"A love song," Lanna sang, the sound drifting out from her green-roofed house. "A love song to you, brown eyes."

Chelsea, her hand raised to knock, was transfixed.

"A love song to your smile, and the way your laughter makes the whole world shine."

Wow, Chelsea thought, she really does have a great voice. Shaking herself out of her stupor, she knocked hesitantly on Lanna's door.

"Coming!" Lanna sang out. In a heartbeat, she was swinging the door open to Chelsea's smiling face.

"Hi, Lanna!" Chelsea greeted. "I was passing by and I thought maybe you'd like some company?"

"That'd be great!" Lanna agreed. "Come in, come in! I have just the thing. Pierre baked me some things recently and I still have tons in the fridgey."

"Pierre?" Chelsea asked, amused, as she entered Lanna's very pink home. Vinyls and fishing rods and posters of Lanna dominated the walls, proving Denny's Theory of Home Décor and Work/Hobby Correlation.

"Pierrey!" Lanna confirmed merrily. "You know, we were such great friends back in the city. Like, one time when I was promoting Linnet Sings, and I got a guest spot on It Takes Guts To Be A Gourmet, and Pierre was showing the audience how to make yam pudding, which is like my favorite thing ever. I ended up falling in love with Pierre's yam pudding and becoming super awesome friends with Pierrey."

"I didn't catch that episode," Chelsea said. "Maybe it was during one of the days I was tutoring overtime at school."

"Oh, it never aired," Lanna murmured, suddenly less buoyant. "It showed me eating sweets and absolutely reveling in it. My manager…well. I was supposed to be this superstar sweetheart who loved yoga and veggies and working out, not teeth-rotting sugar-loving girl who gladly ate stuff that went straight to her thighs. We re-shot one when Pierre was making salad, instead."

Not knowing what to say, Chelsea laid her hand over Lanna's, instead, in a silent attempt at comfort.

Lanna covered Chelsea's hand with her other hand, and smiled at the copper-haired farmer.

"Anyway, that's all over now. I fired my manager when I moved to the islands."

"Bet he loved that," Chelsea commented sarcastically.

"Oh, he did. Apparently no one would want to manage a washed-up one-hit-wonder with only one single under her bejeweled over-sequined faux-leather belt, anyway."

"Oh, Lanna…"

"No, it's fine," Lanna grinned. Suddenly, she was upbeat again. "I'm doing great! I have a couple songs written, and I'm going to make a comeback. Soon! It's going to be great. I'm going to take the world by storm again, just like when I released The Caged Bird Sings. You know, my super awesome hit single that became a movie's theme song? World tours! Sponsorships! Advertisements! Soon, Chelsea, I promise…the world will relearn the name of Lanna Linnet!"

But amidst the hyper upbeat demeanor, Chelsea could detect just the slightest hint of watery sparkle in the starlet's brown eyes.

Floundering, she cast about for a better conversation topic. "Anyway, umm…the food?"

"Oh! The food!"

Lanna quickly dished out some sweets – chocolate cake, and her beloved yam pudding – and then settled back at on the kitchen table.

"I've actually been writing a couple of songs for my comeback album," Lanna confided, as she bit into her yam pudding. "Umm. Pierre is so good at food. He plays it like a piano. You know, I told him once, his flavors are like music? And the metaphor totally resonated with him."

Suddenly, all of Pierre's musical metaphors became clear to Chelsea, and she almost choked on her (sinfully decadent) chocolate cake.

"Chels? Chels? You alright?"

"Fine," Chelsea managed, after a storm of coughing. "So…your comeback album?"

"Oh, yes! I've been dabbling in some party songs, but really, my strength is in the ballads. Nevertheless, I've been trying out some electro-dubstep, since they're dominating the charts right now."

"Electro-dubstep?"

"Like this! Muh-muh-muh-make it pop!"

Lanna leaped up and started gyrating.

"Purple is for royalty, don't you know you rule my heart? King of this pretty birdy, baby, baby, make it pop."

Chelsea dived to save the chair from falling, as Lanna lost herself in her hiphop routine. Impressively, she didn't even lose her breath as she executed a backflip. "Your head's a-crowned with purple and you-you-you-you own my heart. You own my heart!"

A double cartwheel, then Lanna sang, "Purple-purple make it pop!" and executed a perfect split.

