by Lisa Greer
Bride of Haven House
Vintage American Gothics, Volume 1
Lisa Greer
Published by Lisa Greer, 2018.
Bride of Haven House
(Vintage American Gothics #1)
by
Lisa Greer
Copyright 2018.
All rights reserved.
Lyrics from “Lord Lover”—an 18th century Scottish Ballad
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
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Further Reading: Sorrowmoor: The Complete Serials
To the state of South Dakota--a lovely place that is made of dreams.
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 talk to her. Who was she to him? A no one, but she still had her pride. If she had caught his eye with her slinky outfit that was required for the job and he just wanted a one night stand, she wasn’t interested, no matter his price. She couldn’t imagine what else he would want from her.
“Ms. Banister, correct?” John Granger said, stepping out from the shadows on the back porch where she had exited. He leaned lightly on his cane.
“Yes, Sophie Banister, and you are—?” She lifted her chin in a show of strength. She might be poor, but she wasn’t for sale as some rich man’s one night plaything.
“John Granger, at your service,” he said, taking her hand and bowing low.
Heat flooded her cheeks, and her confusion grew. What did he want? Was he mocking her?
“Nice to meet you,” she said, shifting her weight on her heels. Her feet were killing her, and all she wanted was her bed.
“I’m glad I finally got the chance,” Granger said, a smile on his full lips. “You didn’t make it easy.”
“Well, I had a job to do, and it’s getting late. I need to get home. What’s this about?” Sophie asked, glancing at her watch.
“It’s about a proposal. May I buy you a drink in the restaurant next door?” He tilted his head in that direction toward an expensive bistro that was still open.
“I understand. I know you’re tired, and I won’t keep you long. I think you might be interested in what I have to say,” Granger said, a confident look on his face.
“Fine. I have to walk that way to catch the bus anyhow.”
“Wonderful.” He offered her his arm, the cane in his other hand.
Sophie paused for a beat and then took it. At least they would be in public, and she would make her excuse as soon as she could to get away after the drink.
“So, how long have you lived in Chicago? Do you like it?” He asked as they walked at a brisk pace.
She could tell he had a slight limp, but he barely seemed to need the assistance of the cane. She wondered what injury he had.
Small snowflakes tumbled into Sophie’s face as the predicted snow began for the night. “All my life. I did like it. Now, it’s very expensive for me.” She bit her lip, kicking herself for saying that. What if he thought she was a gold digger?
“I see. It is a lovely place—full of life and cold tonight, but I’m used to that.” Granger laughed. “Here we are.”
He opened the front door of the bistro for her, and she walked in, sighing as the warmth hit her face. She had never been in this place or in any of Chicago’s upscale dining spots. The restaurant was posh with leather booths and gleaming silverware. Gold edging gleamed from every surface, or so it seemed.
“Table for two, Louis,” Granger said to the tuxedo clad host.
“Of course, Mr. Granger. Follow me.” He bowed and then led the way.
Sophie closed her mouth after realizing it was hanging open. They knew John Granger here. She was out of her league.
Granger’s hand was on the small of her back, gently guiding her through the low lit restaurant. She quite liked the sensation, in spite of her trepidation about what he might want or expect from her.
“Is this table to your liking?” The host pointed out a cozy corner booth.
“Yes, is it for you, Sophie?” Granger asked, studying her as if her opinion truly mattered.
“It’s perfect,” she mumbled.
“Good,” Granger said.
They both sat down. Sophie studied the man across from her. He was handsome—wickedly so, her best friend Abby would have said. His looks were gypsy-esque—dark and Other. Granger was night to her Irish Catholic day. Sophie was all red hair, green eyes, freckles, and pale skin.
“I know your time is valuable, so I’ll get right to it.” John Granger leaned forward and folded his hands on the table.
Just then, a waiter appeared. Granger ordered them both dry martinis and an appetizer of fondue.
“Thank you. I must admit that I’m confused about why you wanted to speak to me,” Sophie said, fighting not to twist her fingers together as she always did when she was nervous.
“I understand. I’ll get right to the point. Please hear me out. What I ask might seem a little shocking,” Granger said, a tight smile on his face.
Chapter Two
Sophie nodded and waited a moment. What in the world could he possibly want to ask her that would shock her more than asking her to go to bed with him? That had to be what this was about, wasn’t it? It was a strange way of doing things, though. He could have already gotten to the point if spending the night with her was his aim. She was sure he could have most any woman he wanted in this city. Why would he choose her—a pale, quiet working class girl from Chicago whom he didn’t even know?
“I am coming up against a deadline in my personal life—an important one. My father is dying, and with his death, the family estate will be up in the air as things currently stand.” A deep frown drew his brows together.
Sophie nodded, not knowing what to say. What did this have to do with her?
“Though I’ve made money and plenty of it, and I’m a 27 year old man, that doesn’t matter in terms of the will my father has made. I’m the oldest of two sons, and the house—Haven House—will go to me when he dies, if certain stipulations are met. I must say that I love the house. I can’t bear to see it leave me or the family.” He gave her a tight smile, as if the thought pained him.
