Crazy For Feet Forum

Hey, all. This has been long in coming—or just plain long. What I planned to be a short Christmas tale grew quickly as I built in detail. At first I didn't want to overshadow Hamilton and his annual Christmas tale, but then I realized I still wasn't anywhere near the ending I imagined.

As always, enjoy! Hope everyone had a delightful holiday season and that a better 2026 is in the cards. In the meantime, enjoy this little Hallmarkesque tale.

---

Abbi hung up the phone with a sigh and a smile. The day’s third rush order for a Christmas centerpiece meant she still had a late night ahead, but this was the best time of year for her little flower shop. In a month’s time, she would make more money than she would for the rest of the winter.

She stood at the counter for a moment, looking out the windows as light snow fell outside.

December was hard for Abbi. Her mother passed away three Decembers ago, leaving her the flower shop and the upstairs apartment they lived in. Abbi had helped her mother in the shop since she was a little girl, but she was still a year short of her college degree, and selling flowers had never been her plan.

Abbi put her studies on hold, and she leaned on her uncle for business advice. The first year was especially tough, but with her uncle’s guidance, she had kept the little shop going. Abbi still wanted to go back to school and finish her degree, but for now, she had made peace with being “The Flower Girl,” just like the sign outside proclaimed.

And while December tested Abbi’s emotions every year, the Christmas rush kept her busy, so busy that she barely had time to dwell on her feelings.

Abbi gathered everything she needed for an extra centerpiece, setting it on the workbench next to the two centerpieces she was already assembling. She thought about locking the front door an hour early, so no one would walk in and distract her from her crafting. But Abbi never locked the door early, just in case someone would stop by looking for an emergency bouquet, a few roses for a date night.

She assembled the third centerpiece quickly as she watched the brightly-lit town square outside. It warmed her heart to see her friendly little community, to see people milling about on the streets, shopping and chatting only a few days before Christmas.

Yet, as she gazed out the window, she felt lonely.

And then bells jingled as someone opened the front door.

“Hello?” Abbi called out from the bench.

“Hi,” a man’s voice said. Abbi could see him above the plant displays; he was tall and wearing a black peacoat, though that described at least half of her customers this time of year.

“How can I help you?” Abbi asked, dusting her hands off on her green apron.

The man stepped to the front counter. He was handsome, clean-shaven, and not far from her own age. Something about him looked strikingly familiar. “What do you have available for bouquets?” he asked. “Like, something seasonal.”

“There are a couple to the left over there,” Abbi said, pointing to a refrigerated case to her left. “Or I can make you something if those aren’t just right.”

“I’ll take a look,” the man said. He turned, paused, and doubled back. “Wait,” he said. “You look really familiar. Did you grow up here?”

“I did,” Abbi said. “I graduated in 2019.”

“So did I.” He tilted his head. “Abigail?”

“Abbi,” she answered. And as she corrected him, she instantly realized who he was. “You’re Matt Hargrove.”

Matt smiled. “We had creative writing together,” he said.

Abbi nodded. They sat next to each other senior year in Mr. Johnson’s class. “How have you been?” she asked.

“Great,” Matt said. “I live in New York now. Came home for Christmas a little early. How are you doing?”

“Um, I’m okay.” Abbi was flustered. “I, well, I’m still here.” She raised her hands in a triumphant but shy wave.

“Like, here here?” Matt looked around the store.

“Yeah,” Abbi said. “Well, I own it. I’m ‘The Flower Girl’ now.”

Matt gestured to Abbi’s hair. He had noticed the poinsettia blossom she had tucked in her hair that morning. She smiled, feeling her cheeks flush.

“That’s cool,” Matt said. “I work in IT. This seems a lot more…relaxed.”

“Maybe not this time of year, but usually,” Abbi said.

“I’m gonna check out those bouquets,” Matt said, turning his attention to the case where Abbi left a few arrangements each day for customers in a rush.

Abbi retreated to her bench, nervously wiping her palms on her apron again. She took a deep breath.

Abbi had an unrequited high school crush on Matt. She had shared plenty of classes with him over the years, but their senior-year creative writing class was the first time they ever shared more than a word or two. They struck up a friendly relationship in class. Even though Matt was outgoing and preppy, he was always so kind to her.

Abbi was shy and self-conscious, and she assumed Matt was way out of her league. Matt had gone off to college and so had Abbi, and they had not spoken since.

But he was here now.

She picked up a handheld mirror and angled it over her head, high enough so she could critique her green leaf-print dress, her apron, the poinsettia in her brown hair, her black lace headband, her black tights, her black moccasins. She started to pose in the mirror, but set it down quickly. She didn’t want Matt to catch her preening.

Abbi went back to the front counter, where Matt had set a bouquet down on the counter. “I like that one,” she said.

“Is it too much trouble to make one more just like it?” Matt asked.

“No, not at all,” Abbi said. “It’ll just take me a couple minutes.”

Abbi took the bouquet back to her bench and started making a second one. It was her favorite Christmas bouquet to make. As she began arranging it, she bounced restlessly on her toes. Her feet were tired, and the bouncing felt invigorating. But she felt her moccasins slipping off her stockinged heels, so she stopped her bouncing, taking a deep breath. Matt’s presence had her so flustered.

She wrapped the new bouquet and returned to the sales counter, setting both the bouquets down in front of Matt. “That was fast,” he said.

“This is my favorite one to make,” Abbi said.

“What are those, centerpieces?” Matt asked, gesturing to a shelf by the counter.

“They are,” Abbi said, walking around the sales counter. “I make so many of these this time of year.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Abbi leaned on the counter and reflexively popped her right heel from her slipper, sliding her toes back to arch her tired foot.

But as she raised her foot behind her to stretch her toes, Matt turned around and caught her in the act. Abbi blushed, freezing with her little foot hovering above her moccasin.

Matt smiled, a smile of recognition. “That’s right,” he said. “You used to wear those clogs in class.”

