Her name was never spoken in the presence of their father but Conor talked about her every now and then. She had been beautiful, with long dark hair and pretty green eyes. And though Brian had been only three when she left, he remembered one thing-the red flowered apron that she wore every morning. He could still feel the starched fabric between his fingers.

"Odran and the giant," Sean said.

"Murchadh Quinn, the mighty seaman," Liam suggested.

"Eamon and the enchantress," Brian insisted. Though Brendan was only eleven, he told the tales the best. He wove stories full of excitement and vivid images, better than any action movie or comic book.

"I just remembered a story that Da told a long time ago when Con and Dylan and I were younger," Brendan said. "I don't think you've ever heard this one. It's about Riddoc Quinn who was the smartest of all our Quinn ancestors. In fact, Riddoc Quinn knew everything."

"No one can know everything," Brian said.

"Ah, but Riddoc did. For he was a very watchful lad. He didn't talk much, but saw a lot." Brendan pointed to his temple. "And he was also a great thinker. Like me. And a little like Liam, too."

"Get on with the story, gobdaw," Sean said.

Brendan cleared his throat. "Riddoc Quinn lived in a tiny village on the Irish seacoast in a small stone cottage perched on a craggy cliff. His parents were plain and simple folk who couldn't read or write, but Riddoc taught himself to do both. He read every book in the village and when there were none left, he visited nearby towns to borrow more. But that wasn't enough. Riddoc spoke with every person who passed through the village, asking of their travels, wanting to know about the rest of the world."

"Is this going to be one of those stories that we're supposed to learn something from?" Sean muttered. "Like study hard and stay in school?"

Brendan reached over Liam's head and gave Sean a cuff. "Shut up or I'll make you tell the story. And you're just about the worst storyteller in all of Southie."