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Spirit Lake

Spirit Lake

Written By: Carol A. Guy
Series: Spirit Lake #1
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

Nestled near the base of Pennsylvania's Allegheny National Forest is the small town of Spirit Lake. Rich in fo...
Nestled near the base of Pennsylvania's Allegheny National Forest is the small town of Spirit Lake. Rich in folklore, it has become a tourist attraction due to its quaint atmosphere and unique antique shops. When Erica Parkhurst flees New York City in the wake of a marital split and accidentally discovers the little hamlet she is intrigued by the ghost stories surrounding the local inn and the mist-shrouded lake nearby. Then one night she encounters a mysterious man on the dock but before she can find out his name he disappears into the fog. Did she imagine him? During a trip into town the next day she see's the man again and follows him into a dead end alley, where he vanishes once more! Hot on the trail of his soon-to-be ex wife, Grant Parkhurst shows up unexpectedly at the inn but Erica flees out the back door into the surrounding woods to avoid a confrontation. Lost and frightened, she is met by a rescuer of the canine variety who leads her to a secluded cabin where she finally meets her elusive stranger, Joe Lakota, and his trusty wolf/dog, Mingo. Soon Erica finds herself involved in a murder case when a skeleton washes up at the edge of the lake and Joe becomes the prime suspect. Can she risk falling in love with a man who may be a murderer? And what other secrets are hidden beneath the glassy surface of Spirit Lake?
Echoes of the Past

Written By: Carol A. Guy
Series: Spirit Lake #2
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

It's mid-October and now that her divorce is final, Erica Parkhurst is free to return to Spirit Lake and Joe L...

It's mid-October and now that her divorce is final, Erica Parkhurst is free to return to Spirit Lake and Joe Lakota, the man she left behind. Yet she is riddled with doubts and fears. Can they rekindle their romance of the summer? And can she put aside memories of her terrifying experience at the hands of a coldblooded killer and go back to the small town in Western Pennsylvania?

An urgent call for help from Evelyn Black, proprietor of the Spirit Lake Inn where Erica stayed during her last visit, decides the issue. Accompanied by her best friend, Paula Bascilla, Erica leaves New York City again for the Allegheny Mountains and an uncertain future. But once more, trouble comes Erica's way when she learns that Joe has another dark secret hidden in his past, one that makes him a prime suspect in a new murder case.

Paula Bascilla, a woman with psychic abilities, can feel the spirits surrounding her the minute she steps into the inn. Excited at the prospect of contact with some of the wayward ghosts, she is looking forward to her stay. What she isn't counting on however, is being blindsided by tall, unassuming Cal Motega, co-owner of The Eagle Hill Cafe. 

As Erica and Paula contend with the inn's unpredictable guests, arson fire and at the same time try to clear Joe's name, they discover a valuable link to Erica's past that could tie her to Spirit Lake forever. But there are still many unanswered questions. Will Erica's love for Joe survive this latest test? Who are the ghosts haunting the inn and why can't they rest? Is Paula willing to give love a chance with the mysterious Cal Motega?

Return to Spirit Lake and find out.


She moved on to the next painting, which was totally bereft of people. Then she recognized the landscape. It was the hill where the inn now sat and below it the lake, only the dock wasn’t there, just the woods surrounding it.

“I see you recognize it,” Cal observed.

“Was it a burial mound?” Paula asked.

Cal’s hands now rested lightly on her shoulders. When had he put them there? She wasn’t sure, but it felt good. No, it was more than that, it felt natural. Like they belonged there.

“That story has circulated since I can remember, but there’s no proof.”

“Surely there are records somewhere.”

“The Hartsburg Historical Society has volumes of records going back to the 1700s, but I’ve never bothered to go looking. Most of what I know about my own ancestors comes from stories handed down through the generations, and they don’t mention it.”

“There’s no local historical society?”

Cal shook his head. “Combined them years ago. Financial reasons. Hartsburg had more funds available and the one here was dying.”

Paula smelled the aroma emanating from the kitchen. “Hazelnut coffee?”

“Thought you might like it,” he told her.

He withdrew his hands and she suddenly missed his touch. “My favorite. How did you know?”

“Psychic,” he quipped.

They drank their coffee at the small drop-leaf table by the kitchen window and talked some more. She loved the sound of his voice, deep, resonant, masculine.

