Pumpkin Patch Princess

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Old Habits Die Really Hard

I basked in the joy of coming home. Dad's delicious meals, Mom's hugs and advice, and even the view of the pumpkin patch from my window brought tears to my eyes. It was all so unchanged.

My parents closed up shop early each day to spend time with me. I told them about Maud kicking goblins, Jessaline and Sloane's antics, and how Alfonso the frog had become Alfonso the naked prince. But their favorite story was the one about the pumpkin carriage, which made them laugh until they cried.

"You know, I wasn't thrilled about you going to C.A.F.E.," Mom told me one afternoon, as we entered her shop. "But I'm very glad you did. I couldn't be prouder of you."

"Mom, you're getting so sentimental!" I said, kissing her cheek.

She dabbed at her eyes. "Come take a look at what I've been up to since you left."

She certainly hadn't been idle, because the shop was cluttered with exquisite shoes in every color of the rainbow. They sparkled and shimmered and shone in the sunlight, fashion statements in their own right rather than just accessories to a gown.

"Mom," I said, picking up a pump so intricately carved that it resembled lace, "everything looks amazing."

"The shop has never done so well," she said, grinning from ear to ear as she adjusted a pair of peach silk heels. "Business has tripled. You'll have to thank the king of Irisia for me for throwing that festival. You're going, aren't you?"

"I'd like to," I admitted. "I've been thinking about taking Princess Cynthia there, if she becomes my client. And I actually have a shoe design in mind for the occasion . . ."

I explained about my idea and showed her the charm, though I didn't say who it was from. She was skeptical until I showed her the diamond glass and dragon fire, and the familiar gleam appeared in her eyes.

We spent three days working on the design. It was lucky that Fuzz had given me plenty of material, because we made a ton of mistakes at first. I had figured out a way to expand the dragon fire by shaking the pebbles onto the hearth and building a real fire around them. I blended the two fires with my magic wand and held pieces of glass over the heat.

Mom rolled these into a ball, which she flattened into the sole of the shoe. It took some practice, since the fragments kept solidifying. "Now we need a mold." But when I stuck out a foot, she refused. "No, that's too dangerous. We'll mold it around an already made shoe, then melt it down to make it smaller," she decided.

We ended up molding the softened glass around a sturdy pair of oak heels, and once it had taken on the basic shape, we quickly removed it and smoothed the edges. The magic wand helped speed the process and blend the edges seamlessly.

Once the heels had been melted down and attached, Mom spread a thin, even layer of sole-lution on the underside. "No one will see this because the woman's foot will be covering it anyway," she said. "The pumps need it for strength and support."

The shoes came together at the end of the second day, and they looked beautiful, but . . . a little boring. At first, we considered shaping little flowers out of the remaining glass and attaching them, but a better (and easier) idea soon struck me.

"How about we carve flowers into the shoes themselves?" I suggested.

Mom agreed right away, though we had a hard time at first. Using my magic wand was too hard and I was afraid I would ruin the shoes. In the end, we heated long pins over the fire in order to make the lacy designs.

At last, the shoes were complete. They glittered in the sun, the carved leaf-and-flower designs curving like fairy swirls on frost.

"And now, to test them," I said, removing my own shoes.