“Summerset,” Book 4 in the Harbor Secret Series, set in Northern Michigan’s very own Harbor Springs, is now available in audiobook format! Now you can listen as you drive, exercise, paint, clean, or do yard work! This is historical fiction and romance based on the true, unsolved murder of the Robison family in Good Hart.
All four books, “The Tunnels,” “Devil’s Elbow,” “Leviathan,” and “Summerset” are all available in paperback, ebook, and audiobook formats. All are based on true pieces of Harbor Springs’ history and can be found on Amazon.
Shortly after moving to California, a friend and I went on a day trip to The Mission Inn. We signed up for the two-hour walking tour and learned all about its history.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with The Mission Inn, it began as a twelve-room boarding house in 1876. Under the direction of the family’s eldest son, it morphed into the grand hotel that it is today. Designed in the Spanish Colonial style architecture, the first new wing opened in 1903. Over the next thirty years, additional wings were added, each with their own style. There was the Cloister Wing, the Spanish Wing, and the Rotunda Wing. Soon an Asian wing was added with its own courtyard. The building also contains towers, domes, buttresses, and arcades. The owner filled the hotel with antiques acquired during his travels around the world. Eventually, the building grew to take up an entire city block.
Many famous people have stayed at The Mission Inn ranging from celebrities like Judy Garland and Clark Gable to presidents to Albert Einstein. Richard Nixon married his wife there, and Ronald Regan honeymooned at The Mission Inn.
Untrue to its name, the hotel was never a mission, and there were never bodies in the catacombs that run underneath the hotel. Yes, I said “catacombs.” Cool, huh? Word has it that the original owner hung his art in the catacombs and had guests wander the tunnels, viewing art in the summer months to stay cool.
The part of the tour that really caught my attention was called Author’s Row. Author’s Row is a series of rooms topped with castle-like turrets that many famous authors have stayed in, most notably Helen Hunt Jackson, who wrote Ramona. Some authors wrote entire books there, and others just visited. Right then and there, I added “Stay in Author’s Row at The Mission Inn” to my goal list.
Since our goals guide us through life, I actively review my goal list, trying to figure out how to achieve what I want. So, one rainy, chilly November weekend, I traveled to The Mission Inn, my reservation for a room on Author’s Row almost assured. Yes, oddly, they could not guarantee me a room on Author’s Row even though I specifically requested it and told them that was the whole point of my visit. Weird, I know. So I drove to Riverside to take a gamble.
Fortunately, my gamble paid off. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite the room I’d envisioned. The room had an unusually-shaped painted brick on the walls. There was a desk that faced the wall, not the window I’d envisioned myself sitting at and writing as if I was the Carrie Bradshaw of The Mission Inn; and there was an electric fireplace that I immediately turned on. I wasn’t sure how other authors found this setting inspirational, but I settled in to try to pick up some author mojo.
Upon passing the neighboring room that evening, I couldn’t help but glance through the open curtains. This room was at the end of Author’s Row and was much more the place of inspiration that I had envisioned. It was like a little castle! There were pillars and arches inside. There was a winding staircase going to a second floor. The furniture was plush and looked super comfy. Even though I really didn’t need a 1,200 square foot hotel room, I kind of thought I’d be getting something more along the line of what was called The Alhambra Suite.
The bad thing about getting a room in a cool spot at the hotel is that tourists would walk by day and night, trying to peer through my large, stained glass window that overlooked the courtyard and restaurant below. Creepy.
My room was close to a winding exterior staircase that led down to the hotel’s church. It was closed for Covid, but, fortunately, I’d seen it on the tour I’d taken earlier. This is not some tiny, rustic church, this is one of those work-of-art churches, and I would recommend making sure you check if out if you visit the Mission Inn.
Harnessing the writing mojo vibes I picked up from my room and surrounding rooms, I set out to get something accomplished, taking breaks to explore or dine in the courtyard or venture out to a little French restaurant at night.
