It turns out there was more to Ivy’s death than a simple swan dive off the dock at low tide. Ivy's eccentric granddaughter, Pamella Brewton, will pay big bucks if Tipsy can figure out how to free her moody, volatile Meemaw. Ivy More has been haunting a Sullivan's Island cottage since the 1940s. A series of sudden financial and personal setbacks leave her feeling like she's back to square one, until a new friendship offers unexpected financial salvation. Tipsy plans to return to her lifelong habit of ignoring restless spirits. Mercurial phantom Henry Mott still haunts her house, but he’s become a dear friend. She’s rebuilding her artistic career and co-parenting with her ornery ex-husband. She’s solved a century-old murder mystery and brought peace to her house. Looking for a funny, feel-good holiday romp with a bit of mystery? This is the one.Ĭlairvoyant single mom Tipsy Collins is easing into a post-divorce new normal. What's that about? As the retreat fills to capacity, strangers become family as they come together for a Haint Blue Christmas. And odd little gifts keeping showing up and disappearing. Do you have space to exercise them?" "We're the Lame Brain Zombie LARPers.party of seven, do you have a cabin?" "My client wants privacy." The calls keep coming. I know business has been slow, and I was wondering, you gonna be open for the holidays?" "We're travelling with alpacas. She's got this hairbrained notion to get the family together. Listen, my sister Nellavon thinks I'm dying. We were wondering if you had a few cabins?" "Haint? Max. Sometimes it works and then suddenly nada.
As the 25th approaches, the phone calls begin. Get your holiday cookbooks out, sweetheart." Surely not. The dream tells me that you need to stock your pantry you're going to be a busy hostess this Christmas. Some weird nursery rhyme repeated 'the larder was bare, the larder was bare'. You were wringing your hands in a red apron.
There was a bright Christmas tree.children laughing.an empty deep freezer in a garage. But before she can make a motel reservation, psychic Aunt Moira calls. Why not slip off to the beach? She can almost taste the fish tacos and fried shrimp. Her relationship with Buster is in limbo. It looks like she'll be alone for Christmas.
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