Abbi was stunned that Matt remembered. She had thrifted a pair of wool clogs her senior year. They were unique and matched her cutesy aesthetic, and they were easy to slip off when she got tired of wearing shoes. By her creative writing class, Abbi was usually feeling particularly restless, and she would fidget with her clogs all class long.

Plenty of times, Abbi had let one or both of the backless shoes skitter out of her reach. Matt was always kind enough to get up and nudge her clog to where she could slip it back on.

“I can’t believe you remember that,” Abbi stammered as she slipped her moccasin back on, feeling ashamed.

“I remember that time when Mr. Johnson was talking too long, and I couldn’t get your shoe back,” he said. “You were stuck in your tights most of the period.”

Matt clearly remembered it pretty well.

“I was so embarrassed,” Abbi said, letting her left moccasin pop just barely off her heel.

“You said you felt more creative that way,” Matt said, looking down as his phone chimed.

“I, um, still have those clogs, you know,” Abbi said, but Matt had pulled his phone from his pocket and was frowning as he texted someone back. Abbi popped her left foot back into her warm slipper.

“Sorry,” Matt said as he put his phone down. “My girlfriend.”

Of course. Of course, Matt would have a girlfriend. Why wouldn’t he? Abbi felt self-conscious of her enthusiasm. She wondered if Matt had caught on.

“Did she go to school with us?” Abbi asked.

“No, we met in New York,” Matt said. “She’s at my parents’ house now. She wants me to pick up a few things for tonight.”

“I should probably let you get going, then,” Abbi said, stepping back around the sales counter. Safely out of sight, she slipped her left moccasin off and rested her stockinged toes on her right foot as she rang up Matt’s bouquets.

“It was really nice seeing you, though,” Matt said.

“It really was,” Abbi said. “Thanks for stopping in.”

“I’m sure I’ll be back,” Matt said, smiling as he picked up the pair of bouquets.

Abbi watched as Matt headed out, sighing as she slipped her moccasin on again. The jingle bells on the door sounded out as the door closed behind Matt.

Alone again with her Christmas music, her thoughts, and the falling snow outside, Abbi took a deep breath as she padded back to her bench and the three centerpieces.

(continues)

(Part 2)

The next day, Abbi found herself preoccupied.

Even as she built floral arrangement after floral arrangement, thoughts of Matt’s visit last night tugged at her attention.

She wondered if he would truly be back.

It was a silly thought. It was a one-sided high school crush. Or was it? Apparently he had remembered her pretty well. But they had grown up and moved on.

Well, at least Matt had. He had a life, a job, a girlfriend a thousand miles away. Abbi felt like she hadn’t matured past seventeen.

She knew that wasn’t true, but her twee aesthetic certainly made her look younger than her age. Abbi wore a white holly-printed dress under her apron, with a sprig of real holly tucked into the big white bow in her hair. Her tights were a rich forest green that coordinated with the leaves on her dress.

And then there were Abbi’s shoes, her favorite black moccasins with the beading on the toes and soft leather soles. They were soft and broken-in, and it was not quite obvious at a glance that they were merely slippers. It was only on errand days that she wore real shoes anymore. The moccasins still looked cute with her dresses, even if they didn’t match perfectly.

But at the moment, they were empty next to her floor mat.

Abbi had slipped them off an hour ago. Her feet felt hot and uncomfortable in her moccasins, and she finally stepped out of them to stretch her tired feet. Freed from her slippers, she was instantly in the zone. She kneaded her little stockinged feet into the memory foam mat beneath her as she wove hemlock and holly into a backdrop for red and white flowers.

Matt was right: Abbi felt more creative when she took off her shoes.

She wondered how Matt remembered. She must have told him, one of those times when he got up and retrieved a shoe that had somehow landed just out of reach.

She could almost hear him saying it: “You lost your shoe again, Abigail,” he would tease as he slid her empty clog under her foot. He always used her full name.

She wondered if he would still be so kind.

Abbi shook her head, bouncing on her toes to distract herself. It had just been nice to see someone she used to be friendly with. That was all. He had moved on. She would probably never see him again.

And across the store, the bells jingled and the door chimed. Abbi stopped her work and stuffed her feet back into her moccasins, padding silently across the carpet to see who was there.

“Hello?” she called.

“Hi, Abbi,” Matt called back.

Abbi’s heart fluttered.

“How can I help you?” she asked.

As she rounded the corner, she saw Matt with a tall and pretty blonde. Matt’s girlfriend looked exactly like she had imagined, exactly like the girls who teased her in high school. She was in a designer trenchcoat with a Burberry scarf, and Abbi felt instantly inadequate.

But she needed to be happy for her friend, she told herself.

“Actually,” Matt said, “I was wondering if you still had some of those centerpieces you were showing me yesterday. Carrie wants to get one for our Christmas party.”

“Oh,” Abbi said. “Of course. They’re still over there. They haven’t been picked up yet.”

“Cool, thanks,” Matt said, dragging Carrie over to see the centerpieces.

They seemed so sophisticated together, Abbi thought as she craned over the sales counter. Carrie was tall already, but she was wearing black leather heeled boots that disappeared under her tan coat. Abbi’s heels had popped from her moccasins, and she balanced on her right foot as she crossed her left foot behind her right ankle. Just looking at Carrie’s boots made her feet hurt.

“You made these?” Carrie asked.

“I did,” Abbi said. “I make everything here to order.”

“That’s so sweet.” It was meant to be nice, but it felt patronizing.

“Which one do you like more?” Matt asked.

“This one looks more expensive,” Carrie said, but Abbi could not see which one she liked most.

“Okay.”

“But then maybe this silver one would be nice after dinner Saturday,” Carrie added.

“Hmm?”

“You know, after we go out, the celebration…”

“Sure?” Matt sounded uncertain.

Carrie looked over in Abbi’s direction. “Carrie Hargrove,” she said. “Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?” She glanced at Matt as she emphasized “ring.”

Matt chuckled nervously. Abbi caught on instantly.

“I guess, let’s do both of those, then,” Matt said to Carrie. He looked up at Abbi. “Would it be possible to get one of each tomorrow morning?”

