“Dowsers don’t take away water, they find it. And now there’s a new well that has lots of water,” I explain.

“Yes, I know, and I heard tell it was you yourself found the water, when no one else could.” Mr. Ronnie holds up a mug full of water. “Good-tasting water it is, too.”

Charlotte Rose taps her fingers on a metal toolbox in front of her.

“Mr. Ronnie, I think we’re getting a bit off the subject. Did you say what you needed to say?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry and I hope your friend gets better and comes home. That’s what I meant to say, but maybe it didn’t come out clear.”

“It was clear,” I answer.

“Good. Now that’s done. Son, I want you to pick out something. Anything from the whole Palace.”

I’ve been looking around, so it isn’t hard to choose. I see a wooden apple ladder that comes to a point at the top. With the tall ladder, I can pick the apples that get left at the top of my great-grandfather’s tree every fall. And in the winter, I can ask Dad to show me how to prune the high-up suckers.

It takes a while for Mr. Ronnie to reach the ladder and bring it outside.

“Might you have a piece of rope to tie this ladder to the top of my car?” Charlotte Rose asks Mr. Ronnie.

“A piece of rope? I have miles of rope! That’s not a problem at all.”

Mr. Ronnie helps Charlotte Rose tie down the ladder. Then he goes back into the store and comes out with a big doll. It has stains on its yellow flowered dress and blue Magic Marker on its bald head.

“Here, take this for that little sister of yours. What’s her name? Tweety?”

“Birdie.”

“Yes, you give this to Birdie from me. So she doesn’t feel left out.”

Mr. Ronnie sticks his hand out.

“No hard feelings?”

“No hard feelings,” I say, and shake Mr. Ronnie’s hand. “I hope you don’t have to sell the Picker Palace. There’s some great things in here.”

“Thank you, son.”

It’s a short ride home with Charlotte Rose. The rock music plays, and I think about Mr. Ronnie’s son, Dwayne, in jail. I guess that would be the worst thing, to be where you can’t smell the spring or see the stars at night. I’m glad the meteorite found a way to protect itself and be outdoors under the sky.

Mr. Ronnie’s spools of rope give me an idea for measuring the distance around the meteorite using hay string. I picture myself holding one end of the string and James stretching it out all around the rock. Then I remember where James is.

Birdie runs at me when Charlotte Rose drops me back at Nana’s.

“Where you go, Henry?”