“That sounds like her,” I murmured.
My father looked up. “Tell me about Brenda.”
I sat down. “She and Elias grew up together. Same neighborhood in Oakland. He told me she was like a sister.”
Rebecca arched one eyebrow but said nothing.
“She was always around,” I continued. “At first I liked her. She was funny. Direct. She gave me advice about Elias, told me he had trust issues because people always left him. When he and I argued, she would somehow know exactly what happened before I told anyone.”
“Did that bother you?” my father asked.
“A little. But Elias said he talked to her because she knew him best.” I stared down at my hands. “I thought being jealous of his oldest friend would make me small.”
Rebecca’s expression shifted.
“Ella,” she said, gentler than before, “generosity without boundaries can become a doorway.”
I nodded, though the words stung.
