"You've got to be joking!"

Siobhan tossed a crate of supplies into the back of her truck and wheeled to face Peter. She'd felt cranky all weekend, her back hurt, there had been four calls waiting on her machine this morning – all off in different directions, of course – and now this? She planted her hands on her hips and glared. "How did I get dragged into this?"

"Well, I had to do something," Peter protested. He leaned his bike against Siobhan's fence and bent to untie his trainers. "Ambrose was about to charge him with vandalism and trespass, just when he was cleaning up his act...and the grafitti. It could have gone on his permanent record."

"So?"

Peter gave her a reproachful look. "Come on, Siobhan. You're telling me you never made a mistake when you were that age?"

"I'm telling you I don't see how it's my problem if some hoodlum Dublin transplant has."

"You'll be doing a good thing."

"That's your hobby, Peter, not mine! I'm a veterinarian – not a social worker and not a babysitter. And I don't need an assistant. I have you."

"Cullen can work after school and on Saturdays, when I'm needed in the pub." Peter pulled on the work boots he'd borrowed from Brendan and began to lace them up. "He's good with animals, Siobhan. Better than I am, that's for sure. You saw him yourself up at the Rourkes'."

Siobhan sighed in exasperation and slammed the truck door hard enough to make the whole vehicle vibrate. "From what I hear, he's also good at picking fights and starting trouble." She made her way to the cab and Peter, after hurriedly tying his boots, jogged around to the passenger side.

"He's a kid, Siobhan. He just needs another chance. Try it for a week."

Siobhan turned the key and rammed the truck into gear. She turned a piercing stare on Peter. "One week. And it'll be a lucky day for you if I don't sack you both after that."

The stragglers from Fitzgerald's Monday lunch crowd were just pushing their chairs back from their tables when Brian breezed through the door.

"Sure, there's no place on God's earth lovelier than Ballykissangel in springtime!" he declared to the world in general, sweeping off his hat and sliding onto the stool next to Brendan. "Another of whatever this gentleman's drinking, Assumpta, and bring me one of the same."

Brendan, who had been just about to return to school to prepare for his afternoon classes, consulted his watch, shrugged, and pushed his glass toward Assumpta.

"Good trip, then, Brian?"

"You might say so. You might indeed," Quigley answered heartily, "and it's yourself I have to thank."

"Me?" Brendan reached for the fresh pint Assumpta had just placed before him, glancing sideways at Brian.

"Mmm," Brian nodded, drinking deeply of his own stout. "You and your partners in crime."

Brendan raised an eyebrow at Assumpta, who shrugged blankly and shook her head. Brian, for his part, didn't seem in any hurry to offer further explanation. He took another drink and settled more comfortably on his seat with a self-satisfied sigh.

Assumpta rolled her eyes. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Are going to tell us what you've got up your sleeve or should we go on about our business?"

Brian shot her a wry look. "Suddenly she's an advocate of full disclosure." Color flared into Assumpta's cheeks, and she glared at him. He chuckled. "Oh, get down off your high horse, would you? There's nothing up my sleeve...unless you count the deal that's going to put this town back on the map."

"Damn," Assumpta said, turning to Brendan, "Fallen off again, have we?"

"I haven't checked recently," Brendan replied. "What's the deal this time, Brian?"

"Well," a gleam came into the businessman's eyes and he leaned forward conspiratorially, his forearms resting on the bar. "It's not exactly a secret that I've had no luck at all getting anyone to back that development up at Kilnashee. Running that road around the wood put me deep in a hole, and when the deal with the Koreans fell through I figured the gig was up. Might as well start selling off assets and call it quits. Then a couple of weeks ago I came across a piece about green travel in a trade journal."

"Green travel?" echoed Assumpta, picking up a bar rag and starting to wipe glasses.

Brian waved a hand. "Natural wonders, save the environment, that sort of thing. Anyway, this article mentioned an English ecotourism outfit looking to establish some locations within Europe. Nothing to lose, I figured, so I called them up and pitched Ballykissangel. Lo and behold, they agreed to meet with me this weekend in Dublin. Liked what they heard well enough that they're sending someone down here for a couple of days to take a look at the site." Brian slapped both palms on the bar and reached for his drink. "That's the sort of deal we're talking about!"

Brendan eyed him skeptically. "I though all those tours went to Costa Rica or Madagascar or somewhere."

"We're no Costa Rica," Assumpta put in.

"Well, sure, if you can afford to go halfway around the world, but apparently there's a whole market of tree...er...green travelers of more limited means. That's why this agency's trying to develop locations closer to home."

"And why Ballykissangel?" Brendan pressed.

Brian ticked off on his fingers. "Natural beauty, outdoor recreation, local culture, an economy that could use a boost. From their perspective, it's a perfect fit."

"You've convinced them Ballykea has all those things?" Assumpta asked. Despite her prior experience with Brian's business schemes, she felt a reluctant spark of excitement.

