Dreams of Fire (Maple Hill Chronicles Book 1) by Elizabeth Alix Page B

nagged him to fit extra appointments into every available space, and as the only handyman for Gloria’s, he had to take every one. When the business was smaller he could manage, but it had grown to thirty properties. He was going to have to get some help or quit. This summer he’d taken to not returning to the office for anything unless he had no choice. But she called him relentlessly on his cell phone anyway. In spite of that, he’d gotten done half an hour earlier than he’d expected and felt a glimmer of hope that he could do a little work in his studio before bed.
    He inserted his key into the padlock on the old door and slid it across, revealing the woodshop with its machinery waiting quietly for him. The clean scent of wood shavings wafted out into the humid summer evening and cleared his head. He caught the scents of maple and pine, the sharp undercurrent of cedar, and the fruity aroma of cherry. As he walked through the shop, each project came to his hands like trusting animals in a barn. He stroked each one briefly and made his way to a table that held a mysterious object under a cloth amid a myriad of shavings. Carving and sanding tools lay where he’d put them down last night.
    He pulled the cloth aside and gazed at the as yet rudely formed piece underneath. There were hints that it would be about a foot high and rounded, maybe oval, but it had not revealed itself to him enough yet to tell what it was. He picked it up and perched on the metal stool nearby and held it in his hands waiting for it to speak to him. After a time he picked up a tool and began to work on it.

    The smoky wisp drifted and curled insubstantially through the house. Although it was doomed to stay here eternally, that didn’t mean it had to let this new woman become trapped as well. It wasn’t safe for her to stay. The danger was coming soon, a vortex inexorably drawing closer.

    The silence of the empty house pressed on Marianne’s ears again. The sad, anxious vibe stole over her, and she debated returning to the co-op for a late dinner. But, she reminded herself, I have dinner makings here, and I’m going to have to be frugal till I get the next project.  
    The smell of steak and onions was an effective antidote, and she made a salad to go with it. Oscar ate another can of kitty tuna while she ate standing by the counter. She surveyed the wallpaper up near the ceiling and tried to imagine cobalt blue in its place. The appliances were white, and the cabinets were light colored wood. Once she scrubbed everything down and painted, it would look nice, she thought. The linoleum on the floor was old and worn in places, but she could clean it, at least. Maybe Mrs. Thomas could spring for some new flooring? It was worth asking.
    As she cleaned up the silence and loneliness of the house around her grew. Feeling unaccountably anxious, she grabbed her purse, and walked to Main Street where she wandered up and down just to be near people and movement and life. Her steps took her eventually to Jonathan Sweet’s, and she got a dish of ice cream, lemon blueberry this time. As she sat by the window staring at the people on the street, she realized this was her new home. She wondered how she was going to meet people. Her research job was, by its nature, fairly solitary. She hoped for nice neighbors and remembered the cryptic remark Mrs. Thomas had made about them giving her a hard time. Maybe one of the other people on the block was eccentric or had extreme political or religious views? She was determined to meet her neighbors starting tomorrow. If that didn’t work, she would have to find a hobby or get involved with something locally.

    That night, Marianne dreamt she was walking through her new house, though it seemed to have more rooms or more space than she remembered. She heard heated voices, a man’s and a woman’s, somewhere up ahead. She couldn’t distinguish the words, though it was clear he was very angry about something. The