"Praise is one thing," she temporized. "Sales are another. We'll see what we see."

"And you think I'm crummy at accepting compliments!" Joby teased. "You sold three paintings just tonight! Isn't that a hint?"

"All to Hamilton," she said. "I'll need a larger customer base than that."

"I don't know," Joby mused, hunching his shoulders. "She's awfully rich. . . ."

" 'Awfully' is right," Laura drawled. "I've never met anyone who made it so hard to smile when they're throwing money at you." She shook her head, staring out into the starry night. "She talked as if it were me she was buying."

"Well, I'm just very happy that you're painting again," Joby said. "I'm already saving up to expand your customer base by at least one, if that helps any."

"Aren't you sweet," Laura said, turning to smile at him in the moonlight. "But the day I let you pay for one of my paintings is the day-"

"What!" Joby cut her off playfully. "My money's not as good as Hamilton's?"

As they turned into the gravel drive, they were surprised to see another car already parked there.

"Who's that?" asked Joby.

"I have no idea," Laura said, sounding concerned.

As they pulled up beside it, Joby saw a tall broad-shouldered man sitting in the darkness on the steps to Laura's door, his face barely lit by the bounce of Joby's headlights off the house.

"Can I help you?" Joby asked, stepping from his car.

The man was silent for a moment, then said uncertainly, "I'm looking for Laura Bayer. Sorry, Laura Raulins, I guess. I was given directions to this house." He hesitated, then said, "Are you her husband?"

"No, he's not," Laura said, emerging from the other side of Joby's car. "And it's Laura Bayer again. Do I know you?"

"Laura?" the man said. The dim light glinted off teeth, and even in the strange half light, Joby could not have mistaken that smile. "Ben?" he said, incredulous.

"Oh my God!" Laura gasped. "Ben, is that you?"

"Joby?" Ben blurted out. "What are you doing here?" He laughed suddenly, and Joby rushed to embrace his old friend, a step ahead of Laura.

"I live here!" Joby said happily. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You live here? With Laura?" Ben said, sounding even more surprised.

"Of course not," Laura laughed, hugging Ben in turn. "We're just coming back from an opening of my paintings in town. I wish you'd been there! Why didn't you tell me you were coming? And how did you find me anyway?"

"Your parents told me where you were. I thought I'd surprise you."

Joby's delight began to sour. What had Laura meant by "of course not"? And come to think of it . . .

"So what on earth brings you to Taubolt, Ben?" Joby asked a bit too cheerfully.

"I haven't seen Laura in years." He shrugged. "I thought I'd come visit. Her folks didn't tell me you were here though." He smiled that sunny smile Joby remembered so well. "Two for one! I feel like a lottery winner!"

I'll bet, Joby thought.

"Well, let's not stand out here in the dark," Laura said. "Come inside!"

"Whoa!" Ben said, as he followed them up the wobbly stairs. "You should fix these steps before they kill somebody."

"Sorry," she said self-consciously, "I've gotten used to it, I guess, and I'm not much of a handyman."

"Well, maybe I can shore it up a little for you tomorrow," Ben offered.

Joby silently berated himself for having failed to make the same offer long ago, but it had never wobbled this badly until Ben had thumped his bulk down on it. Their old friend had grown into quite the giant since college. Two hundred twenty, if he was an ounce. . . . All of it muscle, Joby didn't doubt.

They'd hardly gotten inside, when Laura realized she'd left her coat in the car, and asked Joby to go down and get it while she fixed them all some snacks.

Joby went, wondering why she hadn't sent Ben instead, as if that made any sense. Nor was his state of mind improved when he came back inside a moment later, rather quietly, and heard voices hushed in urgent conversation from the kitchen. He shut the door behind him as softly as he could, but the voices stopped.

"You want beer, Joby," Laura called cheerfully, "or soda?"

Ben came into the hallway holding a beer.

"Beer," said Joby.

Ben smiled and shook his head. "I can't believe we're all together again."

"Neither can I," Joby answered, forcing a smile in return.

"You're lookin' good, Joby. This place must agree with you."

"You look like a movie star, as usual," Joby said, unable to pretend it wasn't true.

Ben's smile became a bit uncertain. "That's some sky tonight," he said back through the kitchen door to Laura. "You guys have as many stars out here as I ever saw in the mountains. Think I'll go out and take another look. Want to join me, Joby?" he asked as he passed, heading for the door.

"Sure." Joby shrugged.

They'd hardly gotten outside before Ben leaned up against the railing, and asked, "So, are you two together finally?"

Joby had to admire Ben's directness, and felt relieved that they wouldn't have to beat around the bush. "We're not married yet, if that's what you mean." He shrugged again. "But we've been dating for a year. You here for the reason I think you are?"

Ben looked away uncomfortably, grinning sheepishly. "Am I that obvious?"

Joby said nothing, caught between a series of conflicting emotions.

