The Haunted Love Affair

By Constance Bretes

Pamela Parkins accepted a live-in housekeeping job with Dr. Casada and his son, Max, in a house built in the 1900s. Wht she didn't expect was that the house was haunted by spirits. More specifically, her bedroom.

Dr. Casada didn't believe in spirits, he has a purely mathematical mind, and there was no rom for the paranormal, right?

Strange things are happening in the house. Things she couldn't explain. On top of that, she's fallen for the doctor. Can they solve the mystery of what is happening? Will she find her happy ever after with the doctor?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Constance Bretes
• Release date: Oct 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9780578565965

Constance Bretes

Constance Bretes is an author of contemporary romance an suspense. Her romance books are often set in different parts of the country, but her favorite site is Montana. She’s married to her best friend and resides in Alabama with him and two cats. Her hobbies include basket weaving, diamond painting, and reading. When she’s not working on one of her projects, she can be found writing, researching, and spending time with her husband.

Book preview

Chapter 1

PAMELA PARKINS

I follow the directions to secluded Higgins Lake outside Cambridge, Massachusetts, and turn onto a long, paved driveway. Just past several large pine trees and staggered lamp posts, a huge, stone house built back in the early 1900s makes me catch my breath. It has a turret at one corner in the front and as I drove up the driveway past the house, there was a three-car garage in the back that appeared to be added to the house much later. One of the garage doors stands open.

Dr. Jason Casada lives well. Wonder what kind of a doctor he is? On the phone he sounds like a mature, older man.

At this point it doesn’t matter. I need a place to live and a job. Dr. Casada’s looking for a live-in housekeeper. After earning my MBA from the University of Michigan, I’d expected to get a position as anything but a housekeeper. That doesn’t matter. I need to impress this Dr. Casada and convince him I’m right for the job. Drawing a deep breath and letting it out slowly. I open my door on my old trusty Chevy Cavalier and step out.

A teenager whizzes out of the garage on a skateboard. He’s a cutie, about fifteen years old, with long black hair in cornrows, and dark tanned skin. Hi, he says as he zooms past.

Hello. Is this Dr. Casada’s home? I have to raise my voice and he turns back to me.

Yeah, you here about the housekeeping job?

Yes, I am.

The boy tips the skateboard up, grabs the end, and walks over to me. His dark brown eyes scan me up and down. Follow me.

I follow the boy into the garage and then into a glass-sided breezeway that connects the house to the garage. To the right, a huge in-ground pool with a wooden fence around it makes me slow for a second. It’s the middle of May, much too early to open the pool or use the lawn chairs and picnic table. We walk through a mudroom that has a small bathroom along with a top-of-the-line washer and dryer.

My young guide leads me into a kitchen where a nice dinette sits in front of a large window overlooking the back yard and the pool. The wallpaper on the walls is accented with rose and hunter green colors. I spot a formal dining room that looks quite elegant. A crystal chandelier hangs over an oak table, and same wallpaper of rose and green reflects the dark green carpet. Off the dining room is the turret.

I stood in the kitchen while the young man sauntered to the stairway where he yells up the stairs. Dad, someone’s here about the housekeeping job.

He turns back to me and smiles. Have a seat, he’ll be down in a second.

Thank you. I pull the plush dark green chair out from under the table and sit down. I open my briefcase and pull out my resume. I glanced out the kitchen window to the pool outside. It looks almost inviting, if it wasn’t for my fear of water, so it’s not something I enjoy doing. I hope I don’t have to clean it. Soon the sound of footsteps on the stairs draws my attention. I glanced up as he comes to the landing and I have to make myself close my mouth.

This man is a doctor and a father? When I called for an interview, he indicated that only he and his son lived in the house. So, he’s not married? I swallow hard, hoping I am not drooling. The man looks like a god, and his son is almost an exact replica. He stands taller than the boy, probably about five-nine or ten. With his long black hair, dark skin, midnight black eyes, and a great build. His aftershave cologne smells heavenly and expensive.

I stand up. He doesn’t smile as he approaches. He does offer his hand. He appears to be the silent type. Hello, you’re Pam Parkins? His voice is low and rich.

I study him. He has on a black pair of jeans that fit him like a glove, a black shirt open at the neck, black boots and a black belt with a shining silver buckle that makes him look like he belongs on a calendar.

Shaking his hand, I finally find my voice. Uh...Yes, I’m Pam Parkins, and you’re Dr. Casada.

He motions for me to be seated, pulls out the chair next to me, and sits down.

I understand you are looking for a live-in housekeeper, I say as professionally as I can manage. The beauty of the man makes it hard for me to stay focused. I am both intrigued and a little frightened.

