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

I have to spend to put the place into saleable condition?"
    "Well, startin' right here, in the kitchen, you'll have to have the hot water system checked." Olive walked to the sink and turned on the tap. "Cold," she said, lifting her brows as she dangled her fingers beneath the flow. "Cold as can be, finally workin' up to lukewarm."
    "Yeah." Kathryn sighed and folded her arms. "So I noticed. But it's no worse than what I live with, back in my New York apartment."
    "Maybe. But lots of these old houses have problems with their heatin' systems. I'm not talkin' about the comfort of a warm bath, you see, I'm talkin' safety. Be sure and ask Hiram to check, okay?"
    Kathryn blew out her breath. "I will."
    "There's more, I'm afraid."
    "I figured that. To tell you the truth, I had no idea the house would be quite this bad. I mean, Amos tried to warn me, but I never dreamed so much would need doing."
    "Didn't your father tell you anythin' about Charon's Crossin'?" Olive asked curiously as they walked through the kitchen and into the hallway.
    Kathryn tucked her hands into the rear pockets of her shorts.
    "My parents were divorced years ago. I didn't have much contact with him after that."
    "Ah." The realtor's eyes darkened with sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear it."
    "No need to be. It's just a fact of life."
    "A sad one, though."
    "The house is what's sad. What else needs doing, do you think?" Kathryn reached out a hand and ran it lightly over a wall where what looked like blue silk hung in shreds. "I can't afford to have these walls redone. Considering the size of this place, I don't even know if I can afford to have than painted."
    "No need. You want to present a buyer with a structurally sound house. Aesthetics are not the issue."
    "I'm delighted to hear it."
    Olive smiled. "Same goes for things like redoin' floors and windows and such." She paused and frowned at the foyer walls. "Of course, it doesn't make such a good first impression, seein' that moldin' lookin' as if the termites have been at it."
    "Yes," Kathryn said, sighing as she kicked a piece of molding aside. "I figured that."
    "Well, check with Hiram. Ask him what he can do that will make things look better without it costin' you an arm and a leg."
    "Right."
    "You should probably also ask him to see to any leaks in the roof. And to check the plumbin' and electrical systems."
    "I will. The first time the pipes began rumbling, I almost jumped out of my skin. And the lights have a really wonderful way of flickering on and off. The ones that work at all, that is."
    "Anythin' else you've noticed that I've overlooked?"
    Kathryn shook her head. "I don't think so. If you'll put me in touch with somebody who'll pitch in and help me scrub things down, it will help. I'd like to get rid of most of the grime and the yuck. And the spiders." She shuddered. "New York roaches are one thing, but spiders that build trampolines instead of webs are another."
    Olive chuckled. "Fine. Well, is that it, then?"
    They had wandered to the foot of the great staircase. Kathryn paused and looked up, to where the sunlit dust motes disappeared in the darkness of the second floor.
    "Just about, except for that miserable draft. Feel it?"
    Olive's gaze followed Kathryn's. "No. No, I can't say that I do."
    "Really?" Kathryn gave a dramatic shudder and wrapped her arms around herself. "Boy, I certainly do."
    "Maybe there's a broken window somewhere."
    "I told that to our friend Amos. He assured me there wasn't. And I checked, after he left. He was right. The windows are fine."
    Olive's head tilted further back. "Maybe the draft's comin' from the attic."
    "The attic? You might be right. I never thought of looking there."
    "Well, don't." Kathryn's brows shot up at the other woman's emphatic statement and Olive laughed. "Attics are always full of mice. And in this house, the trampoline-buildin' spiders are probably havin' themselves a fine time up in the attic, as well. Let Hiram do the lookin' for you, when he comes.