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Melanie laughed, the lightness of her friend’s voice filling her with hope. “While I would love to steal that heavenly recipe, there’s something else I’m going to need you for tonight.”

“What’s going on?”

Melanie let out a heavy, loaded sigh. “Leila has an art exhibit opening tonight at Baybrook. And…apparently it’s all about Duncan.”

Rory was stunned into silence, processing this information for a moment. Leila was Duncan’s girlfriend from last summer. They broke up right before he died, but she could still hear Leila’s wails from the funeral ringing in her ears. She shook her head, brushing away the horrid memory. “You…want to go with me? Not your parents? Calvin?”

“No, I just—can’t with them. And Calvin has class.”

“Lazy,” she teased, hoping to get another laugh out of Melanie. She did. “Yes, of course I’ll go with you, Mrs. Ass Hat. I’ll come pick you up now.”

* * *

Rory squeezed Melanie’s hand. “You sure about this?”

Melanie nodded, looking out at Baybrook School of Fine Arts from where they sat in the parking lot. Even though it was small, the campus was like a work of art in itself—a few ornate marble buildings circled a quad, with a gorgeous three-tiered water fountain at the center. Even the lights were artfully placed around campus, showcasing each building’s interesting angles. The gallery banquet hall was lit as students and guests streamed in and out.

Rory stepped out of the car. “Is this all for her?”

“No. She told me it’s for her sculpture class, so it features all the students taking it.”

“You talked to her?”

Melanie nodded. “She called me last night.”

Rory stopped her friend, placing her hands on Melanie’s shoulders. “Again, are you sure about this?”

“I’m kind of curious,” Melanie whispered. “Aren’t you?”

“I mean, obviously,” she answered. “I just want what’s best for you.”

Melanie looped an arm through Rory’s. “Just be here with me, okay?”

She nodded, a lump rising in her throat.

She’d become what Melanie needed—starting with a steady arm for her friend to lean on as they walked through the doors of Baybrook. The different sculptures were incredible—some of them welded or carved into figures that were recognizable, like people or animals or plants. Others were a bit more abstract, pieces collected together to represent ideas and concepts, like political divide or famine or heartbreak. Rory picked up a program for the event and flipped through it, scanning the different descriptions for each piece. Every single one of them was inspiring. She could have spent hours in that hall gazing at the sculptures, taking them in.

But she wasn’t there for herself, she was there for Melanie, who was leading her toward a section in the back. A charcoal-colored curtain covered the doorway of this exhibit, and unlike other sculptures that had plaques with intricate explanations for each piece, this plaque only had one word.

grief

All written in lowercase letters. Like the artist didn’t have the energy to capitalize the title, as if grief had consumed them to their core.

She felt shivers down her spine, afraid of what Melanie was about to experience.

She tightened her grip on Rory’s arm. “Don’t ask me again. We’re doing this.”

“Okay,” Rory whispered. “I’ve got you every step of the way.”

Melanie peeled back the curtain, the two of them stepping in before being blanketed once again in darkness. But not complete darkness—the room had enough lighting set ingeniously at different points to accentuate the pieces within. The sculptures around the room were black and solid, but with the lights, she could almost picture them as wistful puffs of smoke. Her eyes were glued instantly to the center of the room. A spotlight was fixed on a slim white stand, a beacon of pureness in a room covered in dark. And placed at the center of the stand was a tiny sculpture. A sandcastle.

Melanie cried softly as Rory wrapped her in her arms. The sandcastle was a symbol of hope, a memory of goodness when grief consumed your being. It was like taking her friend’s inner core and putting it on display. Rory was nauseated by it. But…she was also impressed.

“Mel?” whispered a soft voice at the curtain.

Rory and Melanie broke away, looking at Leila, who was standing at the curtain. She was wearing a floor-length black dress, her blonde hair wild like the wind, her hazel eyes glistening with tears.

Melanie gave Leila a shy smile. “The sandcastle…”