Charon's Crossing

"There isn't?" she said stiffly.

"No, of course not. This place may be a wreck—"

"I wish you wouldn't keep saying that, Jason. I know it's a wreck but it's my wreck..." She frowned. "Never mind. What were you going to say?"

"Only that now that I've seen Charon's Crossing, I think you may not have as difficult a time selling it as we'd thought. The house needs work, yes, but it has great appeal. Just look at its location." He walked to the window and gestured out at the endless gardens stretching out behind the terrace. "All that land in the back, the sea practically at the front door... and every room is filled with antiques."

"So, what are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that you might want to get yourself a different realtor, darling, someone from the mainland with a wealthy, sophisticated clientele who can provide you with a buyer who'll be more than happy to pay for the special cachet of a haunted mansion on a tropical island." He smiled at her. "How's that sound?"

It sounded as if she might as well have saved her breath, Kathryn thought wearily. There was nothing wrong with Jason's suggestion on how she might sell the house. It was, in fact, damned clever.

But she hadn't wanted real estate ideas just now, she'd wanted Jason to listen to her. Really listen, instead of proving Matthew right.

"It sounds brilliant," she said, and shot a dramatic look at her watch. "Oh, just look at the time! When did you say your plane was leaving?"

Jason's smile wavered. "At eleven. But I thought... I mean, I'd hoped..."

She knew what he'd thought, that she'd changed her mind and would ask him to stay on for the rest of the weekend. It was what she'd thought, too, only a little while ago.

But it wasn't going to happen.

"I know," she said with a big smile, "you hoped we'd be able to have breakfast. But the time just got away from us, didn't it?"

She didn't give him a chance to answer; she snatched up the keys to the VW and her sunglasses and headed for the foyer. Matthew winked as she rushed past him but Kathryn never paused.

"You'd better not be around when I get back," she hissed.

"What did you say, darling?" Jason asked as he retrieved his overnight bag from where he'd left it in the foyer.

"Nothing," Kathryn said through her teeth. "Absolutely nothing."

* * *

They drove to the airport in her rented VW.

Jason kept up a line of pleasant, meaningless chatter. Kathryn didn't have to do anything except nod from time to time or say an occasional, "Really," which was a good thing because she couldn't get herself to concentrate on anything but what a total fiasco Matthew was making out of her life.

Jason was really a nice man. He was of her world and of her time, and he had never treated her with anything but kindness and affection. She knew what a stickler he was for routine, that he always planned his schedule well in advance so that there was no chance anything would remain undone, yet he'd flown down here on the spur of the moment, just to be with her.

And how had she thanked him?

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

By behaving like a jerk, that was how. By slugging him when he'd tried to show her some affection. By dismissing his perfectly logical ideas about how to sell Charon's Crossing. As for his reaction to what she'd said about ghosts...

Be honest, Kathryn, if somebody told you they'd been talking to a ghost, what would you do?

She'd do exactly what Jason had done, of course, take it all as a joke or else wonder if the person were going around the bend...

Unless someone as helpful as Matthew were standing by, all too ready to try and confuse you more than you already were.

She glanced at Jason, who was in the middle of a complicated joke about a pair of computers, a cable, and | malfunctioning fax modem.

Why was she taking him to the airport?

Why was she letting him leave?