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Show Hannah Mae and the Mona Lisa 55 "I'm in Paris!" I whispered. Colby said, "Oui mademoiselle." His French was awful. "I couldn't do everything you dreamed up, though. I hope you don't mind." I shook my head and stared. Colby grinned and wrapped his arms around me and squeezed until I couldn't breathe. "Hannah Mae, you have the best brain in all of Willard County." I pushed away. "You're all finished," I said. "You didn't even need my help." "I still have to paint details," he explained. "The Parisians need faces and the Eiffel Tower needs cross braces and the girl's dress is a mess and the sign isn't finished." Colby pointed to the sign lying on a table. The letters were outlined, but empty. Colby and Hannah's French Corner Market. "I put my name first because C comes before H. Is that okay?" I said, "You should have left my name off." I meant it. Colby gave me a bucket of blue paint and I filled in letters while he mshed about like a bee jumping flowers. He ran from side to back to side to front. One minute he was painting red, the next green, the next grey, the next blue, whistling the whole time like he was playing instead of working. Only thirty minutes into the project, a car pulled over and stopped at our market. "Oh no," Colby moaned. I worried something had happened yesterday while I was avoiding my friend. Perhaps Colby had splattered paint on a passing car or ran into something with the tmck. We were in trouble before we had opened for business. A dark window eased down and a woman called out, "Are you open yet?" |