Dream Lake (Friday Harbor #3)(18)

“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?”

“Your net worth is now located in the pocket of your Levi’s.”

“I still have the Dream Lake development. I just need to find new backers.”

“Great. In the meantime, this little cottage of Zoë’s is right on Dream Lake Road. You’ve probably driven past it a hundred times. So you can take a couple of weeks to fix up her place, and—”

“Zoë?” Alex asked sharply, descending the stepladder. “I thought you said it was Justine’s cottage.”

“Justine was the one who called me about it. Zoë’s going to live there with her grandmother, who’s got some kind of Alzheimer’s. You remember Zoë, right? The sweet-faced blonde with the nice set of … muffins.” Sam grinned as he saw Alex’s face. “Help me out. She’s one of Lucy’s best friends. Do it so I can reap the benefits of Lucy’s gratitude.”

The ghost stared at Alex with offhand amusement. “Why not?” he asked. “Unless you’re scared.”

“Why would I be scared?” Alex asked irritably, before he thought better of it.

“Scared of what?” Sam asked, perplexed. “Of Zoë?”

“No,” Alex said in exasperation. “Forget it.”

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” Sam told Alex. “Go fix the house for the nice woman and her grandmother. Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll fix you dinner.”

“And if you don’t,” the ghost added, “we’ll know how much of a coward you really are.”

“I’ll do it,” Alex said through gritted teeth. It was clear that the ghost was going to badger him nonstop if he didn’t. And he felt the need to prove to the ghost—and maybe to himself—that Zoë Hoffman would pose no problem for him. “Give me her number. I’ll find out what she wants and work up a quote. If she doesn’t like it, she’s welcome to find someone else.”

“And you’ll give her a good deal, right?”

“I give everyone a good deal,” Alex said icily. “I don’t rip my customers off, Sam.”

“I know that,” came Sam’s quick response. “Wasn’t implying otherwise.”

“I’ll quote a fair price, I’ll do good work, and I’ll finish on time. Like I always do. And afterward, if you don’t quit bitching about my personal life, I’m going to take this support post and shove it up your—”

“Deal,” Sam said promptly.

Seven

“Why can’t you be the one to meet him at the cottage?” Zoë asked as she and Justine cleared the dining room of the breakfast dishes.

“It’s going to be your house,” Justine said reasonably, following her into the kitchen. “And you’re the one who knows best about what Emma’s going to need.”

“I still wish you would go with me.”

“I can’t. I’m meeting the loan officer at the bank. You’ll do fine. Just keep the budget in mind.”