Prologue

The sun threw a last golden glow across the horizon of Lake Superior. From her vantage point about five miles from Eagle Island, Suzanne Baxter could see nothing but the cold, clear waters of the big lake known as Gitchee Gumee.
    She leaned against the railing of the forty-foot yacht and lifted her face to the breeze. Her husband, Mason joined her.
    "I'm glad we came," she said, turning to slip her arms around his still-trim body, Even at fifty-four, he could still make her heart race like a teenager's. They'd come through so much over the years.
    He dropped a kiss on top of her head. "Me, too. It was time to make amends."
    She bristled. "You mean to let them make amends. You didn't do anything."