Then she reached out and tapped the table lightly until Ophelia looked up.
"It isn't your fault," Isabella said.
Ophelia's lips parted. "But I left her there. I should have known. I should have…"
"You're too nice," Isabella said. "Too nice. One day it may be the death of you."
The words sounded harsh.
Still, the way Isabella said them made the warmth inside them obvious.
Ophelia swallowed and nodded, because she knew it was true. Her kindness had almost opened the door to something terrible, and even though Isabella was not blaming her, Ophelia now understood more clearly why Shelia kept scolding her about strangers.
Shelia reached over and squeezed her hand under the table once. That one small gesture steadied her more than any speech could have.
Zyran, who had been listening to everything with the look of a man only half interested, finally spoke up again. "So what do you plan to do with her?"
His tone was casual.
His eyes were not.
