"I don't frickin' believe this!" Kevin vaulted out of the car. "This place was a wreck the last time I saw it."

"It sure isn't a wreck now. It's beautiful."

She winced as he slammed the door, then got out herself. Roo broke free and headed for the shrubs. Kevin gazed up at the house, his hands planted on his hips.

"When the hell did she turn this into a bed-and-breakfast?"

Just then the front door opened, and a woman who appeared to be in her late sixties emerged. She had faded blond-and-gray hair caught up in a clip with strands escaping here and there. She was tall and big-boned, and her mouth was wide, topped by prominent cheekbones and bright blue eyes. A flour-dusted blue apron protected her khaki slacks and short-sleeved white blouse.

"Kevin!" She hurried down the steps and gave him a vigorous hug. "You sweet boy! I knew you'd come!"

To Molly, Kevin's hug in return seemed perfunctory.

The woman gave her an assessing look. "I'm Charlotte Long. My husband and I came here every summer. He died eight years ago, but I still stay in Loaves and Fishes. Kevin was always losing balls in my rosebushes."

"Mrs. Long was a good friend of my parents and my aunt," Kevin said.

"My, I miss Judith. We met when my family first came here." Her sharp blue eyes returned to Molly. "And who's this?"

Molly extended her hand. "Molly Somerville."

"Well, now…" Her lips pursed as she turned back to Kevin. "You can't read a magazine without hearing about that marriage of yours. Isn't it a little early to be seeing someone else? I'm sure Pastor Tucker would be disappointed that you aren't trying harder to make things work with your wife."

"Uh, Molly is my…" The word seemed to stick in his throat. Molly sympathized, but she wasn't going to be the one to say it.

"Molly's my… wife." He finally managed to get it out.

Once again Molly found herself under the scrutiny of those blue eyes. "Well, that's good, then. But why are you calling yourself Somerville? Tucker's a good, proud name. Pastor Tucker, Kevin's father, was one of the finest men I ever knew."

"I'm sure he was." She'd never liked disappointing people. "Somerville's also my professional name. I write children's books."

Her disapproval vanished. "I've always wanted to write a children's book. Well, now, isn't this nice? You know, when Kevin's mother was alive, she was afraid he'd marry one of those supermodels who go around smoking dope and having sexual relations with everybody."

Kevin choked.

"Here now, pup, you get out of Judith's lobelia." Charlotte patted her thigh, and Roo abandoned the flowers to trot over. Charlotte reached down to chuck his chin. "Better keep an eye on him. We've got some coyotes around here."

Kevin's expression turned calculating. "Big ones?"

Molly gave him a reproachful gaze. "Roo sticks close to home."

"Too bad."

"Well, I'm off! There's a list of guests and dates on Judith's computer. The Pearsons should be here any time. They're bird-watchers."

Kevin turned pale beneath his tan. "Guests? What do you-"

"I had Amy freshen up Judith's old room for you, the one your parents used. The other bedrooms are rented."

"Amy? Wait a-"

"Amy and Troy Anderson, he's the handyman. They just got married, even though she's only nineteen and he's twenty. I don't know why they were in such a hurry." Charlotte reached back to untie the apron. "Amy's supposed to take care of the cleaning, but they're so gaga over each other that they're worthless. You'll have to keep after them." She handed the apron to Molly. "It's a good thing you're here, Molly. I never was much of a cook, and the guests are complaining."

Molly stared down at the apron. Kevin shot forward as the older woman began to walk away. "Wait a minute! The campground's closed. All the reservations were canceled."

She regarded him with disapproval. "How could you even think to do that, Kevin? Some of these people have been coming here for forty years. And Judith spent every penny she had sprucing up the cottages and turning the house into a bed-and-breakfast. Do you have any idea how much it costs to advertise in Victoria magazine? And that Collins boy in town charged her almost a thousand dollars to set up a Web site."

"A Web site?"

"If you're not familiar with the Internet, I suggest you look into it. It's a wonderful thing. Except for all that porno."

"I'm familiar with the Internet!" Kevin exclaimed. "Now, tell me why people are still coming here after I closed the place down."

"Why, because I told them to. Judith would have wanted it. I kept trying to explain that to you. Do you know that it took me nearly a week to get hold of everyone?"

"You called them?"

"I used that E-mail, too," she said proudly. "It didn't take me long to get the hang of it." She patted his arm. "Don't be nervous, Kevin. You and your wife will do just fine. As long as you put out a nice, big breakfast, most people are happy. The menus and recipes are in Judith's blue notebook in the kitchen. Oh, and get Troy to look at the toilet in Green Pastures. It's leaking."

She headed off down the lane.

Kevin looked sick. "Tell me this is a bad dream."

As Mrs. Long disappeared, Molly watched a late-model Honda Accord turn into the lane and head toward the B &B. "As a matter of fact, I think you're wide awake."

Kevin followed the direction of her gaze and swore as the car stopped in front of the B &B. Molly was too tired to stand any longer, so she sank down on the top step to watch the entertainment. Roo yipped a greeting at the couple who came up the sidewalk.

"We're the Pearsons," a thin, round-faced, sixtyish woman said. "I'm Betty and this is my husband, John."

Kevin looked as if he'd taken a direct hit to the head, so Molly replied for him. "Molly Somerville. This is Kevin, the new owner."

"Oh, yes. We heard about you. You play baseball, don't you?"

Kevin sagged against the gas lamppost.

"Basketball," Molly said. "But he's really too short for the NBA, so they're cutting him."