“Of course,” Abbi said.

“You’re so sweet,” Carrie said, again in that patronizing tone.

Abbi slipped her moccasin on as they came to the counter. She was afraid to even look at Matt, afraid that her interest would show through. Her cheeks already felt a bit warm.

She rang up the transaction for Matt. “What time did you want to pick them up?” she asked.

“Would ten work?”

“Of course,” Abbi said. “They’ll be all ready.”

“Thanks,” Matt said.

“Nice meeting you,” Carrie said in a polite singsong.

“Have a great day,” Abbi said, waving as they left the store.

Abbi kicked off her slippers and walked around the sales counter in her stockinged feet to look at the arrangements again. The floor in front of the arrangements was slightly damp from Matt and Carrie, but she was feeling suddenly too overwhelmed to wear shoes.

Then the door jingled and chimed again, and Abbi froze in a panic, trapped with her moccasins behind the sales counter.

“Abbi?” Matt called.

And then he stepped to the counter while Abbi, stuck in her stockinged feet, stood in front of the arrangements.

“Creative time?” he asked, looking down at Abbi’s feet.

“Kind of,” Abbi said. “I had to take my shoes off for a bit.”

“On that silver arrangement?” Matt said. “You don’t have to put that ribbon on it. Just the arrangement is fine.”

The silver arrangement had a “congratulations” ribbon woven into the design. “You’re sure?” Abbi asked. “Carrie seemed pretty certain.”

“No, I’m sure,” Matt said.

“Okay.”

“It’s not that kind of celebration,” he added.

“Oh.” Abbi wondered if Carrie knew that. She nervously rubbed her left foot on her right foot.

“Carrie is kind of intense,” Matt said.

Abbi felt worried. “I hope she isn’t too upset.”

Matt smiled. “Me too,” he said. “I’ve gotta go. Thank you, thank you again.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Abbi said.

“See you tomorrow.” Matt headed for the door, and the door jingled as Matt walked out, locked arms with Carrie, and headed back down the sidewalk.

Abbi reached down, plucked at the toe seams of her tights to adjust them a bit, and went back to find her slippers behind the counter.

(continues)

(Part 3)

Abbi had promised Matt’s arrangements would be done when he arrived, and she spent all Friday night making them perfect. When she came down from her apartment Saturday morning, she fluffed them out again and added a couple more flowers to fill them out.

She was so proud of them.

Abbi tagged the arrangements and placed them in the display case out front. She stepped back and took a picture with her phone, something she could put online later.

The Saturday before Christmas was one of Abbi’s most hectic days of the year, and she had prepared with extra coffee at her disposal, a good Christmas playlist on her phone, and a few basics she could easily put together if someone asked for one of her Christmas staples.

At her work bench, Abbi did an enthusiastic twirl in her black polka-dotted dress in front of the hanging mirror. A crisp red apron matched with the red bow in her hair and the two poinsettia flowers she had tucked over her right ear. Abbi only wished she had red shoes to coordinate, but instead, her stockinged feet were tucked into her only pair of ballet flats. With all the people tracking in snow, her slippers would be less than ideal on the cold, damp carpet.

Her flats were simple and supportive, and she already wanted to take them off.

So she stepped out of them, tugging her black tights snug before setting her feet on her memory foam mat. She crouched down and turned off her space heater. The flats were making her feet uncomfortably warm. They were really nice shoes. But compared to the slippers she was used to, they felt heavy and cumbersome to walk in.

Abbi stepped back into her flats, wiggling her toes to make sure she was happy with her seams before walking back to the sales counter. She cashed out her early customers, taking orders from one or two who needed something more personalized.

She kept an eye on the door for Matt or Carrie. And sure enough, Matt walked up, holding the door for an older lady as she headed out with a peace lily. He ducked in the doorway without so much as a jingle, though the bells rang out as the door closed behind him.

The store was otherwise empty for a moment.

“I guess I missed the rush,” Matt said as he strode to the sales counter.

Abbi’s feet squirmed in her shoes as she kept her feet planted on the floor. “It’s okay,” she said. “I can use a little breather.”

“Were you able to finish them?”

“Mmhmm,” Abbi said, motioning to the display. She walked around the counter as Matt walked up to his two arrangements, each with the “sold” tag pinned on the front.

“Abbi, these are beautiful,” he said. “You must have spent all night making these.”

“A fair bit of it.” Abbi bounced her left foot in place, the back of her shoe wiggling down her silky heel.

“I really appreciate it,” Matt said. “You do great work.”

“Thanks,” Abbi said, blushing.

Matt lifted the arrangements off the shelf, one by one. Abbi noticed Carrie waiting on the sidewalk, looking impatient as she checked her phone.

“Is everything okay?” Abbi asked in a hushed tone.

Matt looked down at the silver arrangement. “This is her idea,” he said. “She insisted on coming out here for Christmas, to meet my family. She’s been dropping hints for six months. She’s ready to be a fiancée.”

“So she knows.” Abbi slipped her left shoe off and curled the top of her foot against the floor.

Matt shrugged, as much as he could with two floral arrangements in his arms. “She should,” he said. “But we’re really not there yet.”

They stood there in silence, Matt holding two floral arrangements, Abbi with her hands clasped in front of her, nervously rubbing her stocking toes on the carpet.

“She’s waiting,” Matt said at last.

“Merry Christmas,” Abbi said. “I hope everything goes okay.”

“I’ll let you know,” Matt replied with a smile. “Don’t be too creative.”

Abbi looked down at her single stockinged foot. “I don’t love these shoes,” she said. “They’re kind of a lot.”

“They’re cute,” Matt said. “Good luck today!”

“Thanks,” Abbi said as Matt made his way outside.

Abbi gingerly slipped her shoe back on, her cheeks feeling warm. She wiggled her feet in her flats. Her toe seams were twisted in her shoes and it felt uncomfortable. She felt uncomfortable. Maybe even a bit wistful.

But she hoped Matt was happy.

