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The cousins /

By: Material type: TextTextPublisher: New York : Delacorte Press, [2020]Copyright date: 2020Edition: First editionDescription: 325 pages : geneological table ; 22 cmContent type:
  • text
Media type:
  • unmediated
Carrier type:
  • volume
ISBN:
  • 9780525708001
  • 0525708006
  • 9780525708018
  • 0525708014
  • 9780525708032
  • 0525708030
Subject(s): Genre/Form: DDC classification:
  • 813/.6 23
  • [Fic] 23
LOC classification:
  • PZ7.1.M4637 Co 2020
  • PS3613.M437 C68 2020
Summary: After receiving an invitation to spend the summer with their estranged grandmother, the Story cousins arrive at her house only to discover that she is not there, and the longer they stay on the island, the more they realize their mysterious family history has some deadly secrets.
List(s) this item appears in: 2021 YALSA Best Fiction for YA | YA to Keep you up at night
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Standard Loan Coeur d'Alene Library Young Adult Fiction Coeur d'Alene Library Book YA MCMANUS (Browse shelf(Opens below)) 1 Available 50610024090297
Standard Loan Coeur d'Alene Library Young Adult Fiction Coeur d'Alene Library Book YA MCMANUS (Browse shelf(Opens below)) 1 Available 50610022769504
Standard Loan Kellogg Library Young Adult Fiction Kellogg Library Book MCMANNUS (Browse shelf(Opens below)) 1 Checked out 04/15/2024 50610022115427
Standard Loan Liberty Lake Library Young Adult Fiction Liberty Lake Library Book YA MCMANUS (Browse shelf(Opens below)) Available 31421000668690
Standard Loan Newport Library Young Adult Fiction Newport Library Book YA MCMANUS (Browse shelf(Opens below)) Available 50610021186379
Standard Loan Priest River Library Young Adult Fiction Priest River Library Book YA MCMANUS (Browse shelf(Opens below)) 1 Available 50610021866483
Standard Loan St Maries Library Young Adult Fiction St Maries Library Book MCMANUS (Browse shelf(Opens below)) 1 Available 50610022554971
Standard Loan Wallace Junior/Senior High School Library Mystery Wallace Junior/Senior High School Library Book MCMANUS/AR 5.3 (Browse shelf(Opens below)) 1 Available 50610013185280
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Enhanced descriptions from Syndetics:

#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER * From the bestselling author of One of Us Is Lying comes your next obsession. You'll never feel the same about family again.

Milly, Aubrey, and Jonah Story are cousins, but they barely know each another, and they've never even met their grandmother. Rich and reclusive, she disinherited their parents before they were born. So when they each receive a letter inviting them to work at her island resort for the summer, they're surprised . . . and curious.

Their parents are all clear on one point--not going is not an option. This could be the opportunity to get back into Grandmother's good graces. But when the cousins arrive on the island, it's immediately clear that she has different plans for them. And the longer they stay, the more they realize how mysterious--and dark--their family's past is.

The entire Story family has secrets. Whatever pulled them apart years ago isn't over--and this summer, the cousins will learn everything.

Fans of the hit thriller that started it all can watch the secrets of the Bayview Four be revealed in the One of Us is Lying TV series now streaming on NBC's Peacock!

After receiving an invitation to spend the summer with their estranged grandmother, the Story cousins arrive at her house only to discover that she is not there, and the longer they stay on the island, the more they realize their mysterious family history has some deadly secrets.

Ages 14 & Up. Delacorte Press.

Grades 10-12. Delacorte Press.

