing no work, getting her meals served to her. This ain’t no hospital. She was a deadbeat, that’s what she was.”

The room tilted. Isabelle felt woozy. Bert rushed forward and took her arm. “Poor little Isabelle,” he cooed.

Boris took the other arm. “We’re so sorry, Isabelle.”

“Whatcha sorry fer?” Mama Lu bellowed.

Isabelle couldn’t pull her gaze from the sheet. “But… where is she?”

“Undertaker took her.” Mama Lu tore a vine from the wall, exposing a cracked wallboard. A cold breeze immediately seeped through. “It’s gonna cost a lot of money to fix this room.” She pointed a finger in Isabelle’s face. “And yer paying every cent. Ya hear me?” Mama Lu cared more about a room than about the fact that one of her tenants had just died!

Isabelle threw herself across her grandmother’s bed, trying to hide her tears.

“We’ll help her pay,” Boris said.

“Us too,” said the Wormbottoms.

“No one pays but her,” Mama Lu snarled. “She’s the one who done this. Bringing slugs and plants into my house ’cause she thinks she’s so special. Well, I got news fer ya. Ya ain’t special. Ya was thrown away, just like garbage.” With a loud grunt, she tore another vine. “She and her granny was always my worst tenants. Always late on their rent. Always eating more food than they needed. But me, being kind-hearted, allowed them to stay.”

Lies, lies, LIES!

Isabelle pushed herself off the bed. “Get out!” she cried. Uncontrollable rage pounded in her head. “This is my room. Get out of here. Leave me alone!”

“How dare ya yell at me.”

“She’s dead and you don’t even care.” Isabelle balled up her fists, ready to wallop Mama Lu if she kept saying mean things. “She’s dead and you don’t…” Isabelle hesitated.

At that moment, her mind cleared and she realized that, like so many recent events, this one didn’t make sense. Something wasn’t right. She pointed a finger in Mama Lu’s face. “How did you know she was dead?” she asked. “You never come up to the fourth floor and we were at the factory. How did you know?”

Mama Lu tied her bathrobe around her enormous middle. “The undertaker told me, dimwit. He knocked on the door and told me.”

“But how did the undertaker know? Who would have called him?”

“How am I supposed to know that?” Mama Lu kicked at a clump of moss. “And why would I care? He said she was dead and he took her away. Now don’t try to change the subject. Yer not getting any meals until this entire room is scrubbed clean.”

“But how… ?”

“Shut yer trap. She’s dead, ya hear? And I’ve come to collect her belongings.”

So there it was, the only reason why Mama Lu would heave herself up three flights of stairs—greed, pure and simple. The landlady yanked open Grandma Maxine’s bedside drawer, which held bits and pieces of her life—a pair of knitting needles, some buttons, a chipped teacup, a pair of socks, to name just a few.

“Those belong to me,” Isabelle said as Mama Lu stuffed the bits and pieces into her bathrobe pockets.

“This stuff is mine ’cause it’s in my house. It don’t belong to you ’cause she weren’t yer real, blood-born granny. But don’t think fer a minute that this will pay off yer debt. You’ll be workin’ fer months to pay fer all the damage done to this room.”

Tears welled in Isabelle’s eyes. How could she work more?

Boris stepped forward. “I got an extra dollar.”

“I got an extra dollar, too,” said Mr. Limewig.

“Shut yer traps, all of ya. This ain’t none of yer business. Go on, get out of here.” She shoved the tenants into the hallway and down the stairs. Then she returned for Isabelle. “I’ve been far too nice to ya, lettin’ ya sleep in this luxurious room. Ya’ll sleep on the porch from now on.”

Isabelle turned away. She was not going to let the landlady see her tears. I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. Now I’m an orphan, like Gwen.

The seed, which had been quietly resting inside Isabelle’s sock, chose that moment to start humming like a trapped housefly.

“Is ya singing again?” Mama Lu asked. She stared at Isabelle’s rubber boot. “What ya got in there?”

“Nothing.” Isabelle wiped her eyes.

“That ain’t nothing. Whatever it is, give it over.”

“No.” Isabelle’s knees started to tremble.

“Give it, I say. It’s my house. Them’s my rules.”

Isabelle felt so scared she thought she might fall over. “No. You can’t have it.”

“Ya little brat!” Mama Lu tried to grab a clump of Isabelle’s hair but she wasn’t quick enough. “Ya’ll do what I say or ya won’t be living here no more.”

“I don’t want to live here anymore,” Isabelle cried, backing toward the door. “I’ll go live with Gwen.”

“No ya won’t. Gertrude won’t take ya ’cause I won’t let her. Ya owe me too much money.”

“Then I’ll live somewhere else. I’ll go to another town, far, far away.” Nothing was keeping her in Runny Cove. She couldn’t work enough hours to satisfy Mr. Supreme, Gertrude, and Mama Lu. And without her grandmother, no one needed her.

Mama Lu reached into the bedside drawer again and found some buttons. “There’s nothing out there fer ya. Yer just a stupid factory worker.”

The seed hummed louder. Isabelle tried to