takes care of us. She’s a good cook, too.” Liam said a silent prayer that the social worker wouldn’t insist on a conversation with Mrs. Smalley. Though Seamus paid her a small salary to serve as their baby-sitter, she usually didn’t show up. And when she did, she was always drunk. Conor had told her long ago that they didn’t need her help, even though Seamus continued to pay her.
The teakettle screeched and Liam snatched it up from the stove. He’d watched Conor make coffee a hundred times, his brother’s choice of drink when he had to stay up late to study. He grabbed the sugar bowl and scooped a generous measure into the bottom of the cup before filling it with hot water. “Do you want milk?” he asked.
A smile broke across Mrs. Witchell’s face as he handed her the cup. “No, this is fine.” She took a sip and then winced. “It’s very good.” For a long moment she stared at him, then sighed. “I really have to be going. I have another appointment in a half hour. I’m just going to go talk to your father.”
“But he’s not awake,” Liam pleaded.
She stared down at him for a long moment, then sighed. “All right, why don’t I just look in on your father, just to make sure he’s here with you? Then I’ll leave my card and you can have him call me once he wakes up.”
Liam gave her a wide smile, the kind of smile that all the girls at school seemed to like. “All right,” he said. “But you have to promise to be quiet.”
She set her cup down and Liam grabbed her hand, pulling her along to the bedroom. He pushed open the door and allowed her to step inside. The lump on the bed breathed roughly, a perfect mimic by the twins. Liam quickly pulled the social worker back out of the room and shut the door.
“Fine,” she murmured.
By the time Liam showed her out, he could barely contain his relief. He watched her descend the front steps and walk down the block to her car, and as it drove by, he let out a loud whoop. A few seconds later Sean and Brian emerged from the bedroom. “She’s gone!”
Sean grabbed Liam around the waist and gave him a fierce hug. “I knew you could do it. What did she say?”
Liam handed him the card. “She said Da is supposed to call her. Today.” He turned to Brian. “Go get your cards. I want my ten.”
The twins looked at each other, Brian balking at the request. “We made a deal,” Sean admitted.
Liam settled onto the sofa and after Brian and Sean presented him with their treasured collections, he silently flipped through them, weighing the value of the cards he wanted. “Go get me some chocolate milk,” he ordered Sean. “And you have to tell me a story,” he said to Brian.
“No way,” Brian cried.
“You promised. If you don’t tell me a Mighty Quinn story, then I get twenty cards instead of ten.”
“Tell him a story,” Sean ordered.
“You tell him,” Brian countered.
“I’m getting him chocolate milk. And you’re better at stories.”
“Tell me the one about the boy with the silver tongue,” Liam said. “I like that one.”
“This is the story of Riagan Quinn,” Brian began. “Riagan was a foundling—”
“His father was killed in battle,” Liam interjected.
“And his dying mother left him in the forest,” Brian continued grudgingly. “And no one knew his real name, or where he came from. The fairies gave him the name Riagan ’cause it meant ‘little king.’ The forest was wild with wolves, but the fairies watched over him, feeding him drops of dew from their wands.”
“Magic drops of dew,” Liam added.
“Yeah, but that comes later. I’m not supposed to tell that part first.”
Liam snuggled down on the sofa, distractedly examining a Bucky Dent card as his brother’s voice wove the familiar tale. He loved the Mighty Quinn stories, especially this one. When his father or one of his older brothers decided to tell a story, Liam could almost picture Ireland. Brendan was the best storyteller and then his da. But in his da’s stories, the women were always the enemy and Liam wasn’t sure he liked that.
“One day, a poor beggar woman wandered into the forest, looking for food for her starving family and she came upon the wee child. But where were the babe’s parents? she wondered. They were probably doing the same thing she was, gathering food in the forest. So she sat and waited for them to return.”
“But they never came because Riagan didn’t have parents,” Liam said.
“He did. No one knew who they were,” Brian said.
“No, he didn’t. He was an orphan,” Liam said.
“If you know the story so good, then why don’t you tell it?” Brian snatched the Bucky Dent card away. “You can’t have that one. Take the Carlton Fisk.”
“As darkness fell, the woman began to worry,” Liam said, prompting him to continue as he clamped his fingers on the Bucky Dent card and pulled.
Brian gave up the card. “She couldn’t leave the baby in the woods for surely he’d be eaten by the wolves. But she already had seven children to feed at home. She walked away, but her heart had been captured by Riagan’s sweet smile. In the end, she returned and carried him out of the woods. The fairies watched from the shadows, happy to see that Riagan had found a loving home.”
Just then, the front door opened and Conor stepped inside. He shrugged out of his jacket, then glanced over at his brothers, giving them a suspicious look. “What are you three up to? You’re supposed to be doing your homework when I come home.”
“A story,” Liam said. “A Mighty Quinn story. Come and tell it. Brian doesn’t do it the right way. It’s the one about Riagan and the silver tongue.” Conor groaned, but he didn’t refuse. In truth, Conor rarely refused Liam anything. “The lady found him in the forest and took him home. That’s where we are,” Liam prompted.
Conor sat between Brian and Liam, throwing his arms along the back of the sofa. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, then began to spin the tales that had become a regular part of their evenings together. There were so many Mighty Quinn tales to choose from, all of them featuring one of their long-ago ancestors, all of them exciting and heroic.
“Riagan settled into his new family,” Conor said. “And soon their fortunes seemed to change. Everyone in the village came to see the baby and were so captivated by him that they left small gifts of food and clothing. And as Riagan grew, he became more and more handsome. And the drops of dew that the fairies had fed him had given him a silver tongue. Riagan could talk anyone into anything.”
Liam snuggled against his brother’s side, his earlier fears fading. Everything would be all right. Conor would make it right.
“Around the time Riagan was growing tall and strong, the king died and Queen Comyna came into power over the people of Ireland. She was greedy and suspicious and coveted all things of beauty and value, believing these things to be reserved for those of noble birth. And while her husband was generous with the poor people of his kingdom, his queen wasn’t.
