"Might be you could sign a paper, let Amos make those decisions for you."
"Might be—if he were on the island." Kathryn's nostrils flared. "But he isn't."
"Oh yes. Now that you mention it, seems to me I heard somethin' about that this mornin', at the market." The old man pushed back his chair and put his hands on his knees. "Well, I don't know what to suggest, Kathryn, except to tell you I wouldn't take the responsibility for makin' those decisions for you, even if you asked."
Kathryn stood up. "Wonderful," she said bitterly. "I don't seem to have much choice, do I? I'm going to have to waste another week!"
Hiram rose, too. "I am sorry. But I promise, I'll get to you as quickly as I can." He followed after her to the door. Just as she was about to open it, he put his hand lightly on her shoulder. "Kathryn? I never did ask. How are you doin' out at that house, all by yourself?"
Her eyes narrowed as she turned and faced him. "What do you mean?"
"Just what I said. The house is so big, and you're not used to it."
"To what? The rattles? The moans? The cries in the night?" Kathryn glared at him. "Isn't that what you're really asking, Hiram? How am I doing, all alone in a haunted house?"
He swallowed dryly. "Kathryn, I never meant—"
"Yes, you did. You and everybody else who wants to know how I'm doing. Well, I'll tell you how. There are ice cold drafts that come from nowhere, there's some guy popping in and out of my head, chains rattle, things go thump in the middle of the night and if skeletons start coming out of the walls I'll probably just stand there and say, 'Hi, how're you doing?' " Kathryn jabbed her index finger into her own chest. "I am angry as hell, Hiram! It turns out that the only person on this whole island who didn't know that Casper the Not-So-Friendly Ghost was living at Charon's Crossing was me!"
"Kathryn, please..."
"Is there a phone in this town?"
"A what?"
"A phone. One that works. Is there any such thing on all the island?"
"There is one on the next corner, near the Post Office. Kathryn, if you would just listen..."
"Good-bye, Mr. Bonnyeman. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know exactly what day you'll be coming by. If my phone doesn't work, try sending a message by spook express!"
Eyes flashing, Kathryn stormed from the repair shop and headed for the Post Office. There was a phone, all right. Just one. Fortunately, it worked.
Jason answered on the first ring.
"It's me," she snapped. "Kathryn."
"Kathryn! Are you okay? I've been going crazy, waiting to hear from you. Your phone doesn't work, do you know that? I called information, got your number, but—"
"I know. Believe me, I know. Nothing works in this place."
"But you're okay? You sure? You don't sound it."
Kathryn sighed and sagged against the wall of the telephone booth.
"I am, really. It's just that... look, I can't go into details now. I just called to let you know I'm fine. And that I won't be home Friday after all. I'm going to have to hang in another week."
"Hell!"
"Yeah, I know."
"Why? What's the problem?"
"The guy who's going to give me a rundown on what needs to be done to the house can't get over to see me until next week."
"Well, get somebody else."
Kathryn shut her eyes wearily. "You don't understand. There isn't anybody else."