(continues)

(Part 4)

In the end, the coffee lasted all day, as did the Christmas playlist, and Abbi’s supply of evergreen boughs and ribbon. Abbi rarely got to compare right away, but it felt like her most productive Saturday before Christmas ever. In the moment, they all felt that way.

After Matt had left, the day got so busy that Abbi was barely aware of the shoes on her feet. But as darkness fell and the shop slowed down, Abbi’s flats felt heavy and stiff and cumbersome and warm. After her last customer walked out, Abbi locked the door, slipped off her flats, and walked around in her stockinged feet for a few minutes before easing her aching feet into her moccasins.

Later that night, she had tossed the flats back into her closet, none too eager to wear them again.

She had stayed up until midnight preparing for Sunday, making new bouquets and arrangements, restocking her shelves and her refrigerated cases of flowers and greenery. She had texted a couple suppliers with last-minute requests.

And as she opened the store Sunday, she hoped they would respond that more plants were on the way.

Abbi had gone for comfort with her Sunday outfit, choosing a soft gray flannel dress to coordinate with her red apron and the red bow in her hair. She was second-guessing her choice of tights, though; she had decided on a pair of black ribbed knit tights, and while they were cozy and warm, she worried they were a touch too casual.

She wore ribbed tights all the time in high school.

Abbi was back in her moccasins, and she sighed with relief as she padded around the store all morning. The ballet flats were so much more structured, and Abbi preferred the soft slippers that flexed with her footsteps, that conformed to the floor beneath her.

Sunday, too, breezed past. The shelves were growing empty by mid-afternoon, and Abbi could only expect one small delivery Monday morning. It was just as well, she thought as the street lights came on outside. She was exhausted. Her inventory was exhausted. Maybe, just maybe, she would close early.

With no customers in the store to entertain, Abbi leaned on the sales counter and slipped her left foot from her moccasin, rubbing her sole on the toe of her slipper, the leather fringe and beads soothing an itch on the ball of her foot.

And as she thought about taking her right moccasin off too, the jingle bells on the door rang out, and the door swung open with tension, with caution.

“Good afternoon,” Abbi said, hoping to find the last gasp of Christmas cheer in her voice.

“You’re sold out,” Matt said as he peeked from around an almost-empty shelf.

Abbi’s mood lightened instantly. “Hi,” she said. There were other greetings, but Abbi’s tired and flustered mind couldn’t grasp at any of them.

“Hi,” Matt replied, walking up to the counter. “You look stressed.”

“I’m so tired,” Abbi said. “I was going to close up early.”

“Oh,” Matt said. “I can come back tomorrow.”

“No, stay,” Abbi said. “How are things going?”

Matt hesitated. “Pretty good, actually,” he said at last.

“Where’s Carrie?”

Matt swallowed. “I, uh…I dropped her off at the airport this morning.”

“The airport?” Abbi asked. “What happened?”

“We broke up last night,” he said. “She’s headed back to New York.”

Abbi’s heart sank. “Oh, my gosh,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

Matt shrugged. “She blew up last night,” he said. “Said she didn’t come out here to not get a proposal. Said she had to be engaged on Christmas Eve. She said three of her cousins are getting proposals this weekend. That I had insulted her whole family and wasted her time.”

“So she left?”

“She booked the first flight home she could,” Matt said.

Abbi felt so bad for Matt. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. She slipped her shoe back on, wiggling her feet in her moccasins.

“This whole thing was her idea,” Matt said. “She doesn’t like it here. Didn’t want to come here. But then we finished dinner and we were talking with my parents and she was all, ‘so when are you going to ask me?’”

“She didn’t know?”

“She knew,” Matt said. “She just didn’t want to listen. She’s been dropping hints all week.”

“Like the other day?”

“Yeah, like that.” Matt sniffled, then shrugged his shoulders. “So yeah.”

“Are you okay?” Abbi asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be good,” Matt said. “I pulled over after the airport and had a good cry. But I think she wanted the drama.”

Abbi walked to the shop door and turned the lock, flipping the “open” sign around to “closed.”

“Should I head out?”

“No,” Abbi said. “Stay.” She hoped she didn’t sound too desperate, too forceful. “Please.”

“Thanks,” Matt said.

They stood there for a moment, Matt at the sales counter, Abbi halfway from the counter to the door, neither saying anything. Abbi shifted in her moccasins. She had a question for Matt, but she was unsure of how to word it.

“What made you come here?” she asked, instantly regretting it.

“Because I don’t have many friends here,” he said. “And I knew you would listen.”

Abbi nodded solemnly. “Of course,” she said. “Always.”

“Thanks, Abbi.” Matt smiled.

Abbi smiled back.

But as Abbi stood there, she shifted again in her moccasins, easing her heels from her black slippers one at a time.

“You look uncomfortable,” Matt said.

“My feet are so tired,” Abbi confessed.

“Didn’t you used to have those same shoes in high school?”

Matt remembered a lot about her shoes. And suddenly, Abbi felt the giddiness of their first encounter bubbling up. “Um, kind of,” she said. “Those moccasins had a sole.” She stretched her right foot out, rolling her shoe to the side and flexing her foot to show off the worn leather sole. “These are slippers.”

“You’ve been wearing them every day,” Matt said.

“They’re my security blanket,” Abbi said. “I love them so much.”

“They’re cute,” Matt said.

Abbi blushed. “Wait!” she blurted. “Stay right here.” She stuffed her foot back into her slipper and bolted for the stairs to her apartment.

Matt laughed. “You locked the door,” he said. “I can’t go anywhere.”

Abbi’s steps were soft but forceful as she bounded up the stairs. She kicked the slippers off as soon as she got upstairs and padded in her stockinged feet to her closet. It only took her a moment to find what she was looking for. She slipped into her high school clogs and hurried back downstairs, holding the railings in the narrow staircase, hoping she could keep the backless shoes on her feet.

“The door’s only locked from the outside,” Abbi said, out of breath as she reached the final step, her shoes still in place. “I wouldn’t lock you in.”

Matt had stepped around the sales counter, so he could see Abbi as she stepped into the room.

