Ghost Lights Read Online Free

out for her.
    “Dad, please. I mean I know your little girl is coming out of her shell finally, every day is a blessing, rise and shine and like that, hell, I’m full-barrel on the positive attitude. But I didn’t get a lobotomy. I don’t roll around to the neighbors smiling and doing the meet and greet.”
    “A lobotomy wouldn’t have that effect,” he said, and went up the ramp and inside.
    “So the three-legged dog thing, it’s like a classic empty-nest syndrome, child-surrogate deal. Am I right?”
    She went ahead of him through the kitchen, where an electric teakettle was whining. She switched it off and poured.
    “You want a cup of tea? I’m having peppermint.”
    “Thanks. I’ll just get a glass of water I think,” he said, and moved around her.
    “I knew this couple that when their basketball-playing kid went away to college—and this guy was like seven feet tall— they went out and got a dog two days later. Thing was though, the dog was a hundred-and-sixty-pound English mastiff. Came up to their chest level. True story. Remember Cal Shepard? From Samo?”
    “The kid that drooled,” he said, nodding.
    “Cal Shepard did not drool. He was a popular jock. That was Jon Spisiak.”
    “A kid that drools in high school,” he mused, shaking his head. He stood at the open refrigerator looking in. It was almost empty. “You don’t have bottled water?”
    “And I wouldn’t even say Jon drooled per se,” she said, and gestured at a white watercooler in the corner. “It was more like he had extra saliva. Oh. So Sal’s coming over, by the way.”
    “The new boyfriend from group? This is great. I can submit him to the rigorous screening process.”
    “He’ll fail. I have to warn you.”
    “Of course. They always do.”
    “But more than usual. Trust me.”
    “What. Is he a protester? A militia member?”
    “He used to be a cop. Now he wears fatigues and sometimes a balaclava.”
    “Guy wears a balaclava in L.A.?”
    “He took me up to Tahoe once. He wore it then. A black one. He looked like a paraplegic ninja.”
    He was following her into the living room, where a leather couch and chairs surrounded a low glass table.
    “What, he wants to keep his face hidden?”
    “I dunno, Dad. Ask him yourself.”
    “I can’t ask him about the balaclava if he’s not wearing it.”
    “OK. I’m like officially tired of this subject.”
    “Touchy!”
    She spun her chair slowly and stopped, picked her mug out of the cup holder. He sat down opposite.
    “I’m sorry,” she said.
    “Anyway. I look forward to meeting him.”
    “So T. still hasn’t been heard from.”
    “No. And I think it’s time your mother moved on.”
    Casey blew across the surface of her tea.
    “I realize she’s loyal,” he went on. “But who knows what’s happening with him. You know? It could be anything. Maybe he had legal trouble she never knew about and a secret account in the Caymans. Right? Change will be good for her. Something new.”
    Casey nodded and sipped.
    “It’ll be hard,” he went on, and drank his water, “for her to know how long to wait before she makes key decisions, lets people go. There’s that young guy that works there, that she hired a while back. And then the financial situation. I say find a good lawyer and pass the buck.”
    “She filed a missing persons report,” said Casey softly. “And she’s been calling the embassy every day.”
    “The U.S. embassy? In Belize?”
    He heard the front doorbell ring.
    “That’ll be him. The father of your grandchild.”
    “What?”
    “Kidding.”
    “I’ll get it,” he said, and rose.
    As usual she was right; as soon as he pushed the button to open the door he knew the guy was a loser. Tamped-down anger, free-floating rage.
    “Hey, welcome,” he said affably, and stood back.
    “Who are you ?” asked the guy.
    “My father,” called Casey from within. “Hal, meet Sal.”
    “We rhyming,” said Sal flatly, and rolled past him with no gesture of