Swift by Heather London

me on specific people I wanted to research, where I planned on staying, how long I was going to be there, and many other topics. I assured her that, before I left, she would have a detailed schedule of all the when’s, where’s, and who’s. I was still not a 100 percent sure on it all. After a few more questions, she seemed satisfied with my answers … for the moment, anyway. For a congratulatory lunch, it felt more like an interrogation.
    After a few more errands, we headed back home. “Oh crap,” Aunt Rose muttered as we turned onto Maple Avenue.
    “What’d you forget?” I guessed.
    “I was supposed to stop by the hardware store and pick up a new part for the toilet. The toilet in my bathroom has been leaking, and Jack told me he would fix it as long as I got the part. Do you mind if we go back? Should only take a minute.”
    “Sure.” I shrugged. It’s not like I had anything pressing to do at home.
    Aunt Rose pulled over, making a U-turn to head back into town. When we arrived at the hardware store, we parted ways. I aimlessly walked the aisles as Aunt Rose explained her toilet problem to the store associate.
    “Meredith?” someone from behind me called anxiously. “It’s such a coincidence that I would bump into you here, the hardware store out of all places.”
    I turned around and saw two familiar green eyes on a smiling face. “Abby?” I asked, shocked, giving her a once-over. Her look had changed drastically since the last time I had seen her. She was ... beautiful, and much more up-to-date-looking, if that even describes her transformation. She was wearing an emerald-colored sundress, one that I would see a model wearing in a magazine. Her hair was still the same corn-silk blonde, but it was styled as if she had just walked out of a salon. I couldn’t help but look her up and down again, admiring her new clothes and style. Before, she had been so simple and plain-looking. Not that she had overdone it, but suddenly I felt like I paled in comparison, where before I had felt like somewhat of an equal.
    “What brings you to the hardware store?” I questioned, trying my best to strike up a conversation in order to distract myself from staring at her amazing makeover.
    “I mentioned that we are restoring one of the older estates, right?”
    “Uh, yeah, I remember you saying something about that,” I answered, trying hard to maintain eye contact. I still had not forgotten the weirdness between us the evening after the party: the things she and Blake had said to one another and the way they had acted when I had accidently interrupted them.
    “Well, I’m just here getting some paint samples for the interior of the house.” She lifted the basket in her arms to show me. It was filled with tiny cans and a handful of small paintbrushes.
    “Oh, cool,” I responded, not knowing what else to say.
    “Would you—” She started to ask but then shook her head and stared at the ground. “Never mind, I just had a silly idea, but I’m sure you’re too busy.”
    “What is it?” I insisted, regretting the words the moment I said them.
    “Well, I was going to ask, if you are not too busy of course, if you would help me decide on some paint colors. You know, come over and help me choose the right ones.”
    “I don’t think I would be much help. I don’t really have any experience in that department,” I confessed.
    “Neither do I. Honestly, this is my first go-around with all of this. And my mom and dad are so outdated, and well, my brother couldn’t care less about what color blue should go on the living room walls. But I’m sure you’re too busy.”
    As I looked at her, contemplating how I should answer, I swear that she was purposely making a pouty-face at me.
    But then my mind drifted to her brothers blue eyes and my yearning to see him again answered for me. It was a weird feeling, one that I was not sure how to describe. We had not really even spoken to one another, but I felt the need to