Folks who know Kerry Kennedy, who lost his North Side flower shop in a New Year's morning fire, talk about a place called Kerryville.

It's not particularly close to where most of us world-weary citizens live.

"It's really far away," his older sister, Kim Zuccarini, explained yesterday morning. "You need several tanks of gas or a long flight to get to reality."

But if he weren't lord mayor of Kerryville, crown prince of Lookonthebrightside, Mr. Kennedy might have let losing his home and his business to a fire slow him down. He never would have been able to provide flowers for a funeral the morning after the fire, or bouquets and centerpieces for a wedding the night after that.

I met him for coffee yesterday at his new digs just a block down Western Avenue from the burned-out shell where he had lived and worked. He's now arranging flowers in the ballroom of the Parador Inn, the bed-and-breakfast that his old friend, Ed Menzer, owns. He's living in the apartment upstairs.

"Can you believe in my cardboard box, I'm getting you some coffee?" he said as he handed me a cup.

I should tell you the K.S. Kennedy shop had never been entirely defined by its flowers. He sold greeting cards, compact discs, chocolates, hot coffee, even fresh milk and barbecue sauce. He sold me a birdhouse a couple of Christmases back that was a customized painting of my house on some kind of gourd, which is a whole lot better looking than it sounds. Ask my wife.

Anyway, that's why I wasn't surprised that Mr. Kennedy's new working space has a dance floor and a carved, old English bar. If he stays more than week, expect him to find a use for them.

Here is the way it works in Kerryville:

He knocked off work at 6 p.m. on New Year's Eve and was in his apartment above the store. A couple of friends were over and they were winding down the party about 1:30 a.m. when smoke began rising from below. They ran down the stairs, which are walled off from the shop, and when they reached the sidewalk, Mr. Kennedy saw his store pitch black but for a curtain of fire in front.

He opened the shop door -- "when I opened that door I was in Kerryville because I knew I could put it out."

But the windows blew out and the fire roared.

He ran back upstairs to rescue his 6-year-old mini-Doberman and beagle mutt, Lucy. Then he returned to the street where he would be joined by a growing throng of neighbors who emerged from their homes or were returning from New Year's parties. I threw on some clothes and a coat after my wife woke me to get me to the window and see the flames reaching high above the two-story buildings on the next block.

Firefighters did their all for hours, but his shop and The Modern Cafe next door were gutted. Adjoining businesses were damaged by smoke and water. A fire official said yesterday the cause of the fire is still undetermined.

Everyone intends to reopen.

Mr. Kennedy had no insurance for his inventory but his back-up squad is legion. His sister, Kim, flew up from Miami the night after the fire and delivered flowers on Saturday.

The class of '75 from Carbondale Community High School in southern Illinois, his graduating class, sent him a new laptop by FedEx. His Teleflora representative bought him a new printer. His wholesaler in the Strip District had the flowers ready for the funeral and the wedding. A friend at Allegheny General Hospital collected empty vases and dropped them over. People knocked at the ballroom door to offer help and he sold them flowers.

One neighborhood samaritan dropped off a bag of new sweaters from Macy's, with a card that said, "You've always been so positive and friendly, I wanted you to know how much I appreciated it."

He has so many friends in the neighborhood, the list of suspects for that gift is extensive.

This guy opened on Western Avenue only in May 2006. He followed his friend, Mr. Menzer, up from Florida after Mr. Menzer, tired of hurricanes, bought the B&B. People told Mr. Kennedy a floral shop wouldn't work on Western Avenue, but that message never got through to Kerryville.

Yesterday, Mr. Menzer told him, "I hate to tell you this, but there's a flaming path following you."

The morning after he provided the flowers for a wedding reception at the Priory Hotel, about a mile away on Pressley Street, fire destroyed the three-story apartment building next to it. Twenty-one residents had to be evacuated.

All Mr. Kennedy can do is shrug and go back to work. He was fashioning a bow for an orchid delivery to Fox Chapel when I left him.

"Hurricanes, now fire," he said. "What's the next thing? Pestilence?"