Everything was still neatly packed as she had originally left them. Her high school and college diplomas. Childhood drawings and holiday cards and family snapshots, many of them faded. Some were torn and bent. One was of her father standing by another man at a barbeque. He wore a plaid, short-sleeved shirt and held a martini glass.

Molly couldn’t remember who the other man was. In the photo, both men were laughing. She touched it gently. This would be enough.

After she put the bins in the back of her Jeep, she got to work. When the doorbell sounded a few minutes after six, she had cleared out the rotting food, thrown away everything in the fridge, and the dishwasher was running with a full load while the worst of the crusted dishes soaked in the sink. She had left the back door wide open to air out the smell, and a cool breeze swept through the house.

Wiping off her hands, she went to answer the door.

Tanya Martin was a young, attractive woman, perhaps thirty years old, with improbably red hair, immaculate makeup, and a wide smile. They talked for forty-five minutes and went over the comps Tanya had pulled for house prices in the neighborhood.

Then Molly signed the contract and Tanya took her leave. As Molly closed the front door, she smiled with relief. The house was well maintained, stylishly decorated, and located in a “blue chip” neighborhood that never went out of demand. After the first weekend of showings, they would probably see several offers. Maybe even a bidding war.

If Molly stuck to her intention of only accepting a cash offer, she could be rid of the property within a few weeks. This was going to go quickly.

Alone once more, she turned her attention back to cleaning. By the time she was nearly finished, darkness had fallen.

The last thing to do was change the bed. Quickly, she tore off the bedding and made the bed with a coverlet in a classic faded paisley pattern.

After patting the pillows into place, she turned to confront the pile of dirty bedding she had dumped in the hall. The last thing she wanted was to stick around and do laundry.

Too bad she didn’t know any housework spells. (Yet?)

“Screw it,” she muttered. “I’m done cleaning up after that bastard.”

Gathering the pile into her arms, she carried it downstairs and out the back door to the garbage bins. Letting it fall to the ground, she threw open the trash bin and went down on one knee to gather it up again.

As she did, a pair of familiar shoes and long, jeans-clad legs came into view.

Austin.

She leaped to her feet.

She wasn’t fast enough.

Something hard came down on the back of her head. Pain exploded, and the world disappeared in a gray haze.