Chelsea jumped up and started applauding wildly.

"Wooooh! Go, Lanna Linnet! I love you, Lanna!"

"Thanks," Lanna beamed, as she got up from the floor. "It's just a rough draft, but that's my requisite party song, Purple (Make It Pop). Oh, you should hear it with full accompaniment in my head, Chels – bass pounding, all that stuff. It'd play so loud that every time you heard it, it'd be like an earthquake was pounding under your feet and into your heart."

"Your head's a-crowned with purple and you-you-you-you own my heart," Chelsea sang. "It's catchy! Super catchy. It'd go platinum! Double platinum! Triple!"

"Don't exaggerate," Lanna chided, but she was smiling. "It's the ballads, though, that I love the most."

And before she could be prompted, Lanna launched into song.

"A love song, a love song to you, brown eyes. A love song to your smile, and the way your laughter makes the whole world shine."

"I heard you singing that earlier," Chelsea said, as an aside. Lanna smiled, then sang, "You're sunlight on a dark day, love, keep shining bright on me. Keep touching me like that, my love, and you'll make my whole world shine." Then, higher and clearer than ever: "Shine, shine, shine!"

And though they weren't at a concert venue, Chelsea could imagine the stage lights shining on Lanna's face, her fans held completely under her spell. Lanna would be wearing a pure-white, floor-length gown, so white the stage lights would catch it and play upon it. Only she and the piano would be onstage as the last notes would linger hauntingly in the air as she sang, softer, sweeter than ever, "You make me shine…"

Slowly, Chelsea rose to her feet and started clapping.

Lanna dropped a curtsy, blushing all the way.

"That's…indescribable," Chelsea whispered. "Lanna, seriously. It's beyond beautiful. It's transcended beautiful, Lanna, it's…"

"No need to flatter me," Lanna said, but she was a very fetching shade of pink. "Do you really think it's that lovely, Chels?"

"Yes!" Chelsea exclaimed. "Your voice…wow. More than lovely, enchanting. That song could launch your comeback, Lanna, just with the way you sing it."

"Oh, I'm not sure about that," Lanna demurred. "I'm thinking maybe Purple (Make It Pop) would be a better launch. It shows I'm up-to-date. Current. And that I can break it down, yo." She did the splits again, grinning wickedly.

"The music vid of that would be fun," Chelsea agreed. "But what people are really looking for is meaning, Lanna. And your ballad, umm…"

"I haven't decided on a title for it yet."

"Your unnamed ballad has meaning in droves."

Lanna was prettily pink again, and Chelsea wished she could portray this to the world: Lanna Linnet, smiling in genuine happiness, a forkful of yam pudding in her hand. This was a Lanna Linnet people could fall joyfully in love with – sweet, enchanting, quirky, bubbly, not the blonde yoga-loving veggie-eating hyperactively laughing one-hit-wonder. This Lanna was chock-full of real personality, not the caricature she had been forced to portray.

Just then, a look outside the window showed her a setting sun.

"Oh!" Chelsea exclaimed. "It's getting late now, Lanna, but thank you so much for the impromptu concert and the delicious food. I loved it. I love you," she added, smiling. "It's awesome. Lanna, I promise I'll buy your album the minute it comes out. The second. I'll preorder it and get your autograph on it the second your album comes out."

"Thank you so much, Chelsea," Lanna smiled. As the starlet ushered the rancher out the door, they shared a quick hug and Chelsea left, smiling, her head full of song.

ranchgirlgotback

Ranchie is currently listening to: The Caged Bird Sings

I don't know why, but recently I've rediscovered a love for Lanna Linnet. She actually has this really lovely voice, and the lyrics for The Caged Bird Sings…wow. I wish she'd make a comeback, the world is missing out!

Comments are enabled by Disqus.

enchantedtomeetyou: Lanna Linnet? Who's that?

rosesandthornystems: She's like, at rehab, for drugging up when her follow-up singles bombed. Serves her right, she was such a loser at the It Takes Guts to be a Gourmet salad episode.

alanismorissetteismyqueen: Don't you remember the way the netizens made fun of her at that Guts to be a Gourmet episode? She was like, "Ummm, salad, wow!" Who DOES that? Who loves salad?

randomhaterhatin: Whore much? She's so Botoxed, she doesn't even have brain folds anymore.

game-of-thr0nes: I agree, Ranchie! Lanna Linnet is AWESOME. Wherever she is, I hope she's not listening to her haters.