She’d chosen her outfit carefully for this evening. The skirt was of a rich deep tan chamois, and hit her just below the knees. She had shapely calves, or at least she’d been told that, so she wanted to make sure he saw them. No hose. She had a good tan. Her shirt was emerald green, with three- quarter length sleeves and a scoop neck that showed just enough cleavage to be enticing, but not slutty. At least that’s what Erica had told her before Cal picked her up. Of course there was an abundance of jewelry, including a pair of gold double loop earrings with the smaller loops hanging inside the larger ones.

Cal offered her cookies, she declined. “Got to keep my girlish figure, you know. At least what’s left of it.”

“Your figure looks just fine to me, at least what I can see of it,” he countered, eyeing her with a little more intensity than his tone indicated.

Paula knew, this moment would set the tone for the rest of the evening. Casual and friendly or very friendly, it was up to her. Cal had effectively put the ball in her court to make that decision. “I like you, Cal. A lot. It would be very easy right now to—”

He got up, came around the table, pulled her to her feet, into his arms and kissed her soundly. The minute she felt his body against hers, his tongue probing her mouth, she forgot her little let’s-start-out-slowly-and-see-what-happens speech.

Then, he surprised the hell out of her when he pulled back and led her to the sofa. “I want to hear about you, Paula. How about some more coffee?”

It's mid-October and now that her divorce is final, Erica Parkhurst is free to return to Spirit Lake and Joe Lakota, the man she left behind. Yet she is riddled with doubts and fears. Can they rekindle their romance of the summer? And can she put aside memories of her terrifying expericence at the hands of a cold blooded killer and go back to the small town in Western Pennsylvania?
Slay Bells Ring

Written By: Carol A. Guy
Series: Spirit Lake #3
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

It's the holiday season and Erica Parkhurst, part owner now of the Spirit Lake Inn, has organized an event cal...

She ran through the darkness, her breath coming in short rasps, her heart hammering painfully against her ribcage. The lake was behind her and she could hear the water slapping against the dock pilings. She didn't dare stop to look back, although every fiber in her being wanted to do so. She had to get away from him, had to hide somewhere.

Her dress was in tatters, her hair a tangled mess around her face. It was becoming harder and harder to run, her legs didn't want to work, they felt weak and shaky. She could still feel the slap of his hand against her swollen cheek.

Get away…never look back…run…run.

"No! Leave me alone!" Erica Parkhurst shouted. She sat up in bed and frantically looked around her, still half asleep and unable to fully recognize her surroundings.

Next to her, Joe Lakota stirred and mumbled, "Hmm…what's that?" Then he sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, casting a soft, amber glow over the cozy bedroom. From the floor, Mingo whined and yawned, stretching as he stood. His coat was multicolored and thick. The eyes were amber, set in a face that looked like it wore a mask of gray. Part wolf, part dog, he'd been raised by Joe from a pup.

Slowly, Erica took in the sturdy furniture and the thick comforter that was now in disarray around her. She was safe, with the man she loved, in the cabin he'd built with his own two hands.

Mingo laid his head on her leg and searched her face with big soulful eyes. She absently rubbed the canine's head. "I'm sorry, Joe. I had a nightmare. But it was so real."

He scooted closer to her and put a muscular arm around her shoulder, pulling her against his bare chest.

Erica had met Joe when she first happened upon Spirit Lake in July. She'd been running from a broken marriage, looking for a place of refuge and solitude. One night's stay at the local bed and breakfast had turned into something much more, when she found herself embroiled in not only a murder investigation, but a ghost hunt as well. Months later, the inn's owner, Evelyn Black, had asked her to return and run the business while she recuperated from surgery. Erica had done so, bringing along Paula Bascilla, her best friend. Actually, Erica would have come without Paula if it had meant seeing Joe again.

"Want to talk about it?" Joe asked, kissing the side of her head.

She looked at him and smiled. His dark eyes studied her with concern. His Iroquois heritage gave his skin a coppery glow, especially in this lighting. She felt her heart flutter a little as he stroked her cheek with a fingertip.

She shook her head and felt some of her thick, coppery hair tumble over her face. He made no move to push it back. She knew why, he liked the way she looked when she was "bed tumbled" as he called it.

"It was just a dream." She smiled again.

"Maybe I need to hang another dream catcher," Joe whispered, nodding backwards toward the feathered charm dangling above the headboard.