Determined to find the infamous catacombs, I inquired about them at the front desk. I was informed they were closed, but a security person might be able to take me down there. Following directions from the front desk, I ventured outside the hotel, walked around to the back, and found a door to the security office.
The unfriendly security person ignored me for a good five minutes as I waited patiently for him to get off the phone and make notes. When I told him I was looking for the catacombs, he quickly shut down my dream, telling me they were closed due to cracks and water that led to safety concerns. When I asked if he would take me there, I was again shut down. When I asked where the entrance was, he gave me the vague answer of, “Near the HR offices.” When I asked where the HR offices were located, he refused to tell me. Oy! Apparently, I had no flirt left in my game because this was like pulling teeth.
As I left the security office, I could feel the man’s eyes follow me. When I looked back, I saw him pick up the phone, and my intuition told me he was calling the front desk to alert them to my shenanigans. That’s okay, I wasn’t one to give up because some grouchy guy wouldn’t give me some information. I’d wait until the next day, when not only different staff would be at the front desk but the weekend would be over, and the majority of guests would have left for home.
The next morning, after an amazing breakfast in the hotel’s courtyard, I approached the front desk and asked where the HR offices were. Tricky, huh? I got a few directions and a point. Easy-peasy, as my friend would say. True to my gut feeling, the HR offices were right where I thought they would be. They were next to some statues in the basement that framed a door with a sign on it. The sign read “Renovations In Progress.” Since the sign did not say “Keep Out,” I took a quick glance around, opened the door, and stepped in. Yes, I do realize the sign was a nicer way of telling people to “Keep Out,” but I had them on a technicality that I felt would hold up in court.
With a racing heart, I stepped into a narrow hallway, turned to the left, then the right, and then the right again as I followed it in a C shape. At the end of the C was another door. My heart was racing as I was pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to be down here, and I’m not usually a rule-breaker. The grouchy security person with an immunity to my flirting skills flashed through my mind. I imagined him grabbing me by the collar, lifting me up, and carrying me out like a puppy who had gone astray.
I took a deep breath and started towards the door at the end of the C-shaped hall that I was sure would lead to the underground catacombs and something, I wasn’t sure what, of great interest. “Step, step, step” went my feet until I heard a door slam and a “step, step, step” that didn’t belong to me. Someone else was down in the C-shaped hall with me. Crap. Now my heart was really racing as I glanced around for a place to hide. My options were a luggage cart and – well, that was it. Double crap. What if it was the hard-arse security guard who had seen me on hidden cameras? What if I got kicked out of the hotel? What if — I lost my train of thought as I heard the jingling of keys and footsteps coming towards me.
Having no hiding place, my only option was to use my acting skills. Boldly, I turned to face the oncoming employee in their black and white uniform. As I strode confidently down the hall and passed her, I looked the employee straight in the eye and said a friendly, “Hi.” My greeting was returned without question, and I glided past her to the entrance door, turned the handle, and stepped out. The second I was out, I heard a key turn in the lock behind me. The door was locked. There would be no return exploration trip…until my next visit.
Staying at the historic hotel was a special treat, and I did get a lot accomplished. As I checked out, the staff were busy putting up Christmas lights for their famous Festival of Lights that drew crowds from near and far. Next to the front desk, two chefs worked on assembling a life-sized gingerbread house that included siding made from giant, homemade graham crackers coated in cinnamon. The scent filled the lobby as the men attached the siding cracker shingles with giant hot glue guns.
Behind me, photos of presidents who had stayed at the inn lined an entire wall of the lobby. Tours, most of the spa offerings, and two of the Inn’s three restaurants were shut down due to Covid, but that didn’t stop visitors from happily buzzing about.
Taking my rolling bag and stepping from the front desk, I inhaled the cinnamon scent and smiled. Yes, I would be back; and, next time, I’d stay in the Alhambra Suite. There may even be another exploratory trip to the catacombs.
Happy exploring!
