Ella smiled at Leah's demurral. "I don't mind," she said honestly, stepping away from the candles and taking another small sip of her wine.
She tilted her head, and she looked at Leah carefully. "It's hard to figure you, though, when you aren't saying much. Ed, here, was easy to get talking." Then, more quietly, thoughtful. "I remember you, Leah, but not very well. I remember I was jealous of you, because you were older, and because I wanted a sister very badly. As I grew up, I blamed Jane Austen for that; her own relationship with her sister found its way into so many of her books. When we met, though, it wasn't influenced by anything but the honest desire to have someone around to spend time with me. I assumed your life was perfect. That you were never lonely or sad, even though I remember now that you were. I think children see what they think is there sometimes, instead of what is truly in front of them. I was no different, I'm afraid."
She smiled openly. "There's my dose of honesty for the evening."