"My husband and I aren't much for sports. We were sorry to hear about Judith. Lovely woman. Very knowledgeable about the local bird population. We're on the trail of Kirtland's warbler."

John Pearson outweighed his wife by nearly two hundred pounds, and his double chins wiggled. "We hope you're not planning on making too many changes in the food. Judith's breakfast spread is famous. And her cherry chocolate cake…" He paused, and Molly half expected him to kiss his fingertips. "Is afternoon tea still at five o'clock?"

Molly waited for Kevin to respond, but he seemed to have lost the power of speech. She cocked her head at them. "I have a feeling tea might be a little late today."

Chapter 9

Daphne lived in the prettiest cottage in Nightingale Woods. It sat off by itself in a great grove of trees, which meant she could play her electric guitar whenever she wanted and no one complained. Daphne Gets Lost

Kevin had his cell phone pressed to one ear, the B &B's phone pressed to the other as he paced the entrance hall barking orders to his business manager and somebody who was either a secretary or a housekeeper. Behind him an imposing walnut staircase rose half a flight, then turned at a right angle. The spindles were dusty, and the richly patterned carpet on the treads needed vacuuming. An urn filled with drooping peacock feathers topped a pilaster on the landing.

His pacing was wearing her out, so Molly decided to explore while he talked. With Roo trotting after her, she moved slowly into the front parlor. The pincushion settee and pleasing jumble of chairs were upholstered in pretty buttercup and rose fabrics. Botanical prints and pastoral scenes hung in gilded frames on the cream-colored walls, while lace curtains framed the windows. Brass candlesticks, a Chinese jardiniere, and some crystal boxes ornamented the mantel above the fireplace. Unfortunately, the brass was tarnished, the crystal dull, and the tabletops dusty. A lint-flecked Oriental carpet contributed to the overall air of neglect.

The same was true of the music room, where the traditional pineapple-patterned wallpaper served as a background for rose-patterned reading chairs and a spinet piano. A writing desk in the corner held ivory stationery, along with an old-fashioned fountain pen and a bottle of ink. A pair of tarnished silver candlesticks sat on top, near an old toby jug.

A Queen Anne table and ten matching high-backed chairs graced the dining room across the hallway. The room's dominant feature was a square, cutaway bay window that provided a generous view of lake and woods. Molly suspected that the tall crystal vases on the sideboard had held fresh flowers when his Aunt Judith was alive, but now the marble top was cluttered with the remains of breakfast serving dishes.

She walked through a door at the back into an old-fashioned country kitchen warmed by blue-and-white tiles as well as wooden cabinets topped with a collection of chintzwear china pitchers. In the center a sturdy farm table with a marble slab served as a workspace, but now dirty mixing bowls, eggshells, measuring cups, and an open jar of dried cranberries littered the surface. The very modern restaurant-size stove needed cleaning, and the dishwasher door hung open.

A round oak table for informal dining sat in front of the windows. Printed pillows covered the seats of the farmhouse chairs, and a punched-tin chandelier hung above. Behind the house the yard sloped down to the lake, with woods on each side.

She peeked into a large, well-stocked pantry that smelled of baking spices, then entered a small connecting room, where the very modern computer resting on an old tavern table signaled that this was the office. She was tired of walking, so she sat down and booted it up. Twenty minutes later she heard Kevin.

"Molly! Where the hell are you?"

Slytherin rudeness didn't deserve a response, so she ignored him and opened another file.

For a normally graceful man, he had an unusually heavy step that morning, and she heard his approach long before he located her. "Why didn't you answer me?"

She repositioned the mouse as he came up behind her, deciding it was time to face up to him. "I don't answer roars."

"I wasn't roaring! I was-"

When he didn't finish, she looked up to see what had distracted him. Outside the window a very young woman in skimpy black shorts and a tight, scoop-neck top flew across the garden, followed by an equally young man. She turned and ran backward, laughing and taunting him. He called out something to her. She grabbed the hem of her top and tugged it up, flashing her bare breasts.

"Whoa…" Kevin said.

Molly felt her skin grow hot.

The man caught her around the waist and dragged her into the woods so that they weren't visible from the road, although Kevin and Molly could see them clearly. He leaned against the trunk of an old maple. She immediately jumped on him and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Molly felt the slow pulse of dormant blood stirring as she watched the young lovers begin to devour each other. He cupped her bottom. She pressed her breasts to his chest, then, resting her elbows on his shoulders, caught his head to steady it, as if she weren't already kissing him deeply enough.

Molly heard Kevin move behind her, and her body gave a sluggish throb. She could feel his height looming over her, his warmth penetrating her thin top. How could someone who made his living with sweat smell so clean?

The young man turned his lover so that her back was against the tree. He pushed a hand under her T-shirt and covered her breast.

Molly's own breasts tingled. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't manage it. Apparently Kevin couldn't either, because he didn't move, and his voice sounded vaguely husky.

"I think we've just caught our first glimpse of Amy and Troy Anderson."

The young woman dropped to the ground. She was petite but leggy, with dishwater-blond hair pulled up in a purple scrunchy. His hair was darker and cut close to his head. He was thin and quite a bit taller than the girl.

Her hands slipped between their bodies. It took Molly only a moment to realize what she was doing.

Unzipping his jeans.

"They're going to do it right in front of us," Kevin said softly.

His comment jerked Molly out of her trance. She bolted up from the computer and turned her back to the window. "Not in front of me."

His eyes drifted from the window to her, and for a moment he didn't say anything. He just gazed at her. Again that sluggish pulsing in her bloodstream. It reminded her that even though they'd been intimate, she didn't know him.