Janice and Paul Hubert were the perfect couple to run a bed-and-breakfast. Mrs. Hubert’s eggs were never cold, and none of her cookies burned on the bottom. Mr. Hubert actually enjoyed unstopping toilets and could talk to the guests for hours without getting bored. Kevin fired them after a week and a half.

“Need some help?”

He pulled his head out of the refrigerator and saw Lilly standing just inside the kitchen door. It was eleven at night, two weeks and one day since Molly had left. It was also four days since he’d fired the Huberts, and everything had turned to crap.

Training camp started in a couple of weeks, and he wasn’t ready. He knew he should tell Lilly that he was glad she’d stayed to help out, but he hadn’t gotten around to it, and it made him feel guilty. There’d been something sad about her ever since Liam Jenner had stopped showing up for breakfast. Once he’d even tried to mention it, but he’d been clumsy, and she’d pretended not to understand.

“I’m looking for rapid-rise yeast. Amy left a note that she might need some. What the hell is rapid-rise yeast?”

“I have no idea,” she replied. “My baking is pretty much limited to box mixes.”

“Yeah. Screw it.” He shut the door.

“Missing the Huberts?”

“No. Only the way she cooked and the way he took care of everything.”

“Ah.” She gazed at him, amusement temporarily overriding her unhappiness.

“I didn’t like how she treated the kids,” he muttered. “And he was making Troy nuts. Who cares if the grass gets mowed clockwise or counterclockwise?”

“She didn’t exactly ignore the kids. She just didn’t pass out cookies to every scamp who showed up at the kitchen door like Molly did.”

“That old witch shooed them off like they were cockroaches. And forget about taking a few minutes to tell the kids a story. Is that too much to ask? If a kid wants to hear a story, don’t you think she could put down her damn Lysol bottle long enough to tell ’em a story?”

“I never heard any of the kids actually ask Mrs. Hubert to tell them a story.”

“They sure as hell asked Molly!”

“True.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

Kevin opened the lid on the cookie jar, but closed it again when he remembered the ones inside were store bought. He reached into the refrigerator for a beer instead. “Her husband was even worse.”

“When I heard him tell the kids not to play soccer on the Common because they were ruining the grass, I figured he might be doomed.”

“Slytherin.”

“The B&B guests did love the Huberts, though,” she pointed out.

“That’s because they don’t have kids here like the cottage people do.”