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The contrite reaction I was hoping for never came. Instead, Viv’s second hand flew up to meet the first as she started laughing. Soon, she was doubled over, holding on to the counter for balance, clutching her stomach with her free hand. Whenever her laughter slowed, she’d straighten up, catch sight of the screen, and start laughing again.

Grandma laughed right along with her, occasionally glancing at me and laughing even harder when she saw how unamused I was by the whole thing.

“Viv! This is serious!” I cried, throwing my hands in the air. “I can’t have people associating the shop with poop before we even open!”

My comment made her laugh even harder, and when I played it back in my head, I had a little trouble holding back a slightly hysterical giggleof my own.

“Or after we open!” I added, trying to keep my expression stern.

Slowly, she straightened up, gasping for air and wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, keeping her gaze pointed at the ground, either to avoid looking at me or so she wouldn’t see the web page again. After one more deep breath, she straightened up all the way and threw her shoulders back. “I’m sorry the name is so whack. That’s my b. But look at how many followers the page has! And I don’t think it’s because they think it’s a page about poop!” A tiny snort laugh escaped through her nose, and she slammed her hand against her mouth to keep any others from squeezing through.

“Viv! You swear you didn’t pick that name on purpose?” I pleaded.

“No!” she cried, throwing her hands in the air angrily as though she hadn’t just been laughing hysterically. “I mean, it’s friggin’ hilarious. But I’m not an idiot! I was trying to do something good! But I messed it up. Just like I mess everything up.” She swiped away an angry tear and turned to storm away, but I grabbed her arm before she could get too far.

“Hey! Hey! It’s okay. You didn’t mess anything up. I’m sorry I overreacted. There’s a lot going on, and I’m beyond overwhelmed, which isn’t an excuse, I know. I’m sorry I yelled. Can we please just start this conversation over?” Viv’s guarded expression softened slightly, and she stopped pulling away from me. “Do you want a cookie?” I asked. It took me a beat to understand why her face darkened into a fresh angry scowl. “Oh! No! Not in a little kid way! I baked some test cookies last night. I just thought you might want one.”

“Oh.” Viv looked sheepish for a moment. Then she smiled shyly. “I haven’t tried one yet. I’d like that. Thanks.”

“Tea?” I offered and laughed when she made a face. “Not a fan, huh?”

“It’s just…” She glanced around the shop, and I laughed again.

“She’s not here. Out running an errand.”

Her shoulders dropped a couple of inches. “Even with the honey, it wasn’t very good.”

“Mine was…”—I scrambled for the right word—“interesting. It kind of grew on me by the end of the cup.” I caught her eye, and we both laughed. “I’ll grab the cookies. Have a seat,” I said, heading for the kitchen. “But, not that one,” I added as she grabbed the chair Grandma was lounging on.

“Why not?” Viv frowned at the chair in her hand and the one facing it to see how it was different.

“It’s dirty.” It was the first thing that popped into my head, and it was clearly the wrong one.

Viv laughed and cupped her face with her hands in mock horror. “Oh no! The widdle germs might get on our cookies. How awful!” She rolled her eyes and pulled the chair toward her, unceremoniously dumping my grandmother’s ghost onto the floor.

Except that Grandma didn’t fall. She hovered in place, looking partly indignant and partly amused. The amusement grew as Viv slid into the chair and into her.

That tickles, she laughed, squirming in place. Oh… I wonder if…

Her suddenly devious expression tipped me off as to what she was thinking, and I shook my head firmly and frowned at her. Which, of course, made me look like I was shaking my head and frowning at Viv, who groaned and rolled her eyes at me.

“Fine. I’ll sit up. Why do grown-ups have to be so boooooring?” she asked no one in particular as she sat up and rubbed her arms. “It’s cold here. Did you know that? Colder than over there.” She nodded to the spot where we’d been standing next to the counter.

“Weird,” I replied with a shrug. “Cookies. BRB.” Her loud groan at my intentionally egregious use of the gamer acronym for “be right back” made me chuckle to myself.

When I returned with a plate of cookies in one hand and two chocolate milks in the other, Grandma had vanished and Viv was scowling at her phone.

“Everything okay?” I asked, nodding at the phone that she’d just tossed face-side down on the table with a muttered curse.

“Whatever.” Viv shrugged. Her expression brightened when her eyes fell on the cookies. “These are soooooo cute!”

A little thrill of pride rippled through me as she oohed and aahed over the cookies, debating whether to have the Highland cow, the sheep, or the Scottish Terrier. She frowned slightly when she saw the unicorn hiding under a few other cookies.

“The dog I get, and even the weird water-monster thing, but what’s the deal with the unicorn?”

“It’s the official national animal of Scotland.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously. “You’re punking me.”