Summerset, Book 4 in the Harbor Secret Series, is now available on Amazon in paperback and e-book. The audiobook will be available at the end of July! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B097KQ8ZBJ
Harbor Springs, the epitome of purity, innocence, and safety, forever lost that image when, in 1968, a family was brutally murdered in their summer home. To this day, the Sheriff’s Office classifies this as a cold case, and the Prosecutor refuses to close the file. Nearly every year-round resident has a different theory as to who committed the crime that has been featured on TV shows, web sites, podcasts, YouTube, and in numerous books. Now, upon the fiftieth anniversary of the unsolved mystery, Kylie, Jason, and Cupcake set out to discover the truth.
Inspired by a true story.
“Summerset” is now available in an e-book format on Amazon! I’m hoping the hard copy will also be available this week. Below is the link.
Good morning! As you may have heard, the initial drafts of Summerset, Book 4 in the Harbor Secret Series, have been completed. I hope to have the book available for purchase in the next couple of weeks! Below, I’ve included Chapter 1 from the new book for your reading enjoyment. I’m excited to join Kylie, Jason, and Cupcake on another adventure!
CHAPTER 1
Kylie Branson sat at the desk in her cupcake shop, licking the frosting of a cupcake from her fingers. The Harbor Light newspaper lay spread on the desk in front of her. Her eyes moved from the left page to the right and then focused in on a photo of a family from the 1960s. She saw a mother, father, three boys, and a little girl who sat in the front and center of the group. Kylie leaned forward and studied the black-and-white photo before reading the title of the article. “Fiftieth Anniversary of the Robison Family Murders.” She skimmed parts of the article, mumbling to herself. “Entire family brutally murdered…bodies not discovered for weeks…unsolved mystery for fifty years.”
As she drew in a little gasp, Kylie’s hand moved over her mouth before her eyes moved up to the photo of the family again. She ran her fingertip lightly over the image of the little girl. “I’ll bet you were the apple of everyone’s eye.” Kylie looked at the boys and then the pretty mother. “You probably kept trying until you got your little girl,” she whispered as she studied the photo of the doomed family. Finally, Kylie leaned back, crossed her arms, and began to read the article. She was only a few lines in when the bell on the front door jingled. She looked up to see a pretty, blonde woman in her fifties enter and look around thoughtfully.
Tossing the cupcake wrapper in the garbage, she gave the large, black pit-mix dog lying on the floor a quick pat on the head. “You stay here, Cuppie.” Cupcake lifted her head. “Stay and be good,” Kylie repeated the command. Cupcake let out a groan and dropped her head back onto her paws. Kylie stepped over the baby gate that barricaded the office from the rest of the shop. “Good girl,” she whispered to the dog before stepping away.
“Good morning,” she greeted the woman cheerfully.
“Hi,” the woman said lightly, her eyes landing on Kylie and taking her in.
“Can I get you something?” Kylie asked.
The woman looked Kylie up and down, studying the owner of the only cupcake shop in Harbor Springs. “Huh?” she asked distractedly.
An uncomfortable, intuitive twinge pinched Kylie’s stomach. “Can I get you something? A cupcake?”
“Oh,” the woman said, moving her gaze from Kylie to the display case. “You make cupcakes?” she asked in a voice that hinted of a French accent.
Kylie’s eyes moved to the side and then back before answering slowly. “Yes. It’s a cupcake shop.”
The woman looked around again as if just realizing that fact. “Oh. Um, yes, I guess.”
Kylie watched from behind the display as the thin, blonde woman with a high ponytail appeared almost confused. Kylie decided to help her out. “Do you have any particular flavor in mind?”
The woman’s eyes read the flavors. “Black Cherry Pecan, Love Spell, Harbor Hummer?”
“That one is flavored like that ice cream drink called a Hummer,” Kylie volunteered proudly. “It’s my boyfriend’s favorite.”
“You have a boyfriend?”
Kylie held up her left hand. “Fiancé, actually.”
The woman leaned to look at the square-cut diamond. “Wow, that’s quite a ring.”
