Dream Lake Read Free Page A

way you handle a compound miter saw,” Mark said, “I’d say that’s entirely likely.”
    A few days later, Alex came to the house at Rainshadow Road for an unexpected visit. Since the ghost had last seen him, Alex had lost weight he hadn’t needed to lose. His cheekbones were as prominent as guard rails, the ice-colored eyes under-mounted by deep shadows.
    “Darcy wants to separate,” Alex said without preamble, as Sam welcomed him inside.
    Sam shot him a glance of concern. “Why?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “She wouldn’t tell you?”
    “I didn’t ask.”
    Sam’s eyes widened. “Jesus, Al. Don’t you want to know why your wife’s leaving you?”
    “Not particularly.”
    Sam’s tone turned gently arid. “Do you think that might be part of the problem? Like maybe she needs a husband who’s interested in her feelings?”
    “One of the reasons I liked Darcy in the first place is that she and I never had to have those conversations.” Alex wandered into the parlor, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He surveyed the door casing that Sam had been hammering into place. “You’re going to split the wood. You need to predrill the holes.”
    Sam surveyed him for a moment. “Want to lend a hand?”
    “Sure.” Alex went to the worktable in the center of the room and picked up a cordless power drill. He checked the settings and the tightness of the chuck, and pressed the trigger experimentally. A metallic squeal tore through the air.
    “Bearings are dried up,” Sam said apologetically. “I’ve been meaning to repack them with grease, but I haven’t had time.”
    “It’s better to replace them completely. I’ll take care of it later. Meantime, I’ve got a good drill in the car. Four-pole motor, four hundred fifty pounds of torque.”
    “Sweet.”
    In the way of men, they dealt with the issue of Alex’s broken marriage by not talking about it at all, instead working together in companionable silence. Alex installed the door casings with precision and care, measuring and marking, hand-chiseling a thin edge of the plastered wall to ensure that the vertical casing was perfectly plumb.
    The ghost loved good carpentry, the way it made sense of everything. Edges were neatly joined and finished, imperfections were sanded and painted, everything was level. He watched Alex’s work approvingly. Although Sam had acquitted himself well as an amateur, there had been plenty of mistakes and do-overs. Alex knew what he was doing, and it showed.
    “Hot damn,” Sam said in admiration as he saw how Alex had hand-cut plinth blocks to use as decorative bases for the casing. “Well, you’re going to have to do the other door in here. Because there’s no way in hell I could make it look like that.”
    “No problem.”
    Sam went outside to confer with his vineyard crew, who were busy pruning and shaping the young vines in preparation for the coming flush of growth in April. Alex continued to work in the parlor. The ghost wandered around the room, singing during the lulls between hammering and sawing.
    As Alex filled nail holes with wood putty and caulked around the casing edges, he began a soft, nearly inaudible humming. Gradually a melody emerged, and the realization hit like a thunderbolt: Alex was humming along to his song.
    On some level, Alex could sense his presence.
    Watching him intently, the ghost continued to sing.
    Alex set aside the caulk gun, remaining in a kneeling position. He braced his hands on his thighs, humming absently.
    The ghost broke off the song and drew closer. “Alex,” he said cautiously. When there was no response, he said in a burst of impatient hope and eagerness, “Alex, I’m here .”
    Alex blinked like a man who’d just come from a dark room into blinding daylight. He looked directly at the ghost, his eyes dilating into black circles rimmed with ice.
    “You can see me?” the ghost asked in astonishment.
    Scrambling backward, Alex landed on his rump. In the same momentum, he