And for the first time, since Laura was a wee lass playing with pink and white pinafores whilst sliding down the lemon Pledge polished oaken stairway banister—which was when she had first heard tales of the old, one-legged sea dog, Evan Castle, who allegedly haunted grandmother’s Victorian home over some tragic, long-forgotten love affair—she believed as her small heart raced—thump, thump, thump—in her underdeveloped chest (due to that long ago triple case of typhoid, polio, and pneumonia).