Summer continued on, and Chelsea amassed bushels of corn and tomatoes, which were happily shipped off by Taro and his family. She also started planting onions, which made Pierre very happy, as "there are a thousand and one recipes that include onion, Chelsea! How simply marvelous that you provide me a steady source of them. Keep them coming, Chelsea, and I shall purchase the first fruit from you always!"

She also made acquaintances with a newcomer on the island, an Easterner named Lily. She was striking, with deep dark hair beaded with what looked like jade, a penchant for always dressing in red silk, a very formal way of talking, and a vested interest in valuable and shiny things.

"I have a feeling," Lily said, as they both looked up at Volcano Island, "that this mine is full of pretty shiny things."

"Can you go in without getting hurt?" Chelsea asked, interested. "The miners have to don some enchanted equipment to do so, because there is great risk of burning or being trapped inside. I mean, lava…?"

Lily smiled, and tapped the jade beads in her hair. "I too carry enchantment, Chelsea. I am protected by the spirits of my ancestors and by the magic they have woven. I walk into danger unharmed."

Dee the chick and Bessy the calf also matured into Dee the chicken and Bessy the cow, respectively, and Chelsea found a new delight in sitting on the stone fence of Dee's pen, watching the chicken cluck around and peck at worms and things. Likewise, she also found joy in sitting inside the snug, warm barn, stroking Bessy and reveling in the clean hay and fodder smell of the place.

The day after she decided to purchase another cow from Mirabelle, the lady showed up at her door, carrying a basket with two kittens, one black and one white.

"Hello, Chelsea," the kindly lady smiled. "A friend's cat recently had kittens, and she couldn't provide homes for these two. I was hoping you could take one of them?"

"Oh," Chelsea breathed, and dropped to her knees. She held out a hand to the kittens, and waited for them to come investigate. "What darlings!"

"They're very good mousers, dear," Mirabelle encouraged. "Their parents were excellent, and just today I found them tag-teaming a mouse in our feed bins! They're young yet, but they'll definitely be very good farm cats. Which will you choose, dear?"

Just then, the little white kitten bumped her nose against Chelsea's hand.

"This one," Chelsea said decisively, carefully picking up the little white kitten. The black one mewed in displeasure. "My little…" she carefully checked the little one's genitals "…snow queen Elsa."

Mirabelle laughed outright. "I do so love your name choices, dear. Alright them, you little tom, up you get!" The black kitten jumped into the basket she was carrying, and curled up into the warm soft flannels inside. "I have a home in mind for this little one, so don't think on him too much. Goodbye Chelsea, goodbye, Elsa! Thank you so much again."

The twenty-first of summer was Elliot's birthday. Natalie went around on the twentieth, inviting people to their house for a surprise party.

"So the idea is, we totally ignore Elliot the whole day," she shared excitedly to the gaggle of girls gathered in the diner. "I mean, not ignore, Julia," she said pointedly, causing the halfway-to-protesting blonde to blush and everyone to laugh. "But pretend we don't remember it's his birthday. Yes, even you, Chelsea, Miss-I-Have-A-Magic-Calendar-Where-I-Recorded-Everyone's-Birthday! Don't give gifts to him or anything, just say hey and move on. Then six pm on the dot, show up at the house. I've already plotted this out, everyone just needs to follow their roles. When Elliot shows up at the door, everyone goes yaaay happy birthday biggest dork on the planet!"

Lily whispered to Chelsea, as an aside, "Her words are insulting yet her tone is very fond. Is this the way your friend expresses love to her brother?"

Silently, Chelsea boggled at how quickly Lily grasped the dynamics between Natalie and Elliot, when Elliot could barely grasp it himself. "Yes," she whispered back.

So on the twenty-first of summer, Chelsea spent the day putting corn, tomatoes, and onions into her shipping bin at one-hour intervals, then calling down to Taro, "Taro, I've put in a new shipment! Can Elliot come and get it?"

"No problem!" he always hollered back, being party to his granddaughter's plot. "Elliot, get movin'!"

