"Ppp-pagan?" Peter splutters in shock, he clearly never expected such an answer to his question.

"Yes, or 'heathen', or whatever term you like for someone who worships not your Desert God but a member or members of one of the older pantheons of gods worshipped before he gained such popularity." Maggie pushes Peter's mug of tea across the table towards him. He takes the handle, staring down at the cup to avoid looking at Maggie. "It's just plain black tea, Father, no blood or potions," Maggie tells him, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"No, no, I never thought that!" Peter answers her. "I just didn't know what to say. I've had people tell me they were atheists, agnostics, nearly every religion except that they were pagan. I admit, you caught me very off-guard!"

"I expected I would. If you have questions, I'll be happy to answer them, but I don't push information on people, most wouldn't want to hear it." Maggie stands up and gets a sugar bowl off a counter, then milk and cream from the refrigerator. "Use any of this?" she asks, setting the containers on the table. "My brother always used to ask me if I'd like a little coffee with my sugar and cream, but I say, 'if you don't like it, why drink it?', so I fix it like I like it!"

"Thanks." Peter reaches for the milk. "So, do you mind if we change the subject?"

"No, I expected you'd want to." Maggie sits back down, takes a sip of tea, and picks up a fork, digging into her brownie.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I have ALOT of questions about your religion, but more than that, I am just about dying to know how you wound up with this pub!" Peter leans eagerly forward as he speaks.

"Oy, vey, Father Clifford, you suprise me no end!" Maggie exclaims, then laughs out loud. "I thought for sure you'd be racing for the holy water to sprinkle me, casting out demons, or else running for the hills! I didn't figure you'd be more curious about the pub!" Maggie stands again, takes a few steps around the kitchen, then sits back down, clearly restless and trying to settle herself. She takes a drink of her tea.

"Well, it's a complex story, and not short, either, but here goes." Maggie swallows the last of her tea quickly, and pushed the brownie, partly eaten, off to one side. She begins:

"While you were in England with your mother, I was just arriving in Ireland as a tourist. All my family had died, parents, husband, and even younger brother, and I retired from my job to travel, as I had nothing left to anchor me in the States. Having British Isles ancestry, I started here. I was touring Ireland after visiting Scotland, Wales and England, and, on the way to visit the glacial tarn, I stopped in Kathleen Hendley's shop, and bought, on the spur of the moment, a lottery ticket. I visited the lake, gorgeous spot, and drove back up to Dublin, where I was staying in a hotel. A day or so later, I found out I'd won the lottery prize! Well, I didn't feel right taking my winnings out of the country, so I spent some time with some government people and tax advisors, and made plans to go home, sell my house, pack up, and emigrate. By the time I got back, I had decided to settle in this region, close enough to Dublin for convenience, but not in the actual city. I started looking for a place to live, and was put in contact with a Ms. Mooney. She was planning on bidding on this pub, and was looking for investors. I liked her ideas for the crafting community she was hosting and sponsoring on the land she got back from Brian Quigley, but opted out of the pub investment, which she didn't wind up with anyway. I bought a cottage in the crafter's community, and took up an old hobby, making jewelry. I didn't often come into BallyK, but I did keep up on the news, and when the pub came up for sale, I decided I wanted it, and was ready to give the idea a go, so I bought it. I've been here ever since, and happy at it, though I know I don't do anywhere near the business Assumpta did, even in the off season. Part of that, I'm afraid, is due to Kathleen Hendley, as I mentioned earlier. But since I don't depend on the pub for income, I'm okay. I think there are others in this town who she's hurt more, alas. I'm a 'live and let live' kinda person, but my patience is shot with the woman, she's hurt my friends just for being my friends, and that's just not right."

"Ah, well, no, it's not right, but I don't know exactly what to do about it, either." Peter answers her, and sits back in his chair.

Maggie pours more tea, but the pot's gone tepid. She gets up, dumps the tea in the sink, and goes to a coffee maker that has an insulated carafe in it. She pulls the carafe out, opens the lid partway, and pours what the scent reveals is coffee into her mug instead, then moves to the microwave and puts the cup inside, punching buttons. A few seconds later, the microwave beeps, and she removes the mug. During this time, Peter has simply been looking at her. He is confused, never in his experience has he met such a strange and yet utterly normal person.

"I imagine it will simply be enough for you to be you, Father. Perhaps, with Father Mac not here to support her venom, Kathleen will mellow again. If there were any eligible bachelors in the area, I'd try and fix her up, maybe if she had a life of her own she'd keep her nose out of other's lives!" Maggie chuckles, a bit ruefully.

"I hope you're right, but just in case, if I meet any parishoners in Cilldargan that seem to fit the bill, I'll send them Kathleen's way!" Peter smiles, and then chuckles as Maggie breaks out laughing again.

"You do that, Father, and maybe I'll go to work on Louis!" Maggie laughs again, then sets her coffee down. "Time for me to get Finn outside, and then hit the hay, I'm beat from all the work today!"

"I can well imagine!" Peter says, standing and setting his mug down as well. "I'll clear up a bit here, then go to bed myself, I think."

"Goodnight then, Father, and thank you." Maggie says, opening the door for Finn.

"You're welcome, but for what?" Peter turns to her.

"Everything." she replies, and steps through the door after the Setter, closing it behind her.