Yes. I’m looking for someone to keep everything clean, neat, and in place. I also need the person to be able to do laundry, fix occasional meals, and keep an eye on kids during the summer when my son has visitors over for his pool gatherings. I’m particular about dust. My son and I have allergies to dust, so we need the house to be free of all dust contaminant. There may be an occasional social gathering here in the evenings, mostly on weekends, and I’ll need someone to prepare the food and the place for the visitors. What are your skills at housecleaning? He looks back at me and stares into my eyes.

I think I can drown in his gaze. I hand him my resume. I come very highly recommended by Dr. and Mrs. Campbell, across the lake from here, and also, from Dr. Kathryn Middleton, at the south end of the lake. I’ve done everything you mentioned and then some. Dr. Middleton has a young girl that I helped. I also babysat her daughter during the day. I taught her everything she needed to start her first year in school. I haven’t prepared meals for large groups of people, but I do have contacts for caterers that I call on when there is a party to plan, and I know how to decorate and lay out the food for the best advantage for the guests. I stop to let Dr. Casada take in the information I gave him.

Before I speak again, he asks. Do you have a problem sleeping in a bedroom upstairs with a bathroom that would be all yours to use?

In other words, there will be no separate house or small apartment in this very huge house that apparently only houses two people. I’d have to put my few pieces of furniture in a storage unit or sell them. I don’t have a problem with that, but what about meals and food?

If I decide to hire you, you can eat whatever you want here, and since you will be doing the grocery shopping, you can certainly pick up food that you like for yourself as well. I’d give you a budget or funds for things we need here, from cleaning supplies to food, and personal products. When you fix meals, you can certainly join us for the meal. We usually eat very informally here in the kitchen. We rarely use the dining room. I pay twelve dollars an hour. You can use one garage space to park your vehicle. I have a large office upstairs, and when I am home, I will alert you. But I will need it to be quiet because usually I’m helping my students who are working on their dissertations. Does that sound doable to you?

Students and dissertations? So, he’s a professor? Most definitely it would be doable and it all sounds wonderful to me. I mean, my God, I’d get to eat lunch or dinner with this man and his son? Yes, I think it is very doable. I don’t want to sound too excited, but this is the perfect answer to my prayers and my needs. May I ask, are you a professor?

Yes. He is abrupt. Okay. Let me give you a tour of the house and show you where things are. He stands up and I followed suit.

Okay. I smile, but he doesn’t. I grab a pad of paper and pen to write down notes as I walk through the house, noting details.

Even though the house is quite old, it looks like it has all the modern conveniences. He leads me into a massive living room. On one wall are a fireplace and two reclining chairs at each end of it. A couch sits in the middle of the room with a large sectional rug that looks Aztec or Native American in design. A huge sliding glass door opens onto a small patio with a gate into the pool area.

At the other end, a large flat screen television dominates the wall. It must be at least a fifty-two inch. Over the fireplace hangs a beautiful painting of a Native American scene, and the wood floor gleams. The foyer and the front entrance are a part of the living room. The solid oak front door has glass from top to bottom on both sides if it, and there is a closet, to hang coats. I jot down as many details as I can as I scrutinize the room.

How many bedrooms do you have? I ask.

The house originally had six bedrooms. Two downstairs, and four upstairs. I’ve converted two rooms upstairs into one room and made it my office.

He shows me the bedroom to the left. This is my son’s room.

It is a big room, with a lot of electronics, as well as a desk with his laptop and a smaller flat screen television, a full-size bed, dresser, closet, and a large picture window. I make note of the windows, the rug which would need vacuuming, and other miscellaneous things. Between his son’s room and the master bedroom is a large bathroom. It has a shower and bathtub combo, double sink, and the commode, all in white, with a window over the tub and shower. It was very clean and looked like it had recently been remodeled.

We haven’t been to all the rooms yet, and I’m already feeling like cleaning this house will be quite a task.

His bedroom is bigger than his son’s room. He has a king-size bed, another large screen television on the wall across from the bed, with two dressers, a chair, and a sliding glass door to another private patio where he has a patio chair and table. He also has a massive private bathroom. It contains a huge shower, a garden tub, large double sink and mirror, the commode. He has a wavy glass pattern window over the garden tub. I imagine myself going through ten gallons of window cleaning for all the windows and tiles I’ve seen just on the ground floor, and we haven’t even been upstairs or in the dining room yet. Have I got myself into something too big?

This place is the lap of luxury, but all that stuff has to be cleaned. He leads me through the dining room that has a beautiful large oak table with a buffet and beautiful china in it and a large picture window looking out the front yard.