"Listen, Joby," Ben said, turning back to look him frankly in the eyes. "This isn't going to get complicated. Yes, I came here looking for Laura, and yes I was hoping she might be glad to see me. I've been a lot of places since we all parted company, and never met anyone who held a candle to her. But I had no idea you were here. I only phoned her parents once and said I was an old friend trying to track Laura down. They asked a few questions about me, but never mentioned you."

Wondering why they hadn't, Joby wondered even more uncomfortably whether Laura had ever told them she was seeing him, and if not, why not?

"I had no idea what I'd find here, Joby," Ben sighed. "I just figured I'd come see and play it by ear from there. Now I see you're here, my ear says butt out, loud and clear. I hated what happened to us all the first time. No way I'm going there again. It's really great to see you both, but if you'd like me to go, I'll understand completely."

"Well, no," Joby said, suddenly feeling catty and ashamed. "Of course I don't want you to go. I . . . I've missed you, Ben. It's great to see you too."

With a wry look, Ben said, "Then pray, accept my full surrender, your highness, and my renewed vow of fealty."

"Oh my God!" Joby chuckled. "You know, I teach at the high school here, and, you'll never believe this, but the kids have started up their own Roundtable club. They even leave the same little tokens."

"You never could go anywhere without infecting people," Ben said. The fondness on his face was unsettling. "I've thought about you a lot, Joby. I can't tell you how happy it makes me to find you looking so much better than you did last time we met."

"A lot's changed since then," Joby said, quickly suppressing unpleasant memories of their last encounter, years ago in Berkeley. "Everything, really. I've finally found my place in the world." He couldn't help smiling. "I'm very happy now."

"I can tell." Ben grinned, setting his beer on the railing, and folding his arms. "I'd have tried to look you up before, I guess, but to be honest, it almost killed me to see you like that in Berkeley. I guess I just . . . hid from you after that. I'm sorry."

"I've done my share of hiding too," Joby said. "A lot more than you." There was an awkward pause, then he asked, "So how long can you stay?"

"No place I really have to be right now." Ben shrugged. "I've saved up enough money to drift for a while."

"I rent a room at the Primrose Picket Inn in town," Joby said. "The innkeeper is a very good friend. I'm pretty sure she'll give you a pretty sweet deal there."

"That'd be great." Ben smiled.

"Guess we'd better go in then," Joby said. "Laura will think we're out here jousting to the death or something."

"No," Ben smiled quietly, "she knows us both too well, and she knows I know who's always owned her heart."

Joby smiled gratefully and nodded toward the door, wondering how he could have felt so threatened by such a fine old friend. The finest friend he'd ever had, or likely ever would. With Laura back, and now Ben as well, he could think of nothing more to wish for. His happiness was complete.

As much as Nacho resented the flood of strangers pouring into Taubolt, he had to admit they'd brought some pretty cool toys with them; like computers, which he'd taken to as a match takes to fire, and most of all, skateboards. From the moment he'd watched a child half his age "ollie" off a curb on Shea Street, Nacho had been hooked. Now there was nothing he enjoyed more than being out on a brisk morning like this one, pushing the envelope on his beloved skateboard, his shraupmobile. Nacho's board had become a virtual appendage, a second heart, a set of wings.

It was not entirely without malice, however, that he pivoted into a long, loud backside tailslide along the curb as he approached Karl Foster's chichi boutique. For Nacho, the man had come to represent all that was noxious about the invading hoard. Having purchased his little piece of the rock, Foster now treated people who'd been here for generations as if they were just so much trailer trash in his way. Sure enough, before Nacho had come within twenty feet of Karl's storefront, the man was racing out onto his deck like an angry dog.

Ignoring Karl's wild gesticulations and shouts of outrage, Nacho did a 180 nollie heel flip on the sidewalk right in front of him, then popped his board up into one hand and sat down on the curb with his back to the infuriated merchant.

"Didn't you hear me?" Karl demanded ridiculously from the deck behind him. "I asked you to leave! This is a place of business!"

"You didn't ask," Nacho said without turning to look at him. "You ordered. And this is a public sidewalk, so I've got every right to sit here and catch my breath." The man made no reply, but Nacho felt his angry silence like a furnace at his back. Turning to look at him, Nacho asked, "What's your problem, Foster?"

"My problem?" Karl barked incredulously. "You kids are out here every day, trampling my garden, damaging my stairs, leaning on my deck and fence with your dirty, baggy clothes and surly looks and foul language, like a gang of dope-smoking terrorists scaring off all my customers, and you ask what's my problem? . . . Don't you have parents? Didn't anyone teach you anything about being human beings?"

"Yeah," Nacho said. "They taught me for twenty years before dopeltons like you came here waving fistfuls of money and telling us all we had no right to be seen around your town anymore. This was our home before it was your place of business, Foster."

"Here you are," Foster drawled, "how many years out of high school? And what are you doing with your life?"

