“Nice trinket. Family heirloom?” “Memento of my daughter.” Hester paused, mid-finger-comb. “… Oh. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have picked it up if—” “It’s fine.” Devon opened the compass to display it. “Have a look if you want.” Everyone should see her daughter. “She’s lovely,” Hester said, subdued. “Of course. All little children are beautiful.” Devon snapped the compass shut and wound the chain around her palm. “Adults, not so much. We’ve done too many things in our lives to be beautiful.”
