Meeting someone who's been dead for twenty years is shocking enough for anyone with a belief in ghosts--worse for one with none! The narrow cove was quiet as the face of an expectant child, yet so near the ruffled Atlantic that the last push of wind carried the _Annie O._ its full length. The man in gray flannels and sweatshirt let the sail come crumpling down and hurried past its white folds at a gait made comically awkward by his cramped muscles. Slowly the rocky ledge came nearer. Slowly the blue V inscribed on the cove's surface by the sloop's prow died. Sloop and ledge kissed so gently that he hardly had to reach out his hand.…
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