Sam left the kitchen and went to the staircase,pausing to rub his thumb over the balustrade. A streak of scarred wood shone ruddily through the grime. Placing his feet carefully to avoid perforations of rot on the steps, he made his way to the second floor. At intervals he made a face and let out a puff of breath, as if at some noxious odor. "She's right," he said ruefully' as he reached the second-floor landing. "This place is nothing but a teardown."
That sent a jolt of worry through the ghost. What would happen to him if someone razed the house to the ground? It might extinguish him for good. The ghost couldn't conceive that he had been trapped alone here only to be snuffed out for no apparent reason. He circled around Sam, studying him, wanting to communicate but afraid it might send the man screaming from the place.
Sam walked right through him and stopped at the window overlooking the front drive. Ancient grime coated the glass,blunting the daylight in soft gloom. A sigh escaped him. "You've been waiting a long time, haven't you?" Sam asked quietly.
The question startled the ghost. But as Sam continued,the ghost realized he was talking to the house. "I bet you were something to see, a hundred years ago. It would be a shame not to give you a chance. But damn,you're going to take some serious cash.And it's going to take just about everything I've got to get the vineyard going. Hell,I don't know...."
As the ghost accompanied Sam through the dusty rooms, he sensed the man's growing attachment to the ramshackle