Dear Meredith by Belle Kismet Page B

knew you could do it. You know, sometimes I think you're the only person who can't see what you're capable of," she says, suddenly serious.
                My mouth drops open. Mike had said almost exactly the same thing.
                Not knowing what to say, I change the subject. As usual. "Daniel called about the bookstore. He says all the documents are in place now and we can start with the redecorating."
                Laney gives me a look which warns me that she knows what I'm doing, but allows the diversion. "That's wonderful. It's going to look beautiful once it's completed. I can't believe Mr. Chin didn't maximise the use of that space."
                I agree. It has been exactly one week since Mike's second letter arrived. I'd rang Daniel, our lawyer, who, like Old Ned, told me he had been awaiting my call.  I couldn't help but wonder if there was a third actor waiting in the wings for his cue to appear.
               
                The bookstore is beautiful. Or at least, it will be soon.
                But even standing amidst the scaffolding, with all the hammering and construction work going on around me, I feel amazingly at home already.
                I had fallen in love with it at first sight. Mike's description had held true - a dark, dingy corner shop it was, but oh, what potential.
                Laney and I had decided to replace the peeling linoleum squares on the floor with wooden flooring, while the walls would be repainted in a warm, grey shade. After surveying the space, we also decided to add a raised platform, where most of the bookshelves would stand. The front of the shop facing the glass window display would be reserved for several squashy armchairs and little coffee tables.
                We will keep the ancient cash register, it's a thing of beauty. But the countertop itself will be changed, while the toilet and little kitchenette at the back of the shop is getting a complete overhaul.
                We had also paid a visit to the warehouse, where Mike had temporarily sent the books. I was thrilled with the selection of titles available, although I anticipated quite a big headache sorting them out.
                My second swimming lesson had went, well, swimmingly, I suppose. This time, Milo had coaxed us into getting into the water, allowing us to plant our toes firmly on the pool floor while we maintained death grips on the pool's edge.
                I was honestly quite amazed with myself as I stood there with the water lapping around my shoulders. But to my dismay, I was now forced to admit to myself that I found Grant quite attractive, although why that was so when I seemed completely immune to the hunk of man meat that was Milo was a complete mystery to me.
                There is just something elusive about him, although he seems friendly enough. However, he doesn't speak much except to his adorable daughter, who showed up this time in a green bathing suit with a dinosaur print.
                But for a minute there, as I hovered between euphoria and panic in the water, I felt him looking at me as though he wanted to say something.
                My happy mood suddenly ebbs away at this memory, replaced with a stab of guilt. I have no idea why I'm even thinking about Grant, when I'm still very much in love with Mike.
                Suddenly, impulsively, I decide to pay a visit to Mike's grave even though I just went yesterday. I swing by the house to collect Bandit, who bounds exuberantly into my car after giving me joyful licks despite seeing me just half an hour ago.
                The sun is midway down the horizon when we arrive and a cool breeze greets us. I clip on her leash and we wind our way down towards Mike's grave.
                It's a familiar ritual now for the both of us and Bandit stretches