Serena's Magic Read Online Free PDF

had to duck to enter the parlor—the room was part of the original house and built with a low ceiling.
    “You’ll have to forgive a few idiosyncrasies, Dr. O’Neill,” the woman offered with a cheerful smile. “We only let out three rooms, you know, and we don’t operate like a regular guesthouse. Breakfast is promptly at eight, lunch at noon, and dinner at six. And I’d appreciate it if you would let me know when you intend to miss meals—but on the other hand, if you have a special preference, you let me know, and I’ll get it on the table for you. I’m afraid your room has a bath but no shower, and you’ll find a few other inconveniences—”
    “Please!” Justin laughed. “I know all about the Golden Hawk—and that’s why I’m here.” He smiled. “If you’ll just let me know what to call you, ma’am—”
    “Oh! I’m Martha, Martha Heyer.”
    “Mrs. Heyer, I’ll be as happy as a lark here, I assure you.”
    “Martha,” Martha corrected, as awed by the man’s smile as by his tight, muscular build. He looked far more like a gladiator than a professor, of all things. She smiled to herself in return. She had assumed Dr. Justin O’Neill would be a stooped old man with bifocals and a cane.
    “Oh!” Martha muttered suddenly, handing him a cup of coffee from a pewter pot that sat over a small woodburning stove. “Dear me, Dr. O’Neill! I forgot with you coming in dripping wet and all! I’ve a message for you. From a lady says her name is Denise! She called hours ago—we did expect you earlier—and asked that I tell you she was flying into Boston—wants to meet you at the Sheraton. Dinner at ten o’clock. But if you can’t make it, no problem. She’ll drive out here—”
    “Oh, hell!” Justin muttered, forgetting Martha for a moment. Then he glanced at her to apologize. “Sorry, but could I have my room key?” He glanced at his watch. Nine twenty. Twenty minutes for a shower, no, bath, twenty minutes to make it back to Boston. But he had to make it. Damn, what was she doing following him out here? He had made it clear he wanted the summer alone to work.
    Denise would probably have some good reason for being in Boston.
    And he probably wouldn’t be feeling so antagonistic if it hadn’t been for his meeting with a witch at a pond.
    But even though he was ready to throttle that nameless witch, he was haunted by her. She had been uniquely special, and suddenly, he felt as if he could settle for nothing less. He had to find out first if that feeling was real; if she had been as warm and giving as memory now decreed and if the fever she had left in his blood truly existed.
    “Thank you.” He was leaving as Martha Heyer handed him his keys, explaining that one was to the front door, the other to his room. He grimaced at the woman. “I guess I’m going to have to hurry to make a ten o’clock appointment.”
    “Don’t drive too fast!” Martha warned. “No appointment is worth a life!”
    “No.” Justin smiled. “I won’t drive too fast.”
    “Your room is just left at the top of the stairs.” Martha smiled, feeling a little foolish that she instinctively liked the man so. “Feel free to raid the refrigerator or make use of the kitchen or the parlor when you return. I retire a bit early, but we like our guests to feel at home. Just be careful about wandering around—the house has a few tricks to it!”
    “So I’ve heard,” Justin returned, setting his coffee cup down and ducking as he passed Martha to head for the main stairway. “I’m anxious to hear all about it. Perhaps you’ll give me some history tomorrow.”
    “That’s right, you’re a writer, eh?”
    “Professor, not really a writer. Not as in the sense of the classics. I’m doing a book on the psychology of the witchcraft trials.”
    “Oh, I see,” Martha murmured, but she didn’t really see at all. She shook her head slightly. He didn’t look the type to be at all bookish. But Salem attracted all