The Cousins by Karen M. McManus (review)

It begins in the time-honored way so many thrillers do: with an invitation from a wealthy stranger to gather at the family mansion. The invitees are a trio of teenaged cousins, and the stranger is their grandmother, whom none has ever met. Their parents are anxious for them to attend, though, convinced that the matriarch is ready to make peace with—and possible endowments to?—to the offspring of the children she disinherited decades ago. Each cousin has a private reason for taking up Grandmother Story’s offer of summer employment at Gull Cove Resort, but at their first meeting with the grande dame they sense that she is baffled by their presence and willing to meet only at an icy, perfunctory private gathering. If that isn’t enough to fire their curiosity, a string of ensuing revelations will be: one of the cousins is not, in fact, a cousin; the grandmother did not send the invitation; the resort’s boozy bartender knows one heckuva lot about the family; the town doctor’s drowning was no accident. Gorgeous, sassy Milly; grounded, Daddy-loathing Aubrey; and mysterious cousin stand-in Jonah are plumply fleshed tropes that keep readers invested, and McManus conscientiously adheres to that high standard of whodunnit writing—slyly planted clues must lead, however labyrinthinely, to a logical conclusion. Then when characters are unmasked, a fiery climax ensues, and justice is satisfyingly done.