"To catch and destroy my bad dreams?" Erica asked.

Mingo snorted as though in disdain and resumed his previous position on the floor.

"I don't think Mingo appreciates my interrupting his sleep," Erica chuckled.

"Why don't you tell me what's really going on, Erica?" Joe asked, his expression somber.

Erica stroked his chest lightly. "Well, let's see…Christmas is only three weeks away and tomorrow our guests arrive for the inn's very first--"

He interrupted, "I'm not talking about that. You know what I mean." He put a little distance between them and propped himself up on one elbow. He looked at her, waiting for an answer.

Erica sighed. "I've been having this recurring dream. I'm back in time I think, because my clothing is old fashioned. I'm being chased up the hill from the lake. I'm desperate and frightened. It gets all muddled after that." She thought for a moment. "Forget it. It's no big deal. It's probably just the stress of the upcoming events. That and all the research we've been doing on the inn's past."

"You don't think what happened in October has something to do with it?" He eyed her closely, worry creasing his brow.

She had to admit, he had a point. "We had some damage control to do after the murder of a guest, that's for sure. And that is why this Christmas event is so important. I just don't want anything to go wrong."

Joe looked at the window and pointed. "It's snowing again. Should be the perfect atmosphere for your guests tomorrow."

Erica got up, put on one of Joe's flannel shirts, which hit her slender frame mid- thigh, and went to the window. She sat down on the window seat that, just months ago, had held one of Joe's best kept secrets. The snow was falling in large, lacy flakes, covering the two inches that had settled over the landscape yesterday.

"Looks like the stage is set," Joe said, joining her. He'd brought the comforter which he now wrapped around them both.

They sat there for the next hour, snuggled together, watching the snow fall.

It's the holiday season and Erica Parkhurst, part owner now of the Spirit Lake Inn, has organized an event called Enchanted Christmas. The weeklong event was to be open to couples only, but again fate intervenes and things don't go as planned. Paula Bascilla, Erica's best friend, is now living with her lover, Cal Motega, but things are not on an even keel. Cal is harboring a secret he will not share with her, yet one that keeps him up nights and causes bizarre behavior that is beginning to frighten her. But soon, Paula makes a discovery that will change both of their lives forever. When the guests arrive, Erica is in for an unpleasant shock when one of them turns out to be someone from her past and another one is there to promote a business deal that could adversely affect the inn's future. Then when a guest is murdered and Cal arrested for the crime, Erica, Paula and Joe must get to the truth. In the meantime, ghostly activity is running rampant, involving the guests this time to the point where one is injured. Yet Erica and Paula feel they are getting closer to unlocking some of the secrets of the inn's spectral residents. Spend the holidays in Spirit Lake where more secrets are revealed, lives are changed and romance still blossoms against the backdrop of a winter wonderland.
House of Secrets

Written By: Carol A. Guy
Series: Spirit Lake #4
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

It is spring in Spirit Lake and Erica Parkhurst, part owner of the very haunted Spirit Lake Bed & Breakfast, i...

Erica was crossing the foyer headed for the parlor when a tall, dark haired man wearing blue Dockers and an open neck yellow shirt stepped inside. He was tan and muscular. He removed a pair of expensive looking sunglasses and scanned the room. His eyes were the most amazing shade of turquoise she'd ever seen. To say he was good looking didn't begin to cover it. He was hot!

"I'm obviously in the right place. I recognize this foyer from the publicity shots on the website. I'm Andrew Harrington."

"Erica Parkhurst. Welcome to the Spirit Lake Inn. Thank you for agreeing to cancel your other reservation and stay with us on such short notice." She couldn't help but enjoy the view.

"Christine will be along. She's gone around back to take a look at that wonderful lake of yours."

Erica hoped poor Christine wasn't being treated to a view of the Richters making love, or worse yet, renewing their argument. Andrew Harrington seemed to be looking for something as he glanced around and even peeked into the parlor.

"I can give you the guided tour," Erica offered.

"No need. I'm sure we'll see it all in good time. I'll go get the bags, unless you have someone who takes care of that."

"Raymond is out overseeing the work being done in the garden, I'm afraid."

"That tall older man, yes I saw him. He has a dog with him. Don't bother him, I can manage."

Erica smiled. It would seem Mingo and Raymond were bonding after all. "I'm afraid you'll have to move the car, also."

