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“He’s good. He’s living with one of the crew members here, another guy about his age. They’ve got a place together downtown. He’d probably love to see you, though. Friendly old faces. I don’t work him that hard, don’t worry. The station’s commissioning a new miniseries on haunted places—we’re doing haunted schools, hotels, and lighthouses to start. ”
“Lighthouses?”
“It happens more often than you’d think. If the ratings are good, I’m going to see about pitching ships and amusement parks next. People eat it up. But we’re going to be busy—rich and busy. Can always use a few new hands up here, especially hands like yours, if you finally take me up on my offer. When can I expect you?” she asked, and then, before I had time to answer, “How long can I expect you to stay?”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I breathed into the receiver for a few seconds while I thought about it. I was about to start crying again, but I kicked it back long enough to respond . . . held it down long enough to answer her, and to convince myself that I meant it.
“How long will you have me?”