“Those are the clogs,” he said.

“Yeah,” Abbi said, feeling self-conscious and excited at the same time. They were simple shoes, made of black wool with a flat cork sole. They were warm on her feet, just the slightest bit loose with her ribbed tights. They were not particularly comfortable shoes, though, and she wanted to slip out of them already.

“You used to wear them all the time.”

“They used to feel cozy,” Abbi said, nodding.

“And you used to play with them so much.”

“I couldn’t help it.” Abbi slid her left foot back, her soft heel brushing the raised edge of the back of the clog. She thought of her writing class again, of subconsciously slipping in and out of her clogs. She played with them in other classes, too, but her habit felt safer there.

Abbi sat down on a bench that was usually stacked high with supplies. She stretched her legs out in front of her and slid her feet from her clogs, resting her black-stockinged toes on the heel cups.

“You can’t help it now,” Matt said.

“They used to be comfy,” Abbi said, wiggling her toes.

Matt walked closer and sat next to Abbi. “You still couldn’t keep them on most days,” he said.

Abbi shrugged. “This feels so good, though,” she said, rubbing her stockinged feet together above her empty clogs.

“You’re cute,” Matt said.

Abbi blushed.

They just sat there for a moment, Abbi rubbing her tired feet against each other, Matt not saying a word.

“What are you doing tonight?” Matt asked.

“I don’t know,” Abbi said, resting her heels in the backs of her clogs with her toes resting atop the black felt. “I’m almost out of flowers.”

“I have tickets to a Christmas concert tonight,” he said. “I wondered if maybe you’d want to come.”

“Okay,” Abbi said instantly.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Abbi looked at her soft ribbed feet. “I should probably change, though.”

“You’re wearing a dress,” Matt said. “You could change the shoes.”

“But you’re all dressed up,” Abbi said as she stuffed her feet back into her clogs. Matt was wearing a long wool coat, slacks and loafers. He was ready for a night on the town; Abbi felt like she was dressed for a night at the bookstore.

“You’ll be fine,” Matt said.

“But I want to change,” Abbi said. “Wait right here. I’ll only be a minute.”

“The door’s still locked,” Matt said, laughing.

Abbi ran up the stairs, almost tripping as her clogs slid around on her feet. She kicked off the backless shoes in her bedroom, barely letting the door swing shut as she wriggled from her flannel dress. She had the perfect outfit for a winter outing. She had found it years ago, but she had never had the opportunity to wear it.

Tonight seemed perfect.

She changed into a red plaid dress she had found at a vintage boutique while she was in college. The dress had a modest neckline with puffy three-quarter sleeves, a matching bow belt, and a flowy skirt that fell just below her knees. She rolled down her dark tights and pulled on a pair of bright red tights to match the dress. She posed in the mirror, wondering if the red tights were too matchy. But she really wanted to wear red tights, and they were so soft and warm.

Abbi looked in the mirror, and admitted she was not dressing up for herself.

She cinched the bow belt tight around her waist, then looked at the floor of her closet. Her moccasins were too informal for a Christmas concert, and it was too cold for the satin ballet slippers she wore in the summer. Instead, she reached for a pair of tailored black low-cut loafers with a two-inch block heel. They were her mother’s shoes, and the only heels in Abbi’s closet.

She stepped carefully into the loafers, her soft feet gliding along the smooth and shiny insoles as her tender toes found the tips of the vintage shoes. Abbi posed again in the mirror. She had not worn the shoes in a few years, maybe even longer. They were a size and a half too big, and as she bent her left knee, her heel popped out of the loafer easily.

She would have to walk carefully.

Abbi grabbed her black wool coat and held the railings as she descended with care from her apartment. Though the shoes were too big for her, they were narrow for a girl who wore slippers most of the time, and they felt tight on her toes as she landed each step. It was too late to change shoes now, not that she had a better choice. She hoped she could make it through the evening.

She would have to walk very carefully.

Matt was standing there as she emerged from the stairwell. “You’re very red,” he said.

“Yes,” Abbi said. “I just need a flower and I’m ready.”

“A flower?”

“I can’t not wear flowers,” she said as she walked to her workbench. She felt unsteady in her heels as she found a poinsettia and some baby’s breath and wove them quickly into a barrette. She clipped the flower just above her left ear and straightened her hair bow.

Then she pivoted on her toes, feeling her heels pop from her shoes as she twirled in Matt’s direction. “How’s that?” she asked.

“You’re adorable,” Matt said quietly.

Abbi felt her cheeks flush again.

(continues)

(Part 5)

They dimmed the lights and locked the doors on the way out of the flower shop, with Matt locking arms with Abbi for the short walk to the theater. However unsteady Abbi had felt inside her shop, she felt even more nervous as her shoes slid around on her silky feet on the snowy, icy sidewalk. Matt was a foot taller than her and had a long, relaxed stride, but he had slowed his pace to keep up with Abbi as she struggled.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not used to heels.”

“It’s okay,” Matt said. “We have plenty of time.”

With smaller steps, they made their way to the theater. Matt bought two hot chocolates in the lobby, and they stood there for a moment sipping chocolate and warming up inside. Abbi felt tense as Matt led her to the balcony stairs, but she managed not to lose her shoes walking up the two flights. At the top, an usher pointed down another hallway, and Matt led Abbi to their seats, a pair of padded chairs in a private box at the end of the balcony.

“You didn’t tell me this was so exclusive,” Abbi said as she took off her coat and draped it over her chair.

“It’s not that fancy,” Matt said, laughing.

“I feel fancy.” Abbi took another sip of her chocolate, setting it on the counter in front of their chairs.

“You look fancy.” Matt draped his coat over his own chair and sat down.

“Awww, thank you.” Abbi sat down next to Matt and crossed her right leg over her left knee. Her loafer slipped off her heel and swung from her toes, catching her off guard. She contorted her toes in her shoe to keep the loafer from falling to the floor.

“Those shoes look way too big on you,” Matt said.

