He did the dishes and cleaned the entire kitchen before putting on a pot of coffee and searching through the bags from the market for the last of the bread from the night before. Maybe he’d make French toast, he mused, and opened his phone to search for a recipe, when he heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway outside. He frowned and looked at the microwave clock. It was only 8:30 in the morning. Maybe Remus’s auntie was getting home early from California, he thought, and peaked out the window, pushing aside the curtain to look.