And thus, poor Elliot was forced to run back and forth from Lenore Ranch to the little shed where the Petersons kept the crates for boxing perishable crops. It was hot, heavy work under the summer sun, because Chelsea had had a bumper crop and she had lots of things to ship. Also, Elliot needed to be very careful when carrying the crops, because it wouldn't do to have them bruise. Chelsea felt sorry for him, carrying crops and things and never uttering a word of complaint or sadness that everyone seemed to have forgotten his birthday.

Finally, 6pm struck, and Chelsea got the all-clear from Natalie to stop Elliot's torture. She patted the poor, panting guy's back and said, "Elliot, you did a lot of hard work today. Fancy some blueberry juice to perk you up?"

Elliot beamed. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble?"

"No trouble at all," Chelsea said, bustling into her kitchen and getting the chilled blueberry juice she had prepared. "Here you go. There're a lot of blueberry patches around the islands, I've been thinking of transplanting a few so I don't have to go foraging for them next summer."

"I'd be very happy to help you with that," Elliot offered. This guy. He was definitely the epitome of Mr. Nice Guy. "I think we have some root bags at home."

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble," she parroted, then laughed. "Go on home, Elliot, and thank you so much for today."

"Accompany me?" Elliot asked. "I know Mom would have prepared a great dinner, at least…"

"A great dinner?" Chelsea feigned curiosity. "Why, what's up?"

"It's my…" Elliot began, then cut himself off. "No, Mom always prepares a great dinner when she knows it's been a busy day. And it's almost always busy, so…yes. She'll have made too much, so come to dinner with us?"

"With pleasure," Chelsea smirked wickedly.

They kept chattering on about inconsequential things, until they reached the threshold of the Peterson family home.

"That's odd…it's dark," Elliot murmured, as he fumbled with the doorknob. "And locked. It's usually never locked…Wait a moment, Chelsea, I've got the key here…"

He twisted the key a little, then shoved.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ELLIOT!" everyone screamed, and the lights flicked on.

"Who – what – what?" Elliot stammered, a huge smile breaking onto his face. "Natalie, you didn't forget?"

Natalie was at the forefront of the throng that was made up most of Sunshine Islands' residents. She grinned at him, thumping his back solidly. "As if I'd forget the day Mom spawned a dork," she mocked, then grinned again. "Happy birthday, dork prince! Twenty-three. Who'd have thought. Most woulda thought you'd've died from nerd poisoning by now."

"Oh, Natalie," Elliot breathed, eyes shining, then threw his arms around his sister and hugged her tightly.

"Aawww," everyone chorused.

Felicia glided forward, kissing her son on both cheeks. "Happy birthday, my sweet boy," she murmured. Then Taro limped forward, rapping his cane on the floor. "You're a good boy," he said gruffly. "Hope you have many more years to live, eh?"

"Yes, Grandpa," Elliot said, smiling at the old man.

"Let's eat!" Natalie proposed, and everyone cheered.

It was a very happy birthday, really. Everyone was there – the girls, the guys, their parents…even Regis had deigned to come down from his mansion. Sabrina, of course, was delighted by this occurrence, as her father rarely joined in social activities. She was a bustle of flowy pink and purple skirts, getting her father food as he debated prices and merchandise with Chen. Charlie and Eliza were running wild, stuffing their faces with sweets. Nobody really wanted to stop them, either, although Chen and Gannon would have the mother of sugar crashes to deal with later.

Will was there, Chelsea noticed, but he hung around Regis, mostly. He did wish Elliot a happy birthday, and when Chelsea saw him, her heart didn't feel like curling up and dying anymore.

Good thing, she thought, and decided to smile at him. A split-second of surprise showed on his face, but he smiled back.

"It's time to cut the cake!" Felicia declared. "I'd just like to say thank you to Pierre, who gave me the recipe for this lovely cake. Everyone, sing!"

"Happy birthday to you," everyone obediently sang, "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Elliot…"

…Lanna's voice, holding the highest note with ease…

"Happy birthday to you!"

Everyone clapped, huge smiles on their faces, and none was larger than Elliot's as he took in his mother's lovingly made cake.

It was a simple sheet cake, but with artful decorations of vegetables and such on it. "Just fondant," Felicia assured everyone, "not actually vegetable-flavored. It would rather ruin the point, wouldn't it?"