Excerpt provided by Syndetics

Chapter One  Milly   I'm late for dinner again, but this time it's not my fault. There's a mansplainer in my way.   "Mildred? That's a grandmother's name. But not even a cool grandmother." He says it like he thinks he's being clever. Like in all my seventeen years, no one else has ever noticed that my name isn't the fashionable kind of classic. It took a Wall Street investment banker with slicked-back hair and a pinkie ring to render that particular bit of social commentary.   I sip the dregs of my seltzer. "I was, in fact, named after my grandmother," I say.   I'm at a steak house in midtown at six o'clock on a rainy April evening, doing my best to blend with the happy hour crowd. It's a game my friends and I play sometimes; we go to restaurant bars so we don't have to worry about getting carded at the door. We wear our simplest dresses and extra makeup. We order seltzer water with lime--"in a small glass, please, I'm not that thirsty"--and gulp it down until there's almost nothing left. Then we wait to see if anyone offers to buy us a drink.   Somebody always does.   Pinkie Ring smiles, his teeth almost fluorescent in the dim light. He must take his whitening regimen very seriously. "I like it. Quite a contrast for such a beautiful young woman." He edges closer, and I catch a headache-inducing whiff of strong cologne. "You have a very interesting look. Where are you from?"   Ugh. That's marginally better than the What are you? question I get sometimes, but still gross. "New York," I say pointedly. "You?"   "I mean originally," he clarifies, and that's it. I'm done.   "New York," I repeat, and stand up from my stool. It's just as well he didn't talk to me until I was about to leave, because a cocktail before dinner wasn't one of my better ideas. I catch my friend Chloe's eye across the room and wave good-bye, but before I can extract myself, Pinkie Ring tips his glass toward mine. "Can I get you another of whatever that is?"   "No thank you. I'm meeting someone."   He pulls back, brow furrowed. Very furrowed. In a behind-on-his-Botox sort of way. He also has creases lining his cheeks and crinkles around his eyes. He's way too old to be hitting on me, even if I were the college student I occasionally pretend to be. "What are you wasting my time for, then?" he grunts, his gaze already roving over my shoulder.   Chloe likes the happy hour game because, she says, high school boys are immature. Which is true. But sometimes I think we might be better off not knowing how much worse they can get.   I pluck the lime out of my drink and squeeze it. I'm not aiming for his eye, exactly, but I'm still a little disappointed when the juice spatters only his collar. "Sorry," I say sweetly, dropping the lime into the glass and setting it on the bar. "Normally I wouldn't bother. But it's so dark in here. When you first came over, I thought you were my dad."   As if. My dad is way better-looking, and also: not a creep. Pinkie Ring's mouth drops open, but I scoot past him and out the door before he can reply.   The restaurant I'm going to is just across the street, and the hostess smiles when I come through the door. "Can I help you?"   "I'm meeting someone for dinner? Allison?"   Her gaze drops to the book in front of her and a small crease appears between her eyes. "I'm not seeing--"   "Story-Takahashi?" I try. My parents have an unusually amicable divorce, and Exhibit A is that Mom continues to use both last names. "Well, it's still your name," she'd said four years ago when the divorce was finalized. "And I've gotten used to it."   The crease between the hostess's eyes deepens. "I don't see that either."   "Just Story, then?" I try. "Like in a book?"   Her brow clears. "Oh! Yes, there you are. Right this way."   She grabs two menus and winds her way between white-covered tables until we reach a corner booth. The wall beside it is mirrored, and the woman sitting on one side is sipping a glass of white wine while surreptitiously checking out her reflection, smoothing flyaways in her dark bun that only she can see.   I drop into the seat across from her as the hostess places oversized red menus in front of us. "So it's Story tonight?" I ask.   My mother waits until the hostess leaves to answer. "I wasn't in the mood to repeat myself," she sighs, and I raise a brow. Mom usually makes a point of pushing back on anyone who acts like they can't figure out how to spell or pronounce Dad's Japanese last name.   "Why?" I ask, even though I know she won't tell me. There are multiple levels of Milly criticism to get through first.   