Free Serendipity Market by Penny Blubaugh Page B

eavesdropped.”
    â€œWhen the shoemaker and his wife woke early the next morning, he said, and I quote, ‘Sweet heaven, my Mary. Look at these shoes. I’ve never seen any as fine. Did you do this while I lay sleeping?’”
    â€œEarl! That sounds just like our shoemaker. Well done!”
    â€œThank you. Mary, of course, denied having anything to do with the shoes.”
    â€œKnowing that somehow he’d had an amazingpiece of luck as good as handed to him, the shoemaker put the golden shoes in his empty shop window. ‘If we sell them, Mary, we’ll eat for at least another week,’ he said.
    â€œPleased with ourselves, feeling that our part of the bargain had been paid, even if the shoemaker wasn’t aware of our trade, Earl and I fell asleep, curled like field mice in the warm, sweet-smelling attic.
    â€œAn hour later, well before the start of the business day, when the sun was barely pushing against the cracks in the attic walls, a battering at the street door woke us.
    â€œâ€˜Those shoes in your window!’ a man cried. ‘They’re beautiful. I must have them.’
    â€œOur shoemaker agreed that they were indeed beautiful.
    â€œâ€˜Please let me try them on. I only hope they fit as well as they look. I really must have them!’
    â€œWhen the man tried the shoes on, they fit as ifthey’d been custom-made for his feet alone.”
    â€œElven magic. In the stitching.”
    â€œThe man sighed with delight and purchased the shoes for a sum that made us gasp.”
    â€œIt’s always nice to see one’s work appreciated, don’t you think, Maddie?”
    â€œThe thing we’d hoped for had come to pass. We now felt completely confident that we’d worked to pay for the roof under which we had rested our heads. One good deed means another will follow.”
    â€œDo unto others.”
    â€œAnd we did so need a place to stay.”
    â€œSo stay we did. We fell back asleep, pleased with ourselves and our new home.
    â€œWe did the same good deed the next night. And again. And again.”
    â€œIt’s wise to keep your goodness in the plus column.”
    â€œEach night, the shoemaker cut the leather he’dpurchased with that day’s sales. Often there were one or two—”
    â€œOr three!”
    â€œâ€”more pairs than had been there the day before. But the leather was always the finest available. The cuts were always well done, the designs both practical and imaginative. Our rival to the north soon had a show window filled with nothing but faded leather, shadows, and dust. Remember the dust, Earl?
    â€œThen, one night when the winds were particularly fierce, when our attic shook like a ship lost at sea, we found clothing mixed among the leathers.”
    â€œThe most warm and comfortable clothes.”
    â€œYes. Oh, Earl, remember the sweater? The one with the flock of sheep playing in the spring fields?”
    â€œHow could I forget? You grabbed it almost before I saw it. In fact, all I could see, that night, were the colors. Pale green, white, and robin’s-egg blue. In all probability it was meant for you all along.”
    â€œI loved that sweater.”
    â€œWhich is why you love the winter so, I imagine. I myself was especially pleased with the pants. The right size. Even for my long legs.”
    â€œWe pranced like children in our new clothes. We almost forgot the shoes. When we remembered, we worked like demons. We stitched the red boots, nailed the blue slippers, laced the rich brown brogues. We finished just as the sun was showing its face over the village green.”
    â€œWhich was when we heard the creak on the stairs. We whirled around, but there was nothing there to see.”
    â€œ You didn’t see anything, Earl. I saw a slippered foot and the trailing hem of a nightshirt.”
    â€œPerhaps.”
    â€œOh, Earl. Certainly I did. And it made us talk that day in our