In the middle was carefully iced, "Happy 23rd birthday, Elliot! Love, your family and all the Sunshine Islanders." Then at the edge of the message were four little fondant people – one old man, stooped over a cane, a tall woman with flowing pink hair, and a boy and girl with pink hair, who seemed to be arguing with each other.

Chelsea rather failed to stifle a snort at that. Natalie definitely did.

There were no candles to blow out, so Elliot quickly cut the cake and started doling out slices. First he gave one to his mother, smiling graciously, then to his grandfather, sister, and then finally, with a shy smile, he presented one to Julia.

He hurriedly gave one to Mirabelle, too, but everyone saw the sweet smiles shared between Mr. Nice Guy and the sweet Golden Girl.

Everyone soon had a slice of cake, and were happily eating away.

…All except Vaughn.

He was frowning down at the slice of cake he had in his hand, where a little fondant carrot rested.

"It's a carrot," he stated to Julia. "I hate carrots."

"Oh, for Goddess's sake Vaughn, it's just fondant," Julia sighed. "Look, if it makes you any better I'll switch with you. Here. Turnip fondants for carrot fondant."

"It's a carrot. That makes it carrot cake."

"Goddess," Julia said, exasperated. "It's just sponge cake! Go on, Vaughn, I've taken your carrot fondant. Just eat the damn thing already, Goddess grant me patience."

"Careful," Vaughn said dryly. "If Elliot hears you swearing he'll lose the honey-haired wholesome sweetheart image he has of you."

Julia blushed prettily, but stood her ground. "Elliot isn't in the equation here, Vaughn, the cake is. Go on and eat it, Felicia baked it, it's good."

Just then, Vaughn caught sight of Chelsea watching them amusedly from the sidelines. "Be right back," he said, and made way to Chelsea.

Chelsea raised her eyebrows as the cowboy made it to her. "What's up, Vaughn?" she said. And if it was a touch cool, well, she was remembering the last time they interacted with each other.

"I got something for you," he said. "Found it while traveling. Thought it was one of the rocks you'd been collecting, so I held on to it for you."

And from his pocket, he withdrew a Sun Stone.

"Well?" he asked, when Chelsea failed to respond. "Aren't you gonna take it?"

Chelsea jerked, then smiled at him, all coolness gone. "Thank you so much, Vaughn," she said, taking the Sun Stone from his hand. "This is really helpful, I'll soon have enough for Mushroom Island! Thanks."

"Mushrooms are good," he said gruffly, then turned to leave.

"Wait!" Chelsea cried out.

He turned halfway, waiting.

Why did you say I wasn't pretty? Does this mean you believe in my quest now? Do you understand what I meant when I said the Harvest Goddess was important? Are you happy traveling and never staying in one place for long?

She settled for the least cutting and personal option, saying lamely, "I'm sorry about the way I acted the day we first met. You know…the debate. When I bombarded you with the Harvest Goddess."

"It was my birthday," he said expressionlessly.

"Oh!" Chelsea said, blushing. "Well…I'm sorry. Again. Doubly. It probably wasn't a very good birthday present, huh? Let alone an introduction…"

"I didn't mind," Vaughn murmured. "It was…invigorating."

Then, as if sensing he'd said to much, he turned around and left, leaving Chelsea gaping, the warmth of the Sun Stone in her hand.

Invigorating…?

When Chelsea went to sleep that night, her dreams were filled with warmth of grazing fingers and deep purple eyes and a gruff voice saying, "Invigorating…"

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I am so ridiculously proud of this chapter I can't even.

I really wish I could art. I have ideas for Sabrina's summer outfit - nothing flashy, it's not her style, but maybe a pink maxi skirt and a purple top and everything's sweet and swishy and stuff. And Vaughn in a fitted black shirt and dark wash denim. TELL ME YOU'RE NOT DROOLING.

I love writing Elliot and Natalie, their dynamic is awesome.

Lanna's haters are awful, I know. Even the ones that are "indifferent" to her are still harboring some sort of dislike. I really blame the manager. Wrong handling of her career all the way.

Also: the debut of Lanna's lyrics! I've got my imagined tune for Purple (Make It Pop) stuck in my head now...

Your reviews are cheesecake! Mwa!