She puts her glass down, causing almost a dozen gold bangles to jingle on her wrist. My mother is vice president of public relations for a jewelry company, and wearing the season's must-haves is one of the perks of her job. She eyes me up and down, taking in my heavier-than-usual makeup and navy sheath. "Where are you coming from that you're so dressed up?"   The bar across the street. "A gallery thing with Chloe," I lie. Chloe's mother owns an art gallery uptown, and our friends spend a lot of time there. Allegedly.   Mom picks up her glass again. Sips, flicks her eyes toward the mirror, pats her hair. When it's down it falls in dark waves, but, as she likes to tell me, pregnancy changed its texture from smooth to coarse. I'm pretty sure she's never forgiven me for that. "I thought you were studying for finals."   "I was. Before."   Her knuckles turn white around the glass, and I wait for it. Milly, you cannot exit your junior year with less than a B average. You're on the cusp of mediocrity, and your father and I have invested far too much for you to waste your opportunity like that.   If I were even a little musically inclined, I'd start a band called Cusp of Mediocrity in honor of Mom's favorite warning. I've been hearing some version of that speech for three years. Prescott Academy churns out Ivy League students like some kind of blue-blood factory, and it's the bane of my mother's existence that I'm always ranked solidly in the bottom half of my class.   The lecture doesn't come, though. Instead, Mom reaches out her free hand and pats mine. Stiffly, like she's a marionette with a novice handler. "Well, you look very pretty."   Instantly, I'm on the defensive. It's strange enough that my mother wanted to meet me for dinner, but she never compliments me. Or touches me. All of this suddenly feels like a setup for something I'd rather not hear. "Are you sick?" I blurt out. "Is Dad?"   She blinks and withdraws her hand. "What? No! Why would you ask that?"   "Then why--" I break off as a smiling server appears beside the table, filling our water glasses from a silver pitcher.   "And how are you ladies this evening? Can I tell you about our specials?"   I study Mom covertly over the top of my menu as the server rattles them off. She's definitely tense, still clutching her near-empty wineglass in a death grip, but I realize now that I was wrong to expect bad news. Her dark-blue eyes are bright, and the corners of her mouth are almost turned up. She's anticipating something, not dreading it. I try to imagine what might make my mother happy besides me magically A-plussing my way to valedictorian at Prescott Academy.   Money. That's all it could be. Mom's life revolves around it--or more specifically, around not having enough of it. My parents both have good jobs, and my dad, despite being remarried, has always been generous with child support. His new wife, Surya, is the total opposite of a wicked stepmother in all possible ways, including finances. She's never begrudged Mom the big checks he sends every month.   But good doesn't cut it when you're trying to keep up in Manhattan. And it's not what my mother grew up with.   A job promotion, I decide. That must be it. Which is excellent news, except for the part where she's going to remind me that she got it through hard work and oh, by the way, why can't I work harder at literally everything.   "I'll have the Caesar salad with chicken. No anchovies, dressing on the side," Mom says, handing her menu to the server without really looking at him. "And another glass of the Langlois-Chateau, please."   "Very good. And the young lady?"   "Bone-in rib eye, medium rare, and a jumbo baked potato," I tell him. I might as well get a good meal out of whatever's about to go down.   When he leaves, my mother drains her wineglass and I gulp my water. My bladder's already full from the seltzer at the bar, and I'm about to excuse myself for the restroom when Mom says, "I got the most interesting letter today."   There it is. "Oh?" I wait, but when she doesn't continue, I prod, "From who?"   "Whom," she corrects automatically. Her fingers trace the base of her glass as her lips curve up another half notch. "From your grandmother."   I blink at her. "From Baba?" Why that merits this kind of buildup, I have no idea. Granted, my grandmother doesn't contact Mom often, but it's not unprecedented. Baba is the type of person who likes to forward articles she's read to anyone she thinks might be interested, and she still does that with Mom postdivorce.   "No. Your other grandmother."   "What?" Now I'm truly confused. "You got a letter from--Mildred?"   I don't have a nickname for my mother's mother. She's not Grandma or Mimi or Nana or anything to me, because I've never met her.   "I did." The server returns with Mom's wine, and she takes a long, grateful sip. I sit in silence, unable to wrap my head around what she just told me. My maternal grandmother loomed large over my childhood, but as more of a fairy-tale figure than an actual person: the wealthy widow of Abraham Story, whose great-something-grandfather came over on the Mayflower. My ancestors are more interesting than any history book: the family made a fortune in whaling, lost most of it in railroad stocks, and eventually sank what was left into buying up real estate on a crappy little island off the coast of Massachusetts.   Gull Cove Island was a little-known haven for artists and hippies until Abraham Story turned it into what it is today: a place where rich and semifamous people spend ridiculous amounts of money pretending they're getting back to nature.   My mother and her three brothers grew up on a giant beachfront estate named Catmint House, riding horses and attending black-tie parties like they were the princess and princes of Gull Cove Island. There's a picture on our apartment mantel of Mom when she was eighteen, stepping out of a limousine on her way to the Summer Gala her parents threw every year at their resort. Her hair is piled high, and she's wearing a white ball gown and a gorgeous diamond teardrop necklace. Mildred gave that necklace to my mother when she turned seventeen, and I used to think Mom would pass it along to me when I hit the same birthday.   Didn't happen. Even though Mom never wears it herself.   My grandfather died when Mom was a senior in high school. Two years later, Mildred disowned all of her children. She cut them off both financially and personally, with no explanation except for a single-sentence letter sent two weeks before Christmas through her lawyer, a man named Donald Camden who'd known Mom and her brothers their entire lives:   You know what you did.   Mom has always insisted that she has no clue what Mildred meant. "The four of us had gotten . . . selfish, I suppose," she'd tell me. "We were all in college then, starting our own lives. Mother was lonely with Father gone, and she begged us to visit all the time. But we didn't want to go." She calls her parents that, Mother and Father, like the heroine in a Victorian novel. "None of us came back for Thanksgiving that year. We'd all made other plans. She was furious, but . . ." Mom always got a pensive, faraway look on her face then. "That's such a small thing. Hardly unforgivable."   If Abraham Story hadn't set up educational trusts for Mom and her brothers, they might not have graduated college. Once they did, though, they were on their own. At first, they regularly tried to reestablish contact with Mildred. They hounded Donald Camden, whose only response was the occasional email reiterating her decision. They sent invitations to their weddings, and announcements when their kids were born. They even took turns showing up on Gull Cove Island, where my grandmother still lives, but she would never see or speak to them. I used to imagine that one day she'd waltz into our apartment, dripping diamonds and furs, and announce that she'd come for me, her namesake. She'd whisk me to a toy store and let me buy whatever I wanted, then hand me a sack of money to bring home to my parents.   I'm pretty sure my mother had the same fantasy. Why else would you saddle a twenty-first-century girl with a name like Mildred? But my grandmother, with the help of Donald Camden, stonewalled her children at every turn. Eventually, they stopped trying.   Mom is looking at me expectantly, and I realize she's waiting for an answer. "You got a letter from Mildred?" I ask.   She nods, then clears her throat before answering. "Well. To be more precise, you did."   "I did?" My vocabulary has shrunk to almost nothing in the past five minutes.   "The envelope was addressed to me, but the letter was for you."   A decade-old image pops into my head: me with my long-lost grandmother, filling a shopping cart to the rim with stuffed animals while dressed like we're going to the opera. Tiaras and all. I push the thought aside and grope for more words. "Is she . . . Does she . . . Why?"   My mother reaches into her purse and pulls out an envelope, then pushes it across the table toward me. "Maybe you should just read it."   I lift the flap and pull out a folded sheet of thick, cream-colored paper that smells faintly of lilac. The top is engraved with the initials MMS--Mildred Margaret Story. Our names are almost exactly the same, except mine has Takahashi at the end. The short paragraphs are typewritten, followed by a cramped, spidery signature. Excerpted from The Cousins by Karen M. McManus All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

