Chapter 2

Meredith took her cup to the sink, but there wasn’t room for one more thing in there, so she loaded the dishwasher before discovering she was out of soap tablets. Damn it.Add grocery shopping to tomorrow’s chores.Her shoulders slumped as she jotted down some items on the back of an ad for garage door openers that was lying on the counter.

Heading toward her bedroom to change into PJs, Meredith passed the computer and saw the friend request still up on the screen.Screw it! Sure, Jennifer, you can be my friend. Why the hell not?

CONFIRM.

* * * *

Early the next morning, Meredith grabbed her keys along with the hastily scrawled grocery list. Crap. The rear tire was low again. Faster than usual. Good thing the tire place was on the way to the grocery store. The last thing she needed was to be stuck alongside the road with perishables perishing.

The mechanic behind the desk seemed to take a sadistic pleasure in detailing the inadequacy of the tread on all her tires, but she held firm and only agreed to having one replaced despite his dire warnings about not getting at least two. After settling into the last empty seat in the waiting room, Meredith pulled out her phone.

There was already a comment on Facebook from the mysterious Jennifer.

So happy to have found you again, Mer. I wasn’t sure you’d remember me, but I certainly remember you. I wonder if you’re still that same stubborn idealist I went up against in a debate I’ll never forget. We may just have the chance to find out.

Aha. Jennifer Stockton. No one else ever had called her Mer and gotten away with it. How she hated it, the nickname making her feel even more horsey than she already did at her height and build. But she was happy to be noticed at all by Jen back in high school.

Wonder what she means by having the chance to find out?The tire guy called her name and she had no more time to think about Jennifer’s cryptic message. But later, after she put away her groceries, Meredith finally returned to the computer, more than a little intrigued.

Never in a million years did she expect to hear from thatJennifer. Jen Stockton, with all her confidence and poise. Heads had turned every time she entered a room. Boys flocked to her, clamoring for a chance to ask her out, and girls wanted to be like her. And Meredith had felt like a whole lot of nothing around her. Until the debate, that is.

What a ridiculous thing to be proud of, being successful at arguing, but it was the first time Meredith had ever won anything. Gangly and uncoordinated, she lacked any athletic ability and didn’t have an artistic or musical bone in her body, so sports and the arts were out. In a desperate attempt to be noticed and become part of some group, anygroup, Meredith had actuallyauditioned for the school play her junior year. She still cringed remembering it. God, she’d made such a colossal mess of the Shakespeare soliloquy she’d rehearsed for days, that beautiful impassioned speech by Helena from All’s Well That Ends Well. Well, all did not end well for her, that’s for sure. Apparently, she couldn’t convincingly declare her love for a man even back then.

But then came the debate team, which only seemed to require that she take some side and find a way to defend it, and there she had found her niche. Intelligent and well-read, before long Meredith was accepted by the team and even had a positive impact on their competitions. Who would have thought? Not only that, Jen was on the debate team, so every Tuesday after school, Meredith’s heart beat a little faster. She took a little extra time getting ready for school in the morning. It was stupid, really. What purpose did that serve? But she still did it. Fussed with her unruly hair. Pored over fashion magazines for ideas. Talked her older cousin Freda into giving her makeup tips. And doggedly refused to wonder why impressing Jen was so important to her.

Way to get your confidence up, Mer! Part of her wanted to ignore the message altogether. What was to be gained by dredging up old memories, long dead feelings? Still, curiosity—and she dared not think what else—won out and she drafted a response.

Stubborn idealist? For defending what I believe in? If I remember correctly, you were pretty passionate in your rebuttal.

Wait. Maybe she shouldn’t act like she remembered, let alone with such clarity. What the hell. You could be a lot more candid online. Not as much to lose. SEND

A response came almost immediately and Meredith sat up in her chair.