"I figured as much. Just let me get the bags first. Where should I park it?"

Erica stepped around Andrew and went out onto the porch. In passing, she caught a whiff of his after shave--tangy, spicy, and sexy. The Harringtons were driving a sleek, black Corvette.

"You can park on the access road at the bottom of the hill, next to the driveway," she told him. "The workmen should be gone in a couple of hours. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. The rain threw things off schedule."

He smiled, exposing the most perfect teeth she'd ever seen. "You don't have to tell me. We drove through torrential downpours yesterday. Christine hates to fly."

Erica recalled that the Harringtons were from New York City. "Well, it's not that much of a drive. I lived in the Big Apple for many years."

Andrew Harrington's smile faded. "Do tell." His tone showed disinterest. "Oh, there's Christine, now."

The woman who came around the corner of the house was of medium height with short, stylishly cut auburn hair and deep brown eyes. A pair of oversize sunglasses rested on top of her head. She was wearing yellow slacks and a matching blouse. She looked crisp and cool in spite of the humidity.

"That lake is beautiful, Andy, you should look at it. Do you allow swimming?" Her gaze was now focused on Erica.

"No…there's an undertow," Erica said quickly. She never went into the real reason with guests.

"Pity," the woman said. "I'm Christine Harrington, by the way. And you are?" She joined her husband who was now taking two pieces of expensive looking luggage out of the trunk of the Corvette.

Erica introduced herself but didn't offer to shake the woman's hand. Somehow she could sense that Christine Harrington wasn't the type to welcome such an overture. Now that the Harringtons were standing side by side she could fully appreciate what a striking looking couple they were.

"It just feels good to stretch my legs. Why Andy insisted on bringing the two-seater on this trip, I'll never know," Christine said.

"Stop complaining, Chris. It has plenty of legroom and trunk space to boot. That why I like this model. Plus it is a convertible. What more could you want?"

Christine looked around. "Where's your bellman?"

"It's not the Hilton, Chris. We tote our own here," Andrew Harrington told her.

Erica noted that Christine Harrington's nose went up in the air just a little but that the space between her brows didn't move even though the rest of her face played at making a frown.

Botox. No doubt about it.

Just then the Richters rounded the corner of the house from the parking area. Erica was glad to see that things had settled down between them for the moment. At the same time, the cement workers headed down toward the dock, carrying their lunch pails.

Raymond joined Erica and her guests. Mingo was nowhere to be found.

When the Harringtons introduced themselves to the Richters, Erica was surprised to see that Pamela hung back, acting almost shy. Andrew Harrington, however, seemed to take a special interest in her. He was standing very close and even brushed a stray strand of her long black hair off her face when another sudden breeze ruffled it.

Christine Harrington, seemed to be cool with the attention her husband was lavishing on Pamela, but Erica could see that she was seething inside. Her soft brown eyes now had golden flecks dancing in them.

Erica decided it was time to move things along. Laying a hand on Andrew Harrington's arm she said, "Why don't I show you to your room? We have snacks available, nothing fancy, just sandwich makings and a veggie tray," She led the Harringtons inside. Raymond followed, carrying one of their bags.

Christine examined the foyer with a critical eye and insisted on taking the elevator. The men took the stairs.

When Erica opened the door to their room, Christine stood for a moment, surveying things. "It's certainly cozy. Isn't it, Andy?"

Andrew Harrington put his bag on the bed and indicated that Raymond should do the same with the one he carried. He then reached into his pocket and took out a ten dollar bill, thrusting it at Raymond, who backed up and flinched as though he'd been struck in the face. He then left the room without uttering a word.

Erica felt embarrassment color her cheeks. "He's also a guest. He's just helping out with the garden restoration. I'm sorry I didn't make that clear."

Christine Harrington raised an eyebrow. "So you put your guests to work? Maybe we should have checked in at the Hilton after all, Andy."

"It's a Hampton Inn, Chris," Andrew Harrington said idly, then asked Erica, "Tell, me, where's your co-owner?"

Erica turned around and faced him. "She's been ill. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. The website mentions you both," He favored her with that perfect smile again.

Christine flung open the closet door and peered inside. "Where's the bathroom?"

"There are two, at the other end of the hall," Erica told the woman. She was beginning to like her even less than she liked Pamela Richter.