“I see,” Sophie said, a strange feeling suffusing her. She felt like a heroine in an old novel, a pawn of a powerful fate she could not begin to understand. How could the affairs of a rich man have anything to do with her in the real world?
“Perhaps this will sound insane to you. It is insane, but my father will have his way. He won’t change his mind, and he is likely mere months from death. He has heart failure, and he’s fading fast.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Sophie said. She clasped her hands in front of her on the table to keep them from trembling.
“He has lived a full life.” John paused. “I must meet his conditions in the will if I am to inherit Haven House. Otherwise, my father will sell it off. It’s just one form of his control and usual cruelty.” Granger’s mouth twisted into something ugly.
“Inheritances, money. This isn’t my field of expertise,” Sophie said with a short laugh. “My family never had either. I don’t know what to say, but that sounds terrible.” David’s face popped into her mind and his words in the letter he’d left on the kitchen table just two and a half weeks ago: I don’t want to be married to you anymore. You’ll receive divorce papers in a few days. Please just sign them. You won’t see me again. Everything here is yours.
She was tired of cruel men and the havoc they wreaked.
“It will be a great loss if I don’t meet the stipulations of the will, but it doesn’t have to happen that way.” Granger leaned forward, his gaze intense. It drew Sophie in. “If I marry now and take my wife back to Haven House, then the stipulations for the inheritance are taken care of. When my father dies, I will be the new master of Haven House.” He smiled thinly.
“Oh, so it could all still work out for you,” Sophie said, the words coming out in a whisper. She felt quite out of her depth. An idea rose in her mind—a thought so outrageous, she couldn’t even give it form. He could not possibly be proposing that she was his choice to marry?
“Yes, and that’s why I have a proposal for you. From the moment I saw you tonight, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You are so lovely, and you seem so kind. Your boss, Joanne, told me about your situation as well.” Granger grimaced and looked down at his steepled hands.
Just then, the waiter delivered their drinks and fondue.
Sophie reached for her martini, taking a long, bracing sip. “She did? She had no right to—”
“I understand your annoyance. Perhaps she didn’t, but I asked her all I could about you. The fault is all mine.” He smiled—a disarming smile Sophie felt all the way to her bones.
“I really need to leave soon. As you know, I have a baby at home.” She threw the words at him as she dipped a strawberry in fondue. Sophie wouldn’t make this easy for John Granger—whatever he wanted from her.
“Yes, I know. So, let me get to the point. My proposal is this. I want you to marry me and go to South Dakota with me to live at Haven House—you and Maya, your daughter, of course.”
“How do you know her name?”
“Your boss told me that, too.” Granger gave an apologetic shrug.
“Of course she did.” Sophie fumed. Joann had overstepped her bounds in a big way.
“I could give you a wonderful life. Your daughter would have everything she needs.” Granger leaned back, waiting on her reply.
Sophie couldn’t even speak. She swallowed her fondue and took a long swig of her martini. “Look, John, I don’t even know you, and I’ve never lived anywhere but Chicago.”
“I understand this is a shocking proposal, but I hope you will consider it. I’ll need to know by tomorrow morning.” He clasped his hands together in a motion of finality.
“Tomorrow morni
ng?” Sophie laughed in disbelief.
“Yes, I’m sorry it’s so rushed, but we’ll need to get a marriage license before we can marry. Time is short,” Granger said, shrugging as if to apologize.
“Yes, about that. There’s one problem.” Sophie smiled archly.
“What’s that?”
“Though I have received divorce papers and signed them, my divorce won’t be final for a few months, I’m sure.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right. I wasn’t thinking.” Granger’s mouth drooped at the corners. “That does complicate things a bit.” He paused, obviously thinking. “Well, you can make the agreement beforehand that we will marry if it suits and come with me. All would be done properly, I can assure you—before the wedding. You would have your own bedroom and anything you need or want. All I need is your sworn agreement in writing that you will marry me by a certain date when the divorce is finalized.” He drummed on the table as if he were hitting the last note of a song.
Her objection hadn’t phased him at all. John Granger was quite extraordinary.
“I would have your word that things would be...proper until the wedding?” Her face felt hot.
“You would—in writing, too. Not just my word.” Granger smiled.
“I see.” Sophie paused, not wanting to seem eager, and not sure how she felt at all. Her head was spinning, but it had nothing to do with her virtually empty stomach or the martini. “How can I reach you to give you my answer?”
“Here’s my business card with the hotel number where I’m staying just down the street and my room number. Call me in the morning as soon as you can. I’ll expect to hear from you before lunch,” John Granger said, as if closing a business deal.
Sophie snorted. “So, that’s how it’s done?”
“What do you mean?” Granger said, lifting an eyebrow in puzzlement.
“You just get what you want because you’re rich and powerful. You know I’ll call. It’s not a request. It’s a demand.” She finished the martini, slamming the glass down angrily on the table. The sound echoed in the restaurant. Patrons grew quiet for a moment, listening.