“They are,” Abbi said, reaching down and putting her heel back on all the way. “They’re my mom’s shoes. They’re a size eight, and usually I wear a six and a half.”

She let go of the heel of her loafer and it slipped right back off her foot, but Abbi kept it from falling to the floor, the shoe dangling delicately from her red-stockinged toes.

“Are they comfortable?” Matt asked.

“Not really,” Abbi said. “I’m not used to heels, and they’re very narrow, so they hurt my toes.”

“So why did you wear them?”

“Because I don’t have any other nice shoes,” Abbi said, uncrossing her legs and stretching them out in front of her. The loafers dangled easily from her toes, exposing her soft red heels.

Matt laughed.

“Besides, you’re taller than me,” Abbi added, folding her left leg back and crossing her right leg over her left. This time, she let the loafer slip off her heel and into a more controlled dangle.

“I’m almost as much taller if you wear flats,” Matt said.

Abbi’s dangling loafer felt heavy on her toes after a while, but as she curled her toes ever slightly, the shoe slipped free and landed in front of her on the ground. Matt reached down and picked up her fallen shoe, taking a careful look at it before setting it back on her waiting toes.

“These were your mom’s shoes?” Matt asked.

Abbi nodded. “She let me have them in high school.”

“You take good care of them.”

“I hardly ever wear them,” Abbi said with a shrug. She let the shoe fall to the floor again, but this time, she uncrossed her leg and reached for it with her foot, dragging it close to slip it on again.

The house lights dimmed, and the band filed onto the stage to a round of applause.

Matt leaned closer to Abbi. “My nieces are playing flute and clarinet,” he whispered as the first song began.

“Oooh,” Abbi replied.

Abbi tucked her legs back against her seat. Without anything to talk about, her thoughts spiraled into anxiety. The whole thing had happened so fast. Was Matt’s relationship with Carrie over for good? Why did he really come to the flower store? Had he wanted to ask her to the concert all along? Did he really think of her as a trusted friend?

She looked over at Matt, who was watching his nieces below with pride. He looked over at her and smiled. She smiled back.

Was this more than just friendly? Did he, maybe, like her?

Abbi slid her feet back and forth in her shoes, the fidgeting calming her nerves ever slightly. Her toes still felt cramped, so she arched her feet and popped her soft heels out of the loafers. She swung her legs forward a foot, pointed her toes, and let her loafers slide off altogether, then swung her feet back to her seat and crossed her ankles.

She still felt alone in the dark with her worries. But at least her feet felt better. She rubbed her feet together, her soft tights feeling heavenly as she curled her toes up into her sole.

She wondered if Matt had seen her take her shoes off in the dark. She glanced at Matt. He looked back and smiled again.

Abbi’s feet were still sore, so she pointed her toes to touch the carpet, then rolled her feet forward into a ballerina stretch, the tops of her toes curled against the floor. The tension burned in her ankles, in her arches, in her calves, but as she held her pose, the burning mellowed into a calming warmth in her tired feet.

As they applauded a song, Abbi crossed her right leg over her left, flexing her red-stockinged foot up and down, twirling her pointed foot in a circle.

Matt leaned in close as the next song began. “Your shoe’s missing,” he whispered.

“My feet hurt,” Abbi whispered back.

She leaned forward, reaching to knead her dangling foot before sitting back in her chair. As she rested her hand on the arm of the chair, she felt Matt’s hand close around hers. She glanced at him and he smiled back again.

Abbi pointed her toes again as she bounced her foot in the air. Maybe he was giving her an answer.

They were still holding hands when the house lights brightened for an intermission. As they applauded the band, Abbi thought about slipping her shoes back on, but she glanced around and decided that with the privacy of their own balcony box, she didn’t have to.

Matt got up after a few minutes, standing at the edge of the balcony. Abbi stood up, too. She carefully stepped over her heels, padding in her red tights to the railing, standing next to Matt.

Matt looked over at Abbi, then down at the floor. He smiled. “Your feet must really hurt,” he said in a hushed voice.

She nodded. She felt nervous, but this time, it was more giddiness than anxiety. “I’m never wearing those shoes out again,” she said.

“Or are you just feeling creative?” Matt asked.

Abbi laughed. “I really do feel more creative when I take off my shoes,” she said. “You should have seen me the other night.”

“I can see you right now,” Matt said.

Abbi blushed, smiling shyly. She curled her toes into the carpet to make her shoeless feet look smaller. At last, she giggled nervously.

They stood there for a few minutes, Matt clasping his hand over Abbi’s on the railing, saying nothing. Matt was gently petting Abbi’s hand, which she liked; it was subtle but intimate. It was a more-than-just-friends gesture. She popped her right foot behind her, scrunching her toes before spreading them against the carpet.

Eventually, the house lights dimmed and they sat back down for the second half of the show. Abbi folded her right leg into her chair first, then sat down on her stockinged foot with her left leg stretched out in front of her. Matt gave her outstretched foot a glance as he leaned closer. Abbi looked at Matt and smiled. He smiled back. For the next forty minutes, Abbi played with her discarded loafers while she and Matt enjoyed the show.

At last, the house lights came back on and everyone stood to applaud the band one last time. Abbi unfolded her right leg and foot, but her foot had fallen asleep, and she stood there balancing on her left foot as she made circles with her ankle to get her right foot moving again. Matt had already started to put his coat on, so Abbi braced herself on the railing and slipped her left loafer on, still trying to wake up her tingling right foot.

“How are you doing?” Matt asked.

“My right foot fell asleep,” Abbi said.

“Are you gonna be able to walk home in those shoes?”

“Carefully,” Abbi said with a nervous laugh, gingerly slipping her right shoe on again.

“I’m actually a little hungry,” Matt said.

“Me, too. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Matt smiled. “You’re not too tired still, are you?”

An hour later, Matt and Abbi were sitting by a fireplace at the tavern next door. Busy as it was, they had slipped in at just the right time to snag two cozy chairs by a fireplace. Over a platter of chicken tenders and nachos and two glasses of red wine, they caught up on years of life. Matt told Abbi about college, about why he had moved to New York City. Abbi opened up about her mother’s cancer, about putting college on hold to take over the flower shop.