Christine sniffed with obvious disdain. "We have to share a bathroom with the other guests?"

"Is this your first visit to a bed and breakfast?" Erica shot back before she could stop herself.

Andrew laughed out loud. "Is it that obvious? This was my idea, I'm afraid."

Christine sniffed haughtily. "I'd never heard of this place. I didn't even know we were on the cancellation list until Andy informed me we'd be staying here instead of a real hotel." She opened a suitcase and began hanging things up in the closet.

Andrew sidled up to Erica, keeping his voice low. "Christine is more of a luxury hotel person, but I thought that it might be fun to do something different. Don't worry; she'll live right through it."

He kept moving, forcing Erica into the hallway. Before she could reply, the door was closed firmly in her face.


* * * *


After her unceremonious ouster from the Harrington's room, Erica returned to the first floor. Somewhat miffed by Andrew's abruptness, she decided to leave the food in the refrigerator. If they wanted something to eat, they could ask. She wandered out the back door in search of Mingo, only to find him digging in the freshly turned earth where the gazebo would sit. The workmen were gathered around the area, pointing and chattering like excited school children. Raymond was kneeling by the hole, using one hand to brush at the dirt. As she drew closer she could see that he'd uncovered something.

"What's going on?" she called, joining the group. Then she saw what the furor was about.

"It is a gun," one of the men said in a heavily accented voice.

Raymond pulled the object out of the dirt and held it up for all to see. "Indeed it is."

It was a revolver with a barrel Erica surmised was at least six inches long. The handgrip, although caked with mud, looked like wood.

Raymond stood up and examined his find. "I say, this is quite an antique. He brushed it off as best he could. "It's an old forty-five caliber Colt Peacekeeper. Six shot cylinder."

Erica took a good look at the weapon. "How can you tell? It's filthy."

Raymond turned the revolver over and over in his hands. "Guns have been a hobby of mine for a good many years. This baby was manufactured by Colt around 1873. Some call it the single action Army revolver."

Erica didn't like this one bit. What was a gun doing buried in the garden, especially under a cement slab? "Who do you suppose put it there, Raymond?"

By now the workmen had all closed in, wanting a better look at the weapon. Raymond held it away from them and turned to Erica. "I don't know, but we need to get it inside and clean it up. It looks like it's in good shape, in spite of some rust. The handgrip has held up well. I'd say it's been in the ground for a long, long time though."

"Should we report it to the authorities?" She looked nervously over her shoulder and was relieved to see that the Richters were no longer in the driveway. She assumed they'd gone back inside the inn.

"Look….the dog…" one of the workmen yelled, pointing to where Mingo now dug furiously a few feet away.

Erica rushed at the animal then took a sudden step back when she looked down and saw what he'd uncovered. Memories of July when he dragged a skeletal hand into Joe's cabin, and of December when she'd found him just sitting near this spot staring at the place where the gazebo once stood, came flooding back. "Oh God, Raymond, is that a--"

He finished the sentence for her. "Skull?" He knelt next to Mingo and brushed the rest of the dirt off the object. "Yes, it's a human skull."

It is spring in Spirit Lake and Erica Parkhurst, part owner of the very haunted Spirit Lake Bed & Breakfast, is looking forward to her June wedding to Park Ranger Joe Lakota. Erica’s best friend and co-owner of the inn, Paula Bascilla, is getting ready to move back to the inn with her fiancé, Cal Motega, as they await the birth of their first child. A former guest, Raymond Livingston, is also on hand to oversee the restoration of the rose garden, which was destroyed by fire last fall. The antique show at the community center has brought hundreds of bargain hunters to town so the inn is booked solid. For the first time in a while, Erica has a real sense of well being. Then tragedy strikes Cal and Paula, skeletons are unearthed in the garden, a rapist stalks the town’s women, a guest is murdered and Joe disappears. As Erica’s life spins out of control, she finds herself once again surrounded by secrets, lies and deception. All she wants its the truth, but will it be too much for her to handle?
Vows of Silence

Written By: Carol A. Guy
Series: Spirit Lake #5
Published By: Devine Destinies
Heat Level:

Erica’s return to Spirit Lake is soon overshadowed by a series of shocking events that will alter the course...

