The last guest left just after nine.
My sister carried leftovers to her car, my mother shouted one last « Happy eighteenth! » from the driveway, and Donny waved from the door.
What she said next made me realize the two girls had once shared a secret I knew nothing about.
I started gathering plates from the dining table.
Grace didn’t move.
She was still sitting in the same chair she’d occupied during dinner, one hand resting beside an untouched piece of birthday cake.
« Grace? »
She was staring at the framed photograph on the cabinet across the room.
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