Abbi, of course, had slipped off her shoes as soon as she got there, tucking her feet under her in the overstuffed armchair. But as the crowd thinned, she unfolded her legs into view. She sat facing Matt with her left leg demurely crossed over her right, dangling her red stockinged foot. She felt so self-conscious at first, but in the quiet tavern, her shoelessness had an audience of one.

She took a deep breath. There was something she had been curious about.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

“Sure,” Matt said.

“What was the big celebration last night?” She bounced her dangling foot nervously.

“I didn’t even tell you.” Matt’s face brightened.

“You don’t have to answer,” Abbi blurted apologetically.

“No, it’s good actually,” Matt said. “So I told my family last night that in two months, I’m moving back here.”

Abbi’s heart skipped a beat and her foot froze in mid-air. “Back…here?”

“Yeah,” Matt said. “New York is so expensive, and I’m working fully remote anyway, so I don’t have to be there. And my parents are getting older. So I decided to move back here. It’s way more affordable, and I’m closer to Mom and Dad if something happens to them.”

“That’s so exciting!” Abbi said. “They must be so happy.”

“They are,” Matt said. “I’ve been planning this for a while.”

“Well, welcome home,” Abbi said.

“I’m looking forward to being back,” Matt said. “Especially after this weekend.”

“This weekend?”

“Well, yeah.” Matt looked at Abbi, looked into her eyes.

Abbi was afraid to ask the question. “Me?” she mouthed.

Matt nodded.

It was the answer Abbi had hoped to hear. She felt lightheaded, infatuated.

Matt patted the edge of his chair cushion. Abbi instinctively stretched out her left leg and propped up her foot where Matt had just patted. It took a moment before she realized what she had done.

“Oh, hi,” Matt said, looking down and waving at her toes.

“Hi,” Abbi said coyly, wiggling her toes back. She stretched out her right foot, tucking her toes between the cushion and the chair itself.

“Are your feet still sore?”

Abbi nodded. “A little,” she said.

Matt cupped his hands on either side of her left foot. “Can I?” he asked.

Abbi had never had a foot rub before. “Um, yes,” she said.

She felt Matt’s hands close around the sides of her left foot. She trembled with anticipation. She felt the warmth of his hands through her tights, and as his fingers pressed into her foot for the first time, even though she was braced for it, Abbi gasped audibly.

“Did that tickle?” Matt was so considerate.

“No, no,” Abbi said. “I’m sorry.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No.” Abbi shook her head. It was actually the best feeling she had ever felt, but she was afraid to say it. “It, um, it felt nice, actually.”

Matt kneaded her toes again, his warm fingers tenderly squeezing the ball of her foot. He was being purposely gentle, but it felt so good on Abbi’s foot. She clasped her hands together, trying to remember to breathe in and out as his fingers danced on her virgin foot.

“Abigail, your tights are so soft,” Matt said. He used her full name.

Abbi was speechless. She simply nodded.

Matt’s fingers worked their way up her arches and soles. “Does that feel good?”

She nodded again. It felt heavenly. Her right foot felt ignored, so she rubbed her foot against the chair, her toes still stuffed deep under the cushion Matt was sitting on.

He gently caressed her little foot, then returned it to the chair cushion and took her right ankle in his hands. He guided her foot from under the cushion, then kneaded her right foot too, stretching and bending her toes, rubbing her sole and heel.

“Oh, my goodness,” Abbi finally managed to whisper as Matt rested her right foot on the cushion next to her left.

“That felt good?”

Abbi still had a hard time with words. “Um, mmhmm,” she mumbled as she rubbed her feet together.

“Those are, like, the softest tights ever,” Matt said, flexing his hands before petting the top of Abbi’s feet.

“I love them,” Abbi said. “They make my feet so cozy.”

They sat a while longer, Abbi keeping her feet perched on Matt’s chair, Matt stroking her wiggling feet as they talked. The more he touched her feet, the less she wanted to put her shoes back on. Abbi was pretty inexperienced, but she never thought something could feel so arousing. Maybe that was why she liked it in high school, too.

Matt and Abbi were the last two guests as someone came by to snuff the fireplace. Abbi put her coat on before gingerly stepping into her heels. “These are coming off at the door,” she said, laughing.

“I don’t blame you,” Matt said, buttoning his own coat.

They walked arm-in-arm down the sidewalk, Abbi taking careful steps to keep her shoes from sliding off. “Can I tell you something?” she asked.

“Sure,” Matt said.

Abbi snuggled into Matt as they walked. “I had a high school crush on you.”

“Really?”

“Mmm.”

“You never said anything back then,” Matt said.

“I didn’t know what to say,” Abbi said. “I thought you would never date a girl like me.”

“Even though I kept giving you your shoes back?”

“I was so flattered,” Abbi said. “But I never knew what to say.”

“Honestly, you didn’t have to say anything,” Matt said. “You were so cute when I’d put your shoes back on.”

“Most of the time I just wanted to take them off again.” Abbi felt her cheeks glowing with warmth again.

“A lot of times, you did.”

“That’s why I wore my clogs so much.”

“You didn’t wear them much, actually,” Matt teased.

They reached her store, and Abbi unlocked the door. As soon as she stepped inside, even before she turned the lights on, she walked out of her loafers. Matt stepped over them, following a shoeless Abbi to the sales counter as they unbuttoned their coats.

In her little red stockinged feet, Abbi was almost a foot and a half shorter than Matt. She felt like a Christmas doll. She looked up at him. “Thank you for tonight,” she said.

“No, thank you,” Matt said. “This is exactly what I needed.”

“Me, too,” Abbi said.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Closing early, I think,” Abbi said. “Maybe I’ll go to Christmas Mass. I usually just stay in.” She laughed. “I don’t think I’ll wear shoes.”

Matt leaned down and kissed Abbi on the forehead. She closed her eyes as Matt hugged her close. They stood there for a minute or two.

“Good night, Abigail,” Matt said as he headed for the door.

