No trouble. Hah. I turned over the second-to-last page, to make sure all the changes we had agreed on were present—this time. A scurry of thin black lines caught my eye. I turned back the page in haste. A clause in very fine print was trying to avoid my eye. I slapped my hand down on it and read through my fingers, shifting them so I could finish without it getting away. Catchmeier had inserted a transitive clause, one that would make me liable for damages for any accidents within a live-hundred-yard radius of the building. Not a chance. I growled a little as I reached for my quill pen to scratch it out.

"Skeeve!"

"Huh?" I asked, brought suddenly back to the present, as the curvaceous redhead waved a sheaf of small, colorful pasteboards in my face.

"Lookie, lookie!" Bunny squealed.

Skeeve, it said in gold across the middle of the shiny, wine-colored card, without title or other qualification. The Right Answer. By Appointment Only. And at the bottom, in small but unmistakable print: Fee schedule available upon request. That last had been Bunny's idea. As she had always had a much better grasp of business than I had, I acceded. The result was a pretty professional-looking card.

"I like it," I said. Bunny's shoulders relaxed. "Why are you so surprised? I trust you."

"I know, Skeeve," she said, giving me a brilliant smile. "But it still surprises me when someone takes my word for something without hesitating. What do you think? I'm so excited!"

I had to admit I was, too. A new beginning, I hoped. One in which I would give myself the chance I had not before.

If we had decided upon the tent in haste, we more than made up for it in the time we took to work out what my new business was going to be. Every time I thought about the look on my friends' faces when I had said that I was back ... I had gone away for my own good—for everyone's good, or so I convinced myself. My return had been a spectacular failure, through my own thoughtlessness. No, my lack of insight. I would not make that kind of misstep again.