Abilene Kildare was nervous.

It had been only a week or so since she returned to Whitby after many years of absence, and she'd been delaying going out into town because she was worried she wouldn't be recognized- or, worse, that she would. She'd had a good amount of friends here in her childhood, and she remembered their faces well and was sure she'd know them if she came upon them, but would they ever remember her? She'd been a rather small, stocky girl when she'd moved to London at twelve years old, and since then, she'd grown up into a young woman who, when seeing herself in the mirror, blushed at how her face was much prettier than she'd expected it to become. In London, she'd had quite a few fellows, some her age and some as old as sixty, coming to her grandmother's home to ask to court her, calling her beautiful and gorgeous and lovely, but Abilene wasn't much inclined to those men. If they only sought her for her looks, that of which she recognized as attractive but always blushed when told so, a humble girl, she didn't want their attention.

Drawing her scarf, knitted by her sister as a farewell present before she left London, tighter around her neck, Abilene took a deep breath of the crisp winter-sea air. She stood in her doorway for a moment, collecting her thoughts, before venturing out into the streets. Although she'd lived on the other side of town as a child, she'd explored most of town with her friends and so followed a long-remembered path through downtown to the marketplace her parents' shop resided in. It was still here, surprisingly similar to what she recalled, and she walked slowly into the crowd of people going about their days, shopping and chattering with each other. Her gaze scanned the crowd and locked on the face of someone she remembered well. Could it be?

He wasn't one of the men who paid attention to her for her looks. Indeed, he was too busy when in London to even have thoughts of any woman, let alone the girl who lived near the bakery where he'd apprenticed. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty, it was that he was an orphan and didn't think himself worthy, going along with his many responsibilities with the man who took him in off the streets and basically saved his life.

He was out and about as it was market day. He needed more flour and other supplies and to pay vendors what he owed. He thought he was doing well for himself... he had a girl he was courting... his bakery was becoming successful... and there were other things that just happened to put a pep in his step. Andrew adjusted the parcel in his hands and glanced about when he noticed someone familiar peering his way. Was that the girl? Could it be?

Andrew walked up to her and asked, "Miss Kildare?"

Abilene blushed when he caught her gaze and started heading over. Oh, Lord, she hadn't prepared herself to actually talk to him. "Miss Kildare?" Her hands were clasped before her, a basket holding a few things she'd bought hung over her wrist. "Yes," she replied, a bit nervous. "And you are Mister Willaby." Her cheeks flushed a deeper pink. "Er, am I right in assuming such?"

"It's been a time since I've seen ye," he said. "'Tis a small world ye bein' in Whitby." He gave a smile. He hadn't really noticed her beauty before that day, a beauty that was hard to compare to... And now that he had, he hoped that Miss Rose didn't spot him staring at the pretty woman, and averted his eyes out of guilt for his admiration. It wouldn't do to lose footing with the one woman who stuck around after all those cheesy pickup lines.

"Indeed," Abilene replied, mentally scrambling for the right things to say. The wind picked up and twirled her scarf around her neck and she quickly batted it down, still blushing, to see his face again. "I was born here, but moved to London at twelve," she said, then wondered why she'd said it. Well, as long as it kept the conversation going, she supposed nervously. And what on earth was she thinking, considering him a handsome fellow like that- while reconnecting after many years- what a foolish girl, she inwardly scolded herself, keep it together.

"I see," he said. "Well, welcome home then." He gave a smile and wondered what had brought her back to Whitby after all this time. Not that he had an issue with it. Andrew straightened up, "How have ye been? The last time I saw ye was wellbefore I moved to Whitby. Did yer family come with ye?"

"Thank you," Abilene replied to his welcome home sentiment, then shook her head at his later question. "It's only me, at the moment," she replied, a smile coming to her face to match the width of Andrew's. "My sister Linnie wants to come, but she-" The words caught in Abilene's throat for a moment and she blushed. "Our grandmother won't allow it. Yet."

"I see," he said, though he was curious as to what she was going to say and didn't. He nodded softly to her in response to what she did say. "Well, ye're welcome to me bakery any time ye'd like. I have a lot of goods. Me master taught me well afore I left London, I reckon."

"Thank you," she said and blushed as she added after a beat, "I'm actually trying to find a baker to apprentice to at the moment." A smile appeared on her face. "I'd like to follow in my parents' footsteps, God bless their departed souls."

"Is that so? Well it just so happens that I need an apprentice. I am starting to get busier in me shop than I anticipated." He smiled as he made the offer. "Why don't ye follow me and I'll take ye to me shop so ye can see fer yerself what I have been doing?" A business thing, he thought, would not be inappropriate. All it was was business.