“That’s what happens when you buy fireworks from a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who sells fake fireworks to suckers.” Macon swiped more of her fries while she glared at Nash. “Then there were the sharks.”

Bristol let out a huff of frustration as she curled her arms around her red plastic basket of fries and pulled it in close. “Come on, that is never going to happen again. An entire group of sharks just hang out on your strip of beach for a week, twice in one lifetime? Not gonna repeat.”

“It’s a shiver,” Griff said, speaking up for the first time since Bristol had brought up the idea of a Come As You Aren’t trip to Vegas and started trying to get Morgan to agree to spend one weekend in Sin City as someone—anyone—besides herself.

The whole table went silent, and everyone—including Dixon, who stopped giving his phone screen I’m-so-in-love cow eyes long enough to look up—stared at Griff. Seemingly oblivious to the stares, or more likely way too used to them, the usually silent, gruff cousin kept on dipping his fries into his chocolate milkshake before eating them.

After a few seconds, Griff’s sister Morgan spoke up. “What’s a shiver?”

“A group of sharks is a shiver,” he said. “Don’t forget the beach house haunting.”

If Gable House was a quirky lake house with shrubs trimmed to look like geese, not to mention a real-life attack goose, then the family beach house was a creepy Gilded Age fear fest. It looked exactly like the location for a horror movie.

“Oh, come on,” Bristol said, gathering up the few fries that hadn’t been stolen from her basket. “That was Grandma Betty being Grandma Betty.”

It was true. The woman always had a plot or a plan to stir things up.

“Could you imagine the amount of effort it took to set up that prank?” Nash said. “She had every corner of the beach house wired to set off ghostly encounters.” All of the cousins had gone from room to room, trying to unravel the mystery, never realizing that it had been their grandmother all along. He chuckled, his whole chest going warm at the memory of her laugh when she’d finally revealed herself Scooby Doo-style by ripping off a Mike Myers mask. “There was no one like Grandma Betty.”

Everyone nodded, silent for once in absolute agreement.

Nash raised his mint chocolate-chip milkshake. “To Grandma Betty.”

All the cousins lifted their milkshakes and toasted the woman they all missed and then started up the smack talk again about the Last Man Standing bet and speculation about what was in the present from their grandmother. The guesses were getting more and more ridiculous, when Dixon cleared his throat and shot Nash a pointed look. Nash braced himself for whatever was coming next.