Page 18 of Dream Lake

“I know, I know…” Uncomfortable as always with displays of affection, Justine waved her hand dismissively in the air. “We’ll need to find someone to start fixing up the house right away. Any contractor who does decent work is going to be booked up, and even the good ones are as slow as a wet weekend.” She paused. “Except… maybe… well, I don’t know…”

“You have someone in mind?”

“Sam Nolan’s brother Alex. He’s built some houses out at Roche—he does great work, and in the past he was known for being reliable. But he went through a divorce, and one of his real estate development deals fell through, and rumors are that he’s turned into a boozer. So I don’t know what the story is with him. I haven’t seen him in a while. I’ll get the lowdown from Sam.”

Zoë dropped her gaze to the cat in her lap and stroked his lavish fur. Byron wriggled and curled into a doughnut shape. “I… I met him, actually.” She took care to keep her voice casual. “When I went to Rainshadow Road to visit Lucy. He was doing some work on the house.”

“You didn’t mention it.” Justine’s brows lifted. “What did you think of him?”

Zoë shrugged uncomfortably. “We talked for all of ten seconds. I didn’t really have a chance to get an impression.”

A slow grin spread across Justine’s face. “You are the worst liar ever. Tell me.”

Zoë struggled to reply, her thoughts refusing to shape themselves into words. How could she explain her reaction to Alex Nolan? Striking, unsettling, his features austerely perfect, his eyes bright as if lit with the last spare voltage of his humanity. He looked thoroughly disillusioned, everything that had been tender and hopeful in him now crushed into diamond hardness. Thankfully he’d paid little attention to her, dismissing her as beneath his notice. That was just fine with Zoë.

From her early teens onward, men had always made certain assumptions about her, with the result that nice men stayed away and left the field open for the not-so-nice ones. She had always been approached by the kind of man who viewed hunting and seducing an attractive woman as a sport. If he got a woman into bed, he won the game. Zoë didn’t want to be a notch on some guy’s belt, and she didn’t want to be used.

She had thought that in marrying Chris, she had finally found someone who would value her for who she was. He was a caring and sensitive man who had always listened to her and treated her with respect and honesty. That had made it all the more devastating when Chris had told her a year after their wedding that he was in love with another man. The betrayal had been a cruel and ironic surprise, coming from someone who had always bolstered Zoë’s self-esteem. Since then, she had gone two years without any kind of romantic involvement. She didn’t trust her instincts where men were concerned. And a man like Alex Nolan was obviously beyond her ability to handle.

“I thought he was handsome,” Zoë finally managed to say, thinking of Alex. “But not very approachable.”

“I get the feeling he doesn’t like women.”

“You mean he’s—”

“No, I don’t mean it that way—he’s straight by all accounts. He has sex with women, but I don’t think helikesthem.” Justine paused and shrugged. “Of course, that doesn’t have anything to do with remodeling the cottage. So if I call Sam and he says Alex is still on his game, what do you think? Would you have any problem with him doing the work?”

“Not at all,” Zoë said, although her stomach did a little flip at the thought of seeing him again.

***

“No,” Alex said flatly, when Sam told him about Justine’s call. “I’m too busy.”

“I’m asking as a personal favor,” Sam said. “She’s Lucy’s friend. Besides, you need the work.”

The ghost lounged nearby as the two brothers applied a resin medallion to the ceiling of the second-floor landing. “He’s right,” the ghost told Alex, who sent him a scowl.

“I don’t give a shit,” Alex muttered. He was on a stepladder, pressing the adhesive-covered back of the medallion to the drywall above, while Sam stood below with a makeshift padded wooden support.

“Take it easy, Blowtorch,” Sam said mildly. “It wouldn’t hurt you to earn some money.”

Alex struggled to contain his exasperation. He was still getting used to the idea that just because he could see and hear the ghost didn’t mean anyone else could. “Tell her to get someone else to do it.”

“There is no one else. Every other contractor on the island is booked up for the summer, except you. And Justine was trying to ask me with her usual sledgehammer subtlety if you were even capable of handling the job.”

“Remodeling a lake cottage?” Alex was indignant. “Why couldn’t I handle that?”

“I don’t know, Al. Maybe it has something to do with the impression people have gotten lately… that if your life was graphed in a pie chart, half of it would be ‘shitfaced’ and the other half would be ‘hungover.’ Yeah, you can give me the evil eye, but it doesn’t change the fact that someday soon, you’re going to be too drunk to work and too broke to drink.”

“He’s right about that, too,” the ghost commented.

“Screw you,” Alex said to both of them. “I’ve never missed one damn day of work for any reason.”

Sam wedged the padded support beneath the medallion, while Alex checked the pencil marks on the ceiling to make certain the resin hadn’t moved.

“I believe that,” Sam said quietly. “But you’re going to have to go out there and prove it to everyone else, Al. From what I can tell, your 401(k) is now a 501(k).”

“What does that mean?”

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