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“Yes, very.”
Dropping her head in her arms, she bursts into tears. I give a start, glancing at Angelo again when big, ugly sobs rack her narrow shoulders.
He raises his palms, looking as helpless as I feel.
“Sophie, sweetheart.” I hug her closer. “What’s wrong? Is it the news about your parents? I know we haven’t spoken about that yet, but—”
She lifts her head and bawls, “I’m sorry I was a mean person.”
“What? Oh, Sophie. You’re not mean.”
“Yes, I am,” she says between heart-wrenching sobs. “I was mean to Brad.”
I stroke her back. “Why do you say that?”
Hiccuping, she says, “Heidi wanted to give him one of my books to read to keep him busy so that his mommy could get dressed and I said no.” Crying harder, she continues, “And now I’m really sorry that I’m so mean.”
“We all do things we sometimes regret,” I say gently. “But it’s never too late to make it right. Why don’t you pick a story you think Brad will like and lend him your book?”
She sniffs. “Do you think he’ll like that?”
“I’m sure he will.”
She wipes her nose on her arm. “Am I a bad person, Sabella?”
“No, sweetheart.” I wipe a strand of hair from her face. “You’re not a bad person. We’re human. That means we make mistakes.”
She hiccups again. “Do you still love me?”
I wrap my arms around her. “Forever.”
“Even if I’m sometimes bad?”
“Always. That’s why we call it unconditional love.”
She blows out a shaky breath before pulling away. “I think I’ll stay here with you and Angelo and Brad and Ben and Johan and Étienne and Guillaume and Heidi and Doris and Mattie and Jared and…” she sucks in a noisy breath, “…Celeste and Ryan and Granny Margaret.”
“I think everyone will like that very much.”
Like the sun shining through the rain, a smile breaks out on her teary face.
I take the box from my pocket and hand it to her. “I have something else for you.”
She stares at the box. “For me?”
“Open it,” I urge.
She flips back the lid. For a moment, we say nothing as she studies the delicate gold bracelet with the interlinking daisies and diamond centers.
Looking back at me, she says, “It’s very pretty.”
“Look.” I remove the bracelet and hold it up in the light. “The petals are like threads of spun gold. You can see through them. It was made for a young lady.” As nostalgic memories flood me, I add with a soft smile, “For a princess.”
“Is it a gift?” She studies my face. “For me?”
“Angelo’s father gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday, and I think it should stay in the family. As you’re the oldest girl, you should have it.” Placing the bracelet on her palm, I say, “One day, you can give it to your oldest daughter.”
“Do you mean that, Sabella?”
