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    The Man In The Attic
    The Man In The Attic
    The Man In The Attic
    Ebook69 pages1 hour

    The Man In The Attic

    By Christiane France

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    About this ebook

    When Matt Jones takes a temporary job as a housekeeper/housesitter in an old three-story Queen Anne Victorian estate, he’s worried about patching up a misunderstanding with his new boyfriend. He has no idea he’ll be sharing the premises with a ghost and that within the month his life will drastically change.

    Never in Matt’s wildest dreams would he have imagined living with a ghost could be so exciting and rewarding...

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherChristiane France
    Release dateJul 18, 2016
    ISBN9781536522280
    The Man In The Attic

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      Book preview

      The Man In The Attic - Christiane France

      The Man In The Attic

      A cold wind picked up as I approached the house, sending the pile of dead leaves someone had collected flying off in all directions and reminding me that winter wasn’t too far away.

      The three-story Queen Anne style Victorian where I’d agreed to spend the next four weeks stood at the end of a short, tree-lined driveway. A monstrous monument to more affluent times when money grew on trees and servants were a dime a dozen. Despite the opposite now being the norm, it was clear someone still had the wherewithal and the kind of help it took to maintain it all like yesteryear. The lawns were beautifully manicured, the flower beds filled with late fall flowers rather than an assortment of weeds and the drive appeared to have recently been repaved.

      I paused and looked up at the house. No chipped paint, crumbling plaster, disintegrating drapes or any of the other telltale signs of imminent decay often found in a building that had weathered the elements for a hundred years or more. Like the gardens around it, the exterior had been lovingly maintained. Whatever had been done with the inside, as I continued on I hoped it went beyond paint and wallpaper and had been updated to include things like central heating and a state-of-the-art kitchen along with the latest in appliances. Laying and lighting wood fires was not among my qualifications.

      Taking this temporary job to care for the Lawsons’—the Victorian’s owners—home while their housekeeper was on vacation, was a step down from my previous position of keeping the household of a Toronto movie producer running smoothly. That job had come to an inglorious end when he’d fled his creditors—God only knew where to exactly—after losing everything in a string of box office disasters. Then the creditors had stepped in and grabbed what was left. I’d lost a good, well-paying job, and this temporary gig was the best the agency had to offer. I hadn’t been paid in over two months, and with my reserve funds seriously depleted, I couldn’t afford to be picky. I needed money, the salary the agency had quoted was better than good, so I’d put my professional pride on hold and said yes. A month here would give my finances the boost they needed and, most important of all, provide me with a temporary home while I looked around for more permanent employment.

      It would also give me time to figure out a way to put things right with my new boyfriend, Denis, whom I’d been introduced to a few weeks ago at a friend’s wedding. He was handsome and sexy, with a body dreams are made of, and one of the nicest people I’d met in a long time. We’d waited until the happy couple left on their honeymoon, then rented a room at the same hotel, stripped off our clothes and hadn’t put them on again until it was time to check out after the best three-day weekend I could remember.

      Since then, we’d spent every possible spare minute we had together. The sex was always awesome, each time better than the time before. We were perfect together. We were almost the same age. Denis was thirty-six, a year older than I was. We liked the same food, the same music, the same movies, even the same books. I’d thought about suggesting that we find a place together, but he hadn’t made any moves in that direction, and I hadn’t wanted to ruin things by appearing too eager.

      Then I’d caught him flirting with a much younger guy at a club where we’d arranged to meet and I was glad I’d kept my mouth shut. Denis said it was all completely innocent. He knew the guy from somewhere and they’d just stopped to say hi to one another. And despite what I may have thought I’d seen, all it amounted to was a little foolishness between old acquaintances that meant nothing. But, as they say, the onlooker sees most of the game. And I’d arrived early, in plenty of time to see the younger guy, all starry-eyed and pouty lips, caressing Denis’ ass and Denis clearly enjoying every single second of the experience.

      I wanted to believe it was nothing. I wanted things to go back to the way they were. But trust could be a bitch. And I just wasn’t sure.

      I continued to check out the house and noticed what I thought was a curtain twitch at the last window to my left on the third floor. I stopped, put down my bag and looked again, a little more closely this time, but other than the reflection of the taller trees swaying in the breeze there was nothing for me to see.

      The place was gorgeous, an extremely desirable property in real estate terms, yet there was something a little off about it... Not forbidding exactly, but as if it had secrets it didn’t want to share. Whatever it was, it sent an unexpected chill creeping down my spine and made me hesitate with my hand halfway to the polished, modern brass buzzer set in the brickwork to the right of the front door.

      All old houses had secrets. Everyone knew that, even me. I took a deep breath and told myself to get a grip as I reached out, pressed the damn button and waited. I’d heard it ring inside the house and I was expected, but nothing happened. The agency had made the arrangements and my instructions were to be here no later than noon. It was ten minutes short of that, so I

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