"As it happens, richard," Nacho snapped, beginning to boil. "I do DHTML and JavaScript with back-end server perl/CGI scripts for high-profile e-commerce Web site architecture, as well as audio/video capture and digitized real-time media streaming. You ever thought about a Web site, Karl? You'd be amazed how it can boost business, even for a little trinket shop like yours. If you're interested, I could fit you in later this week sometime. How's Wednesday look?"

Karl just glared at him and curled his lip.

"Hey," Nacho said apologetically, "did I lose you with the technical stuff? Here, let's try it in simpler terms." He began talking very slowly. "A Web site is a-"

"You punks think you're so smart, don't you," Karl cut him off, "just because you sit around playing computer games while the rest of us are out here working for a living. But you'll sing a very different tune when we get a sheriff in this town. You try these tricks in front of my store then, I'll call the law down on you so hard it'll make your cocky little teeth rattle. What you do with that board constitutes a clear public nuisance, boy, and they'll confiscate it. Then you can walk here to make fun of me."

"Woof," Nacho said. "Woof, woof."

Karl clearly had no idea what to make of this response.

"What's it like, bein' Hamilton's little lapdog, Karl?" Nacho asked. "She feed her pretty boy yummy little doggy treats?"

"I don't have to take this." Foster sneered and turned to go back inside his store, but as he reached the entrance he turned back. "You know, there's a lot of support around here for making skateboarding illegal inside town limits, son. When they take your toys away, they may give you hoodlums tickets too. Hope your computer business pays well enough to cover the cost." Then he spun away into his shop.

Filled with disgust, Nacho jumped onto his deck, set his board down, and kick-flipped the steps back onto the sidewalk, leaving a splintered gouge in Karl's top stair.

Karl came racing out after him screaming like a banshee, but Nacho was already soaring down the street, too far away to hear, too free to care.

"It's about commitment!" Greensong insisted. "You can't say, 'I stand for justice' and then do nothing!"

"Of course not," Rose said. "But there are ways to act without becoming just like what you're acting against."

"There's no resemblance between me and them!" Greensong shouted. "They trash whole ecosystems to enrich themselves! I'm saving whole ecosystems for free!"

"Saving lives by taking lives?" Bellindi asked quietly. "The kinds of things you suggested to those kids could have left men maimed or even killed. Do you think it'll be easier to save our forests when everyone thinks we're criminals and they're the victims?"

"Are a few dead men worse than the extinction of every salmon on the West Coast?" Greensong screeched, waving toward the window of her rented cabin as if an entire school of them were swimming in the twilight just outside. "Everything that lives in these forests is in danger of extinction. Men aren't! I'm sorry, but you're a couple of very nice girls from a very nice place that knows nothing about the real world."

"If your 'real world' is about killing people to protest their lack of concern for the sacredness of life," Bellindi said darkly, "I don't think I want any of it here. And I doubt anyone else will either. If you think fighting Ferristaff all by yourself will be more effective, just keep spouting suggestions like the ones you've been making. You'll have your forces down to one in no time."

"If you're so sure of your position," Rose asked, "why did you propose these things to no one but a bunch of kids?"

"Because they can still hear me," Greensong spat. "They're not already brainwashed like the two of you."

"Or because they're so much easier for you to brainwash," Rose replied evenly. "We came up here because we want to see Ferristaff stopped worse than you do, and you're about to hand him the war. I'm not about to let that happen. Trust me, if there's one tree spiked, one bomb made around here," she rolled her eyes, unable to believe Greensong had even suggested such a thing, "we will know, and we will report you."

"You traitorous little bitches." Greensong sneered. "Are you sleeping with Ferristaff, or just running his errands?"

Rose looked at Bellindi, who was clearly struggling to keep her composure. "Hate us all you want," Rose shrugged, turning back to Greensong, "but if you come up with any more plans that stupid, at least have the courage to propose them to adults next time, not just Taubolt's kids."

She and Bellindi turned to leave, wanting to finish the long walk home from Greensong's isolated cabin before total darkness, but as they reached the door, something crashed through a window to their right, spraying glass onto the table there before skidding to a halt on the floor. As both girls froze, a second, closer window shattered. Greensong bit off a scream as a fist-size rock passed within inches of her shoulder and thudded off a low cabinet. Rose and Bellindi crouched down and scurried back toward Greensong who was cowering behind a kitchen chair-the only cover close at hand. The sound of laughter blossomed not far outside. Several men, from the sound of it.

"Hey, Greendyke!" bellowed one of the men outside. "Wanna get lucky?"

More laughter, loud and mean.

"We do!" shouted a second man. "Come out and dance, you tree-huggin' bitch!"

"Yeah!" laughed the first man, "I wanna spike your tree, darlin'!"

More hilarity, and the sound of boots crunching on gravel as the men approached.

"I've got a gun!" Greensong shouted desperately.

Perhaps it was the fear in her voice that gave her away, but the men outside just laughed. "So have I, lady!" jeered the second man's voice. "Hot, hard, and loaded."

"Know which end to shoot from, honey-cum?" called the first man.