Bride of Haven House: Vintage American Gothics, #1

By Lisa Greer

She needed a husband; he wanted an inheritance. Would their marriage of convenience be a nightmare for both of them?

It's Christmas time, 1971, and Sophie Banister is out of options. Unemployed and the mother of a three week old daughter, her controlling husband has walked out on her with only a cruel letter. When she meets handsome airline executive John Granger by chance, he makes an offer she can’t refuse.

Swept up in a whirlwind marriage of convenience, Sophie arrives at Haven House just months later, her new husband’s estate in the isolated Black Hills of South Dakota. But all is not well. Threats surround her, and intentions are shrouded. Even as she is attracted to her moody new husband, she doubts he can be trusted, and what of his younger brother, Evan—an enigma who offers her friendship, and perhaps something forbidden? 

She must uncover the secrets of Haven House and its inhabitants if she wants to save herself and her child.

*This is a gothic romance novella in the style of the vintage gothic romances of the 1960s and 70s. Others will follow in the Vintage American Gothics Series and will follow the Granger family:

May 2018:  Shroud of Darkness
August 2018: Black Roses for My Mistress

Excerpt: She quickly set a bedside alarm for an hour later, so she would have time to dress for dinner. The house ate formally in the dining room most nights unless it was decided otherwise, she had been told by John. The thought sent butterflies teeming through her stomach. Almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was oblivious to the world.
The scent of roses pervaded the room, and someone was singing softly—a haunting ballad she didn’t recognize:
"O what is the matter?" Lord Lover, said he, 
"O what is the matter?" said he.
"Lord, a lady is dead," an old lady said, 
"And her name was Lady Nancy."

He ordered her grave to be opened wide,
Her shroud to be torn down, 
And there he kissed her cold pale lips, 
Till the tears came trinkling down.

Lady Nancy was buried in the cold church ground.
Lord Lover was buried close by her; 
And out of her bosom there grew a rose,
And out of Lord Lover's a briar.

As the song went on, the woman’s voice young and tremulous, the scent of roses grew heavy and cloying, then rancid. A great feeling of sadness swept over Sophie—a feeling of loss.
The voice faded, along with the shadow of a woman, standing beyond her vision in the corner of the room. Sophie woke up with a start. 
“It was just a dream,” she whispered. But how strange it had been! The scent of roses in her room was no longer sweet. It gagged her, and the woman. It was as if she had been in the room, but Sophie knew she had been asleep--alone.
She shrugged it off as the nerves of being in a new place and yawned, stretching. The nap had done little good. She felt as if she hadn’t slept at all, likely due to the troubling dream—or nightmare. Just then, her alarm went off, startling her. Sophie shut it off with a slam of her hand down on the button. 

* * * * 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisa Greer
• Release date: Jan 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386721208

Book preview

Chapter One

December, 1971

Thank you so much, Sarah. I swear I’ll pay you when I can—more than I owe you, Sophie Banister said, handing off her wiggling baby to the older woman who lived in the apartment next to her. Tears pricked her eyelids. She was so tired, but she couldn’t stop to rest now. There was too much to be done since David had walked out two days ago.

She knew he wasn’t coming back, and that was a good thing—except that yesterday, she had learned that he had cleaned out the bank account and left her with the baby and no way to find steady work. She couldn’t afford to without reliable childcare. Sarah pinch hitting while she job searched would have to do for now.

What a fool she’d been, trusting a man!

She heard her mother’s voice in her head, the one she had snubbed when she’d married David Banister so young, right out of high school and neglected getting a college degree. Always have your own money. Don’t rely on a man for everything, Sophie.

Sarah’s voice shook her from her bitter reverie. Don’t worry about paying me. You’re a good friend, so we’re even. It’s the least I can do. You be careful out there. The cold is biting. Sarah raised an eyebrow and shushed the baby.

I will. Thank you so much. She turned and shuffled out the door, closing it behind her before Sarah could see the tears falling.

Sophie squared her shoulders, wiping her face. She had to do this—for the baby, for Maya Jane. She’d find a job doing something if it killed her. She knew she could talk Sarah into babysitting for a song regularly if she had to. Sophie didn’t want to put her neighbor out, but if that’s what it was going to take for her and her daughter to survive, she would do what she must and make it up to the other woman later when things were better.

If they ever were.

Sophie smoothed her plaid skirt under her hands, glad her baby weight had dropped off almost miraculously. At least she didn’t look like a new mother, other than the dark circles she knew ringed her eyes.

With any luck, she would get this job with a local catering company. They needed the holiday help for parties, and maybe it would end up being permanent.

She stepped out into the bitterly cold Chicago day.

* * * *

Two weeks later

Sophie, take these canapes to the front of the house, her boss Joanne ordered.

Of course, she said. Her feet ached, but she smiled. She was grateful to have work tonight on Christmas Eve. She was being paid time and a half for the holiday, and Baby Maya was safe with Sarah tonight. Things weren’t wonderful, but at least she would be able to pay the rent in a week from now.

She wound through the house from the back, murmuring her excuses as she brushed past clumps of women and men in glittering, formal attire. They were in the mayor’s home, and it was his big Christmas party for city officials, business people, and other notables.

Excuse me. I couldn’t help but notice you, a good looking man said as she offered him the canape tray. She noticed a shiny, black cane at his side, but he was far too young for a cane, she would have thought.

Oh, would you like a canape? Sophie said, avoiding eye contact. Her boss had been very strict in her order for the party: no fraternizing with the guests. Be professional.

Sure. The man took one. But what I’d really like is ten minutes of your time.

Sophie noticed a fine royal blue suit and sparkling cuff links. She sneaked a glance at his face. Peppered black hair fell almost to his shoulders, and his strong jawline was rough with stubble. I have to serve the guests. I can’t—

I’ll make it worth your while. He smiled, showing rows of white, straight teeth. Something about them was a bit predatory, and Sophie shivered in the cold wind that blew through the yard.

I’m sorry, but I have to get back to the party, she said abruptly.

Of course. I’ll find you later. He nodded slowly at her, and she practically ran away with the tray.

* * * *

Sophie was so busy, she didn’t notice the man again after that in the whirl of offering food to guests and refilling trays over and over again. After the party, she was in the large kitchen, helping wash up the dishes.

Sophie, someone wants to speak to you. You’re dismissed for the night. I’ll call you when I need you again. It’ll be soon. Her boss Joanne gave her a tight smile and motioned toward the door.

Who is it? She asked, putting down the dish she had just dried.

John Granger. He’s a business man from South Dakota. He’s one of the executives of America Flies—you know, the new airline that’s doing so well?

Okay, I’m not sure I know him. But she had a feeling he was the man who had tried to get her attention earlier. A pit of nerves writhed in her stomach. What did he want from her?

Joanne waved her hand. It doesn’t matter. He asked me about you earlier this evening, and just now, gave me money for your time away from helping us clean up. Now go. Her boss cocked her head toward the door.

Yes, boss. Merry Christmas, Sophie said, knowing an order when she heard one.

I’ll be in touch. Good work tonight, and Merry Christmas to you. Joanne gave her a wicked grin. Rumors would fly now, no doubt.

Sophie grabbed her coat off the wooden peg near the kitchen door and walked out of the house and into the cold night air, unsure why John Granger wanted to