Free Charon's Crossing (A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel) by Sandra Marton

feel quite so proprietorial if he knew that his client was letting her imagination run away with her."
    Olive's brows lifted as the women settled themselves on the bench.
    "What do you mean?"
    "Oh, it's not worth going into, believe me. It's just... I don't know, exactly. I've had these ridiculous dreams lately about—about..."
    "About Charon's Crossin'?"
    Kathryn swung towards the other woman. Olive had put on a pair of big sunglasses she'd pulled from her shoulder bag. With them on, her face was unreadable.
    "Why would you say that?" Kathryn asked sharply.
    Olive shrugged. "Just a good guess. From what Amos says, I got the feelin' you've had Charon's Crossin' on your mind a bit. And now here you are, alone in this big, spooky house stuck away out in the middle of nowhere. I tell you, Kathryn, if it were me, I'd be havin' nightmares, not dreams!"
    Kathryn stared at her and then she began to laugh.
    "You'll never know how glad I am you came by this morning, Olive. You're like a breath of fresh air, whisking the cobwebs out of my very foggy brain!"
    Olive grinned. "Not as many cobwebs as I saw inside the house, I'll wager. My goodness, whoever did Amos hire to clean it? She must have been sleepin' on the job."
    "Amos." Kathryn made a face. "He may be a good lawyer but he certainly hasn't got any bedside manner."
    "Well, he's not known for his diplomacy, no."
    "That's putting it mildly. He and I didn't hit it off. But that's no excuse for the really cheap parting shot he got in when he left yesterday." Kathryn crossed her legs and wiggled her foot from side to side. "Not that I believe in such nonsense, of course, but I have to admit, it's not the kind of thing you want to hear before you spend the night in a house where the floors creak and the pipes gurgle and a draft that feels like it's blowing in straight from Alaska comes whistling down the stairs."
    "What did that impossible old man tell you?"
    "Oh, it was so silly I hate to even repeat it. He said Charon's Crossing was haunted."
    She waited for Olive to laugh or at least to smile. Instead, the realtor's head jerked up as if she were a puppet on a string. She put down her empty coffee mug and laid her hand over Kathryn's.
    "That foolish old man! Listen to me, Kathryn. Amos Carter will draw up all the legal papers you need, do 'em right, you can bet on that, give you good legal advice, too, if you ask. But anything else he tells you is claptrap. You understand?"
    "Well, sure. I didn't think—"
    "This house you've got here is old. It's going to need a lot of work. But that's all."
    "I know that."
    "You start talkin' about ghosts and spirits, you won't ever get a buyer."
    "Olive, really, I don't believe in such things."
    "Maybe not. But other folks do, especially in these parts. You hear me, girl?"
    Kathryn nodded. She knew it was true. Even some of the most sophisticated of the Caribbean islands were home to sects that believed in exotic combinations of Christianity and far older, darker religions.
    "I've no intention of going around saying anything about Charon's Crossing." Kathryn smiled. "Except that it's going to make some rich person very, very happy."
    It took a second or two before Olive smiled in return.
    "Good." She gave Kathryn's hand one last squeeze and then she let go and rose to her feet. "Suppose we go inside now, walk through the place together, and I'll tell you what I think needs doin'."
    Kathryn sighed as she collected the mugs. "What doesn't need doing, you mean."
    The house was cool, almost cold compared to the outside heat. "One of the nice things about these old houses," Olive said pleasantly. "They're comfortable even without air conditionin'."
    "And a good thing," Kathryn said as she dumped the mugs into the sink. "I'll just bet the electrical system's too old to handle AC."
    Olive smiled. "You're probably right. Most everythin's outdated here, I'm afraid."
    "Which brings us to the bad news, I guess." Kathryn leaned back against the sink. "What do