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where the Bleachorama used to be? The building is now the future home of It’s Raining Cupcakes.”
    â€œWow, that’s exciting!” He stood up. “I’ll have to stop by. I love cupcakes.”
    â€œThat’d be great! We open on August fifteenth.”
    â€œOkay, Isabel, I need to get going. But I’ll try to come by for the grand opening. And good luck with that contest. Are you going to make cupcakes?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”
    â€œSee ya later,” he said.
    â€œSay hi to the president for me!”
    I pulled out my passport book and wrote in it:
    Mr. Nelson made me love
    reading about other places.
    But reading about places
    and going places
    is just not the same.
    â€”IB

    I told Mom and Dad about the pool incident over a dinner of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Mom didn’t say a whole lot, just shook her head and pushed the food around on her plate.
    â€œI feel bad, you know,” I told them, wanting them to believe me. “I’d never want anything to happen to those little boys.”
    Dad took a drink of milk. “Drowning accidents can happen so fast. It probably just scared Sue something fierce. She’s mad now. But she’ll get over it. You apologized, right?”
    â€œYeah. But I don’t think she believed me.”
    â€œIt’s okay,” he said. “Look at it this way. We’re getting close to opening day. Your mom could probably use some help with grocery shopping and testing some more recipes. Right, Caroline?”
    â€œI suppose,” she said, staring off into space.
    â€œMom, aren’t you excited?” I asked. “You open in just a few more weeks! I’ve been telling everyone I see.”
    She stood up and took her plate to the counter. “Don’t remind me. I’m not ready. I don’t know whyI thought we could be ready by the fifteenth. It’s too soon.” She turned around. “David, I think we should wait. I think we should postpone the opening.”
    Dad stood up. “Honey, we’re not going to wait. All the guys have been working so hard to have it ready. You just have cold feet. That’s all. But Isabel getting fired is a blessing in disguise. She can help you with whatever you need—running errands, trying new recipes, advertising. Put her to work.”
    I sighed. There went the rest of my summer vacation.
    While they continued their discussion, I snuck off to my room. I took a seat at my desk, feeling defeated about the entire day and thinking maybe I should just crawl into bed, when I saw two pieces of mail that had come for me.
    The first was a postcard from my aunt, with a picture of the St. Louis Gateway Arch on the front.
    Dear Isabel, I’ve been to St. Louis many times and never took the time to go up to the arch. It was fun!The view from the top was incredible, and there’s a cool museum inside about Lewis and Clark and their trip. Hope all is well with you. Is the cupcake shop coming along nicely? Love, Aunt Christy
    The second was an envelope with Sophie’s hand-writing. I ripped it open and read.
    Dear Is,
    Camp sucks. I think I’m getting too old or something. Every activity seems lame, lamer, and lamest. I mean, canoeing on the lake isn’t fun. It’s work! Just ask my biceps. And archery? I used to be happy just getting the thing somewhere on the target. But now? No way. I want to hit the bull’s-eye, baby! And of course, it’s impossible. So I get frustrated and throw the thing on the ground. And then they yell at me. And then I cry. And then . . . well, you get the idea.
    I want to come home. Next year, when my mom tells me I have to go, I’ll just stay at your place and eat cupcakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for two weeks. Your parents won’t mind, right?
    What’s going on in Willow? Working on your recipe? How are Thing 1 and Thing 2, otherwise known as Lucas and