Pumpkin Patch Princess

CHAPTER THREE: Pumpkins and Parental Units

I stopped by the market for fish and when I got home, I found Dad in full pumpkin farmer mode. He wore a pair of juice-splattered overalls and gestured excitedly with a spade as he talked to a couple of tourists in colorful vacation clothes. They were drinking up every word, no doubt awed by the depth of his passion for giant squashes.

Dad spotted me and beamed. "Ah, here's my loyal assistant! Without my daughter's help, Big Ben would be half his size today." He pointed at his massive prize pumpkin, which towered over the others.

I waved away the compliment. "You're the one with the orange thumb, Dad."

"You're so modest," one of the tourists told me, smiling. "Will you be working for your dad full-time now that you're done school?"

Dad chuckled. "I'm sure her mother will have something to say about that. Noelle's just as talented in the shoe shop as she is out here in the fields."

I felt my cheeks grow warmer. "Dad, stop bragging."

The tourist grinned. "What a proud papa. I guess it's good that you won't be leaving. Your parents seem to need you too much!"

I shifted my weight, the C.A.F.E. ad practically burning a hole in my pocket. I tried to ignore the hard knot of guilt in my stomach. "Would you excuse me? I have to take this fish inside before it goes bad."

Dad clapped me on the back. "Good thinking. And you'd better go help Mom after. The shop's packed today."

The fact that my parents really did seem to need me was reinforced the minute I walked into the shoe shop. Mom practically melted with relief when she saw me, her pretty face flushed from running back and forth.

She handed me a pair of sky-blue pumps with wooden heels that had been carved into the letter 'E' and had taken us weeks to perfect. "Would you get a pair with the letter 'A' instead, honey?" She lowered her voice. "How was I to know she didn't spell her name with an 'E'?"

I grinned in spite of myself. "Coming right up."

"And while you're back there, could you grab me an extra pair of the apricot flats?" Mom hurried off to help a woman who had apparently been reduced to tears by the pressure of selecting the perfect shoe. Her friends stood around her, some of them looking more murderous than sympathetic.

I dodged at least a dozen dawdling customers before I reached the peace and quiet of the storage room. Although the shop itself was neat and orderly, it was nothing compared to this room. Last summer, we spent two weeks organizing everything in our stock by style, color, and function. The system helped me find whatever I wanted with ease.

I ran around the shop, delivering shoes, and sighed when I saw the piles of discarded footwear people had left carelessly behind. I was just about to clean them up when a group of giggling girls asked for seven pairs of ribbon-strap pumps, all in different sizes and colors.

This went on for some time until the flow of customers finally slowed down.

"It's been a madhouse all morning." Mom collapsed onto one of the sofas where shoppers' bored husbands usually sat. "I think I must have sold about 300 pairs."

"I wonder why. It's August. There aren't any holidays coming up soon," I mused.

Mom gave me a strange look. "The King's Festival, silly!"

"The one in Irisia? But that's not until December!"

"You really need to catch up on current events, Noelle," Mom said, chuckling. "The ball's going to be a big deal this year. Prince Christopher is turning eighteen and his parents are using the festival to find him a future bride."