He doesn’t take me down the stairs to the basement. You are not to go into the basement. It is off limits.

Chapter 2

I WANT TO ASK HIM WHY, but he seems quite firm about it. The beautiful turret is accessible on the left of the dining room. A baby grand mahogany piano with large speakers stands out against the dark walls. A spiral staircase of wrought iron leads up to the top. Windows, windows and more windows. They have to be cleaned, so I scribble more notes on my pad of paper.

We leave the turret and walk to the stairways leading to the second floor. His office is a large room, two bedrooms combined into one.

You won’t need to worry about cleaning this room. I will deal with my office.

What do you teach? I ask.

Mathematics.

His abrupt one-word responses makes me curious, so I push a little more. So you are a doctor, which means you have a PhD. Where do you teach?

He is quiet for a few seconds before answering. A doctorate in Applied Mathematics, and I am a tenured professor at MIT.

To me, it sounds like he is a bit stuffy. I have found most professors in the advanced studies to be...odd. But MIT, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, is a prestige school.

He leads me into the bathroom that will be for my use only. It is much smaller than the ones downstairs, but it is sufficient.

He shows me the bedroom that would be for my use.

We go back downstairs, and he leads me out of the kitchen to the mudroom. The mud room also opens to the pool area, so visitors can go to the bathroom and change without going through the house. The half bath has a sink and a commode with some hooks for people to hang their clothing on.

Some people are particular about having others wash and dry their clothes. Is this also a part of the job or do you do your own wash?

No, I need help with laundry. Also, you will have access to use the laundry room for your clothing as well.

Hey, Dad? a voice from the breezeway hollers out.

Yeah, in here, Dr. Casada says.

Going down to Trapper’s house to play hoops for a while.

Okay, before you go, come here for a second.

The younger version of Dr. Casada enters the area.

This is my son, Max. Max, this is Pamela Parkins.

Hi, he says casually. Are you going to hire her? He looks at his dad.

I don’t know yet. I told you earlier that I would make my decision by the weekend.

Okay, see ya. Bye, Pam. The boy shrugs and walks out the door.

Does your son live here with you?

Half-time. He splits his week between his mother and me, and he spends all weekend here. During the summer, he lives here. Mostly because he loves the pool and having his friends over and partying.

How old is he?

He’s fourteen and going into twelfth grade. He goes to Alpine High School. He’s skipped several grades already.

What is his best subject?

Math.

Like his father. I smile.

The whole interview with this man is strictly professional. No humor, no smiles, nothing. Is he like this just because he is interviewing or is this the way he is? God, I hope he has a sense of humor and does laugh occasionally. It will be boring without fun or funny stuff.

Are you single, engaged or married? Dr. Casada asks.

I’m single. I glance up at him.

No boyfriend?

Nope. I hate saying that, but it is what it is.

I ask only because I am not interested in supporting a single man who like to mooch off his girlfriend’s boss.

I see. No. You don’t need to worry about that.

We walk back to the kitchen where he looks over my resume.

What is your system? How would you approach cleaning every day, in a big house like this one?

Well, I’d first start with a thorough cleaning of everything. That usually takes me three days. Then I set everything in cycles. For example, my initial cleaning will consist of all those items in this list. I point at the list on the resume. Then I break down the tasks. Some tasks are daily, some are every other day, and some are once a week. Do you need some extra things done that are not on the list?

Dr. Casada scans the list and then shakes his head. This looks pretty thorough. Are there any questions you have for me?

Um...I got two small items, an antique oak table, and a trunk that belonged to my grandmother. Is it okay if I bring them in and place them in the room you are providing?

He nods. Of course. If there is anything you don’t like in the room or want to replace with your stuff, you can move the items into the other bedroom. Ah...before I say I’ll hire you, I’d like to check your references. Also, I have several other applicants to consider, but I will let you know by this weekend, so you’re not left hanging.

Okay. I’d appreciate that. Do you have any more questions for me? I grab my briefcase and glance up at him. He is staring very intently at me, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

Not at this time. Will you be available to answer questions if they come up later?

Yes, my cell number is at the top of my resume by my name.

He nods.

Thank you, Dr. Casada, for considering me for this job. If you hire me, I promise I’ll do the very best that I can. I offer my hand and he shakes it.

Oh, there’s one thing I should warn you about.

I look back at him. Something about his tone makes me shiver.

"My son says this house is haunted. He hears things at night. Specifically, he says he hears someone screaming at night, in his room. When he’s slept in other rooms, he says he hears what sounds like someone walking, jingling keys and opening and closing doors. I have not heard any of this, and I attribute it to his having an overactive mind. I don’t buy