"Well, I figure we've got the first and the last in spades and should be able to dig up the other two if we put our minds to it," Quigley grinned. "And get this, Brendan: what really won them over was hearing about how I relocated that road in order to save the squirrels..."

"Badgers," Brendan interrupted.

"Squirrels, badgers...could be wallabies for all I care. But they ate it up! And when I told them I knew a local wildlife expert who'd be glad to lead them on a little nature walk while they're here, maybe catch sight of some of the varmints... It was beautiful. Beautiful!"

Brendan's forehead furrowed suspiciously. "What local wildlife expert?"

"The one who was so concerned about the badgers in the first place, of course."

"Oh, no," Brendan shook his head vehemently. "Absolutely not."

"Ah, come on," Brian coaxed.

"I'm not your salesman, Brian!"

"Nobody's asking you to sell anything, for God's sake! Just take them for a walk in the woods,."

"No!"

"Don't you think it's the least you can do after that business with the bones at the worksite?"

Assumpta hid a smile behind her hand. "Thought you just said that building the road around the wood was the real selling point."

Brian ignored her.

"The bones were Peter's idea, anyway," Brendan grumbled.

"Yeah, well, I've got a different job for him. Come on, Brendan. Just say you'll think about it. This is the future of the town we're talking about."

"All right, all right, I'll think about it," Brendan sighed, "Now stop laying it on so thick. I'm nearly up to my knees already."

"Good man!" Brian exclaimed, clapping Brendan on the shoulder and turning his attention behind the bar. "Now, Assumpta, what can you do in terms of local culture?"

She started. "What? Why am I in charge of culture?"

"I'll bet he wants a revival of Ryan's Mother," Brendan suggested with a twinkle.

"No, no, no," Brian said impatiently. "What we need here is something quintessentially Irish. Live music in the pub – that sort of thing."

"No chance." Assumpta shook her head. "I'm sorry, Brian, but I didn't even have live music for my re-opening. It's too expensive."

"We're not talking U2 here, Assumpta. Just a couple of fellows with a fiddle and bodhrain. You could afford that, surely."

"Where's Con O'Neill when you need him?" Brendan chimed in again, in much better spirits now that Brian had found someone new to pick on.

Assumpta shot him a look. "I thought you said you had to get back to school."

Brendan smiled genially. "Ah, but that was when my glass was empty."

She turned back to Brian. "When are these people coming? And how many are there going to be?"

"It's just one fellow, actually. He's due to come in tomorrow night. I'll tour him around on Wednesday, let him watch the match, bring him back here for the victory party afterward..."

"Assuming you win," Brendan interjected.

"For the victory party," Brian repeated stubbornly. "Picture it, Assumpta. Spirits are riding high, the stout's flowing, a reel's playing in the background...who could resist it?"

"So," Assumpta said, "just so I have this straight, you want me to hire live musicians for the benefit of one person?"

Brian leaned across the bar. "For the benefit of the town, I'm telling you. That one person could bring in years' worth of business!"

Assumpta narrowed her eyes and studied him for a long moment. Finally she sighed. "I swear to God, Brian, if this is another fiasco I'll expect reimbursement."

Brian laughed darkly and drained his glass. "Believe me when I tell you, Assumpta, if this is a fiasco you'll be in far better financial straights than I will."

Having seen the last lingering students off home, Brendan sat on the bench outside Fitzgerald's, a sack of groceries he'd just purchased at Kathleen's at his feet, pondering Quigley's latest scheme. He held the Independent, folded to the crossword, but he had yet to put pencil to paper. He was watching for Siobhan's truck.

When it rumbled up, he tucked away his paper, hefted the grocery sack and pulled the passenger door open, clapping Peter on the shoulder as he climbed down. "Peter," he said, by way of greeting. "Siobhan."

"What do you want?" Siobhan seemed no cheerier than when Brendan had last seen her.

Ignoring her question, he climbed into the seat that Peter had just vacated.

"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded, glaring at him.

"Your place," Brendan replied evenly.

"Oh, right. That went so well the last time."

Brendan chuckled. "There you are, then; it can only get better. I'm going to cook you dinner and tell you a story."

"What am I, five? And since when do you cook?"

"I'm a very good cook, I'll have you know. How do you think I've survived on my own all these years?"

"Em, by eating most of your meals at the pub and drinking the rest?"

"Well," said Brendan, settling back into the seat. "That just goes to show how much you know. Now, are you going to drive or shall I?"

She scowled at him, but shifted the truck into gear and pulled away from the curb. Brendan held back a smile. First hurdle cleared.

Siobhan maintained a stony silence as she drove down the main street, but as they crossed the bridge, her curiosity got the better of her. "All right, so what's the story?"

"Ah, well," Brendan paused for dramatic effect. "Brian's back in town."

Siobhan sniffed dismissively. "Good for him."

"Maybe," Brendan mused. "It's good for all of us, he says. Wait 'til you hear what he's up to now."