Reviews provided by Syndetics

Publishers Weekly Review

McManus (One of Us Is Lying) once again crafts a taut, multilayered mystery, this time focusing on the fallout of family estrangement on the next generation. When Mildred "Milly" Story-Takahashi is summoned to a dinner with her mother, she expects bad news, not a mysterious invitation to work at her wealthy maternal grandmother's resort on Gull Cove Island. Milly and her cousins Jonah and Aubrey will be the first Storys to be welcomed back after a 24-year estrangement that their abruptly disinherited parents claim not to understand--one that began with a lawyer's note stating "You know what you did." Forced to spend the summer on Gull Cove Island, the cousins are startled to find both that they were not, after all, expected and that at least one party wants them gone. As the three piece together what happened to their family, they begin to reveal their own secrets as well. Narrating her thriller through multiple perspectives that encompass both generations of Storys, McManus weaves past and present to take readers on a well-paced, twisty ride that will hold readers rapt till the last page. Ages 14--up. Agent: Rosemary Stimola, Stimola Literary Studio. (Dec.)

School Library Journal Review

Gr 9 Up--Three teenage cousins who have met only on a few occasions are asked by their estranged grandmother to work for a summer at her exclusive island resort. Years before, their grandmother cut off contact with and disinherited their parents without notice. The last words given through the grandmother's lawyer to her own children were, "You know what you did." Their parents each insist that the cousins attempt ingratiate themselves with the family matriarch. From the beginning, all is not as it seems. Lies upon lies pile up as the three cousins slowly unravel the truth behind their family's true inheritance: secrets. Though this winding plot will enthrall mystery lovers, the lack of real jeopardy and poorly foreshadowed plot twists take away from the intensity of a thriller. A predictable and unsatisfying resolution detracts from the strength of the piece--interesting and multifaceted main characters. Though narrators Sarah Skaer, Kate Reinders, David Garelik, and Julia Whelan provide excellent performances individually, they are not significantly different in tone. At times the readers' cadences and the writing style of the characters are so similar that listeners may not realize which character is speaking. VERDICT This is a supplementary purchase for libraries with young adults clamoring for more suspense like One of Us Is Lying.--Lisa Youngblood, Harker Heights P.L., TX

Booklist Review

Before Milly Takahashi-Story, Aubrey Story, and Jonah Story were born, their obscenely wealthy grandmother Mildred disinherited their parents, for reasons none of them will discuss. The three cousins have never met their grandmother, and they barely know one another. When the three teenagers are invited to work at her Martha's Vineyard--esque island resort for the summer, their parents are thrilled, but Milly, Aubrey, and Jonah are more suspicious, especially when Mildred seems completely shocked by their arrival. The three cousins, who have secrets and motivations of their own, are determined to discover what caused their parents to fall from grace, even if the truth is darker than they ever suspected. A slow-burn, uneasy beginning ultimately makes way for a frantically paced end peppered with twists that genre fans will happily take in stride. The narration is mostly split between half Japanese, half white Milly and white Aubrey and Jonah, although occasional chapters flash back to their parents' past. Fans of McManus' previous offerings and of mysteries steeped in family dramatics will be eager for this. HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: Her debut (One of Us Is Lying, 2017) hit #1 on the New York Times best-seller list and has been optioned for a pilot, and the clamor for her subsequent YA thrillers has proven that McManus knows how to keep us on the hook. No chance that this one will be any different.

Kirkus Book Review

The Story family is full of secrets--and three cousins will unearth them. Once inconsequential Gull Cove Island off the coast of Massachusetts was transformed into a luxurious getaway by Abraham Story. In the late 1990s, his widow, Mildred, suddenly disinherited her four young adult offspring--Adam, Anders, Allison, and, Archer--without explanation except for a mysterious letter, sent by her lawyer to each sibling, that read: "You know what you did." A couple of decades later, the three Story grandchildren--Milly, Aubrey, and Jonah--receive letters from the grandmother they've never met, inviting them to spend the summer working at her island resort. Sensing an opportunity to regain entry into their mother's world, Allison, Adam, and Anders force their respective children to accept her invitation. Upon their arrival at Gull Cove Island, where the Story family is a hot topic of gossip among the locals, it's clear that the family's past is darker than the cousins imagined. Not only is someone trying to get them to leave, but their grandmother was not expecting them. In classic McManus fashion, perspectives shift, providing insights into the three cousins' distinct stories and personal motives while maintaining a steady pace that leaves readers flipping pages. Every twist is gasp-inducing, and the ending will satisfy some and make others yearn for a sequel. The main cast is White except for Milly, who is biracial (White and Japanese). Another McManus novel worth pulling an all-nighter for. (family tree) (Thriller. 14-18) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Author notes provided by Syndetics

Karen M. McManus is a #1 New York Times and internationally bestselling author of young adult thrillers. Her books include the One of Us Is Lying series, which has been turned into a television show on Peacock, as well as the standalone novels Two Can Keep a Secret , The Cousins , You'll Be the Death of Me , and Nothing More to Tell . Karen's critically acclaimed, award-winning work has been translated into more than forty-two languages.

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