“He’s quite a guy.”
The woman looked at her again. “I’m sure.”
Kylie felt the odd twinge of her intuition again and cleared her throat. “So what can I get you?”
The woman didn’t look away from Kylie but said, “Oh, I don’t know. How about just a chocolate one?” She gestured with her hand to indicate that she really didn’t care about the flavor as long as she got a cupcake.
“Er, we don’t have plain chocolate.”
“No chocolate?”
“I like people to expect the unexpected. You can get plain chocolate at the grocery store,” Kylie repeated her mantra that was also a bit of a mission statement.
“I suppose so,” the woman said, still looking at Kylie. “You’re very pretty, you know.”
Kylie placed her hand on her abdomen to cover the nagging feeling that grew stronger each time she felt it. “Thank you.”
Finally breaking her gaze as well as the awkward moment, the woman said dismissively, “Oh, just give me that Hummer cupcake that your fiancé likes.”
The woman pushed some loose strands from her ponytail behind an ear, and Kylie hesitated for a moment studying her. “Do I know you?”
A faint smile darted across the woman’s mouth but quickly disappeared. “If you have to ask, then probably not.”
“Yeah, probably not,” Kylie said, dismissing the idea and leaning to remove the cupcake from the display case. “Do you need a box?”
The woman seemed confused almost to the point of being disoriented as her eyes looked around the shop for help before answering the simple question. “For what?”
“For the cupcake.” She held the delicacy up as if to remind the customer.
“Oh, no. I’ll just eat it on the way.” She dug into her purse and produced some dollar bills, laying them on the counter.
“Exact change. I love it,” Kylie said cheerfully. “Have a great day!”
The woman took the cupcake and stepped towards the door. Pulling the screen door open, she turned back and said, “I really like your shop. It’s,” she thought for a moment, searching for the right word, “quaint.” She flashed a weak smile that triggered a childhood memory for Kylie.
“Are you sure we haven’t met?”
The woman just widened her dimpled smile and drifted out the door.
Kylie tapped her index finger on her chin thoughtfully. “Where have I seen you before? Hmm.” She slid the display case door closed and returned to the open newspaper in her office. Cupcake lifted her head in greeting, and Kylie gave it a pat. “Good girl, Cuppie.”
Kylie sat down at her desk and refocused on the photo of the ill-fated family in the newspaper. Her eyes focused in on the woman in the classic suit who stared back at Kylie with sad eyes. Kylie’s gaze went from the woman in the newspaper and back to the closed screen door before the realization hit her, and she asked out loud, “Mom?”
Jumping up from the office chair, she leaped over the baby gate, ran around the display case, and out the front door of the gingerbread house that served as her shop in downtown Harbor Springs, Michigan. Running to the end of the whimsically-curved pathway, she looked up and down the street before softly calling, “Mommy?” A few summer tourists passing by slowed their walk to look at her as she looked frantically up and down the short block.
Feeling beads of sweat on her chest, she turned right and ran down to Main Street where a few early-morning dog-walkers and joggers made their way up and down the street of shops that had kept their original style from the previous century. Kylie looked both directions before resting her eyes on the cold, blue water at the end of the street and then Petoskey on the other side of the bay. “Mommy,” she whispered.
Kylie stood there, staring at the sparkling water of the bay for moments until she felt two hands on her waist followed by a whiskery kiss on her cheek. “Good morning, Sunshine. Is today the day?” He asked the question daily that Kylie had been avoiding answering.
Kylie continued to stare ahead while giving her head a small shake, indicating her answer to his question.
The man behind her snuggled his face into her neck for a moment before realizing something was wrong. Pulling back, he stepped to her side and turned her to him. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?” When Kylie didn’t respond, he continued. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Kylie moved her eyes up the strong, uniform-covered chest, onto the stubbly cheeks, and then to the brown eyes of her fiancé, local fire chief Jason Lange. “Jason, I think I just saw my mother.”