Addie Goddard stared across the dining room table at her husband Charles, again struck by the sheer magnetism of the man. To say he was merely handsome did him a great disservice. Even though he’d just had his forty-first birthday, he was still as good looking as the day she’d met him twenty-one years ago.

She’d noticed a little gray at his temples the other day, but it didn’t detract from his appearance. His black hair, worn a little longer than she preferred, was still thickly luxuriant. He had finely chiseled features along with a strong jaw line.

He looked up from the roasted chicken, settling his cobalt blue gaze on her. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, Addie.”

Her eyes met his. He seemed a little apprehensive. She wasn’t surprised, considering. She forced a smile. “There’s a letter from George on the table in the foyer.” Their son, now twenty years of age, was a student at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

“I’ll read it later.” His voice had an edge. He took a deep breath, putting his fork on his plate. “Anna Mae won’t be home tonight?”

Addie bit back a sharp response. He knew the answer to that question. “No, she’s staying the night at the Hastings’ in town. She and Ruth are working on that school project.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“I took her in the carriage this afternoon while you were working in the den,” she added.

A look of irritation briefly crossed his flawless face. “I remember, Addie.” As though realizing he’d spoken too sharply, he smiled.

She felt her heart squeeze a little as it always did when Charles smiled at her. She’d often wondered why he’d married her in the first place.

Of course, they always marry the plain ones, don’t they? It’s the beautiful ones they have the affairs with.

She shook that thought from her mind, even though she knew it was true.

“How did your work go this afternoon?” She was trying to focus her mind on this evening, this moment, anything to keep from remembering what happened earlier. In a nervous gesture she ran her hand over her sleekly pulled back brown hair. Lackluster brown, that’s what her mother had called the long, thin tresses. “You remind me of a little sparrow,” she’d often said.

A sparrow. Nondescript, easily ignored, with my mousy brown hair and pale green eyes. Sometimes I felt invisible. Until Charles, that is. He made me feel vibrant, like a beautiful swan. At least for a while.

Charles was speaking. “….into town tonight later. This client won’t arrive until after eight but he wants to meet me at the office.”

Another client in town. Another late evening meeting. She should be used to it by now, but it still wrenched at her heart when she had to sit here pretending to believe the lie. Usually Charles’s affairs fizzled out quickly, leaving Addie with a certain sense of security, albeit an uneasy one.

“Let’s have coffee out on the porch,” Charles suggested as he rose from the table.

He was a tall muscular man who took pride in his appearance. He’d removed his suit coat, but still wore a white starched shirt and navy blue trousers. “It’s a warm evening, how about we row out onto the lake after we have our coffee. You can watch your precious mist rise off the water.” His tone lacked the light quality that usually accompanied any comment he made about her penchant for wanting to watch the mysterious fog rise each evening.

Their housekeeper, Mrs. Fitzgerald, came into the dining room to clear the table. Addie said to her, “We’ll have coffee on the porch. Then you can leave as soon as you’re finished with the dinner dishes. We won’t need you any longer tonight.”

The woman nodded as she began gathering up the plates, cups and silverware. Addie followed Charles outside.

The house, sitting on a hill just outside of Spirit Lake, was a three story Georgian style structure with one peculiarity. Instead of a portico, which was usually part of such architecture, it had a generous wrap around front porch. Addie stood for a moment, looking at the rose garden to her left. It was mid-June. The bushes, some planted by Josephine Billings, wife of the original owner, others planted by Addie herself, were blooming. Their heady fragrance filled the air. She inhaled deeply.

Erica’s return to Spirit Lake is soon overshadowed by a series of shocking events that will alter the course of her life forever.
It is a steamy summer in Spirit Lake. After a year away, during which her father, Harold, died of a heart attack, Erica returns with her daughter, Joanna, and her mother, Diane, in tow. The reason for her return is twofold: Jake Lakota has planned a memorial service for his brother, Joe. Also, Erica plans to sell her half of the inn to her friend and partner, Paula, after which she will return to Florida with Diane and Joanna. Soon, however, it becomes apparent that this plan will not unfold as expected, since things are in turmoil at the inn. It seems that the casino will be built across the lake after all. Also, the ghost in the basement continues to terrorize any who venture near the wine cellar.
Murder and deceit and deadly secrets are the order of the day as the town of Spirit Lake prepares for its annual July Fourth Founders’ Day celebration. In the midst of it all, Erica is blindsided by unexpected events that her turn world upside down.