Dream Lake (Friday Harbor #3)(81)

Taking out his phone, Alex began to dial Gavin and Isaac. He would pull them off work on Zoë’s garage just for the afternoon, and have them come over here. “I’m going to call some of my guys to help me put the window in,” he said. “Today, if possible.”

“I don’t know,” Sam said glumly.

“About what?”

“I don’t know if I want to install it.”

Feeling a new wave of despair coming from the ghost, Alex said in exasperation, “Don’t give me that crap. This window has to go into this house. The place needs it. There was one just like it a long time ago.”

Sam looked puzzled. “How do you know that?”

“I just meant that it seems right for the place.” Alex walked away, dialing his phone. “I’ll take care of it.”

Right after lunch, Gavin and Isaac met Alex at the vineyard house, and they installed the stained-glass window. The project went fast, owing to the precision of Lucy’s measurements. She had constructed the window so that it fit perfectly into the existing framework. They sealed the edges with clear silicone caulk, and taped it into place, using cardboard spacers folded into accordion shapes to protect the glass from the tape. After a twenty-four-hour drying period, they would add wood trim around the edges.

The ghost watched them intently. There were no wisecracks, questions, or comments, only silent, sullen gloom. He refused to explain anything about the window or the memories it had jarred loose.

“Don’t you think I’m entitled to some answers?” Alex demanded later that evening. “You could at least give me a clue about what’s going on with that damn window. Why did you want me to install it? What’s put you in such a foul mood?”

“I’m not ready to talk about it,” came the infuriating reply.

The next morning Alex stopped by Rainshadow Road to check on the silicone caulking before he headed to Zoë’s cottage. He took his BMW, figuring he might as well enjoy it another couple of days before he sold it back to the dealership. Back when he’d bought the sedan, he and Darcy had wanted a high-end vehicle to take on their weekend trips to Seattle. It had suited their lifestyle, or at least the lifestyle they’d aspired to. Now he couldn’t figure out why it had seemed so important.

Along the drive he passed Sam, who had been out walking in the vineyard. Slowing the car, Alex rolled down the window and asked, “Want a lift?”

Sam shook his head and motioned him to go on. His expression was dazed and distracted, as if he were listening to music no one else could hear. Except there were no headphones in sight.

“He looks weird,” Alex said to the ghost, continuing to drive to the house.

“Everything looks weird,” the ghost replied, staring out the window.

He was right. A strange radiance had permeated the scene. All the colors of the vineyard and garden were softer, more vivid, every blossom and leaf feeding brightness into the air. Even the sky was different, silver where it touched the water of False Bay, gradually deepening to a blue that almost hurt his eyes.

Getting out of the car, Alex took a deep breath of the floral earthy freshness that laced the breeze. The ghost was staring at the second-floor window. It didn’t look the same. The color of the glass had changed—but that had to be a trick of the light, or the angle they were viewing it from.

Alex bounded into the house and up the stairs to the landing. Something had definitely happened to the window—the winter tree was now covered with luxuriant greenery, leaves made of glass gems crossing the window in sparkling profusion. The moon was gone, and the glass sky was flushed with pink, orange, lavender, all blending into daylight blue.

“The window’s been replaced,” Alex said in bewilderment. “What happened to the other one?”

“It’s the same window,” came the ghost’s reply.

“It can’t be. All the colors are different. The moon is gone. There are leaves on the branches.”

“This is how it looked when I installed it all those years ago. Down to the last detail. But one day—” The ghost broke off as they heard Sam entering the house.

Climbing the stairs, Sam came to stand beside Alex. He stared at the window, rapt and preoccupied.

“What did you do to it?” Alex asked his brother.

“Nothing.”

“How did—”

“I don’t know.”

Flummoxed, Alex looked from Sam to the ghost, who were both occupied with their own thoughts. They seemed to have a better idea of what was going on than he did. “What does it mean?” he asked.

Without a word Sam left, taking the stairs two at a time, heading out to his truck with long ground-eating strides. The truck engine roared as the vehicle sped along the drive.

Annoyance edged Alex’s confusion. “Why is he hauling ass like that?”

“He’s going after Lucy,” the ghost said with calm certainty.

“To find out what happened to the window?”

The ghost gave him a sardonic glance and began to pace around the landing. “Sam doesn’t care about what happened to the window, the important thing is why it happened.” At Alex’s uncomprehending silence, he said, “The window changed because of Sam and Lucy. Because of how they feel about each other.”

That made no sense. “You’re saying this is some kind of magic mood window?” Alex asked with a snort of disbelief.