“Good night, Matthew,” Abbi said as she waved good night.

(continues...one more)

(Part 6)

Sunday night was like a fairytale. Abbi had retired to her apartment that evening walking on air. Her mother’s loafers were quickly tucked back in the closet, maybe never to be worn again. She danced around her little apartment in her red stockinged feet, feeling a nervous energy she had not felt in years.

She couldn’t sleep, so she stretched out on the couch to read a book, rubbing her feet against the arm of the sofa, wishing Matt were rubbing her feet again.

The complicated feelings of the last few days, it seemed, had been justified.

And whenever she got to see Matt again would not be a moment too soon.

But she still had a half a day of work to get through before Christmas Eve. She couldn’t imagine keeping the doors open much past noon; the last few days had wiped her out of evergreens and flowers and anything she needed to make seasonal decorations. A gracious vendor had dropped off a half-dozen poinsettias that morning, but that was all they could offer.

So since it was a retail day, Abbi had dressed up a little more than her practical, functional usual. She wore a long-sleeved black blouse with a shimmery silver satin skirt that ended just below her knees. An ivory faux fur shawl was draped over her shoulders, coordinating with her off-white cable-knit sweater tights.

And against her better judgment, Abbi had worn her wool clogs again. They were still uncomfortable, but they made her think of high school, of losing her shoes in creative writing, of Matt gently slipping her wayward clogs back on her little feet. She had been dipping her feet in and out of them since she got downstairs.

She was practicing for Matt.

Abbi still wondered about Matt’s closing words. Was she just a fling, a convenient friend when he needed someone to comfort him? Abbi told herself she was fine with that. But then she thought of his gentle hands on her feet, of his soft kiss on her forehead, and she wanted more of that, too.

He hadn’t said he would be back today. But it was, after all, Christmas Eve, a time for family.

Abbi watched the clock as she played with her clogs, watched the last of her arrangements and bouquets find new homes, watched the last poinsettias leave the shop. One lonely poinsettia remained on the shelves as the clock ticked ever closer to noon. Nothing said she had to close by noon, but she also felt weird staring at the door hoping for Matt to show up.

As if on schedule, the door swung open with a jingle, a draft of cool winter air sneaking in. Matt walked in the shop, a smile on his face.

“Hi,” Abbi said, her spirits buoyed.

“Hi,” Matt answered as he walked up to the counter.

“Can I interest you in a poinsettia?” she asked.

“Why a poinsettia?”

“Because if I sell it, I can close for the day.”

“I don’t know,” Matt said, his hand scratching his chin as if he were pondering a purchase. “I was really looking for a Christmas cactus.”

“I don’t have any cacti,” Abbi said, pretending she were disappointing him.

Matt stepped around the counter, and Abbi turned to face him. “I said something last night,” he said. “I was afraid you might have taken it the wrong way.”

Abbi felt her anxiety bubbling up again. It had all been a fling. Or he was still in love with Carrie. Or he had changed his mind about moving home.

“I guess I kind of had a crush on you, too.”

Abbi blinked in surprise, dipping her right foot out of her clog.

“And I wasn’t really confident in myself, and so I didn’t say anything then. And I wish I had.”

“I, um…” Abbi paused, feeling flustered but in a good way. “I really liked what we had last night.”

“Me, too,” Matt said. “I don’t want to move too fast, Abigail, but I really like you.”

Abbi clenched her hands in front of her, trying to contain her nerves. “I like you, too,” she said in a near-whisper.

“So I was hoping you’d spend Christmas with me and my family.”

“Oh, my gosh.” Abbi’s worst fears disappeared, only to be replaced by her innate shyness, the prospect of meeting Matt’s whole family in only a couple hours. “Would I be imposing?”

“Of course not,” Matt said. “They love company. And I kind of told them about you already.”

“About me?”

“That we used to know each other in high school. That we reconnected in the past week.” Matt took a deep breath. “I didn’t exactly say we were dating or anything.”

“Okay.” Abbi slipped her clog on again. “I would love to.”

“Just one thing,” Matt said. Without another word, he took Abbi by the waist and lifted her into the air. Abbi’s left clog slipped off her foot and tumbled to the floor as Matt turned and set her atop the sales counter. Abbi was still in shock as Matt leaned in and kissed her on the lips, embracing her in a hug. Abbi closed her eyes and hugged Matt back.

Abbi was pretty sure it was the first time she had ever made out with someone.

As Matt withdrew from their embrace, Abbi felt her right clog slipping down her foot. Matt quickly grabbed her black wool shoe and eased it from her little foot. “I don’t think I ever got to take your shoes off before,” he said, setting the clog back on the floor.

“I’m pretty good at that part,” Abbi said.

Matt took Abbi’s little off-white feet in his hands and kneaded them gently. “These are soft tights, too,” he said.

Abbi nodded. “They’re super comfy,” she said. She tried not to get lost in his caress, but her feet had been craving it all morning, and she felt so good when he touched her feet.

“I brought you something,” Matt said, reaching inside a gift bag he had carried in. He carefully pulled away the tissue paper and removed a pair of silver ballet flats. They had rounded toes topped with an oversized bow, and the smooth silver finish almost perfectly matched the pewter shade of Abbi’s satin skirt.

“Awww,” Abbi said. They were adorable.

“I found them at the thrift store,” he said. “I thought you’d appreciate that. And they’re only one size too big.”

He slipped the silver shoes over Abbi’s soft sweater-knit feet before giving her another kiss.

“I actually wore the clogs for you,” Abbi admitted, letting the shoes pop off her heels.

“Don’t worry,” Matt said. “There’ll be plenty of time to wear your clogs.”

He helped her down from the sales counter, Abbi losing her right shoe as she stepped down. She slipped the ballet flat back on, sliding her foot back and forth in the shoe. Matt was right; they were a little big on her little feet.

“These are perfect,” she said. “Thank you.” Her heels popped from the shoes as she stretched on her tiptoes to give him a kiss.

Abbi ran upstairs to grab her coat and purse, the new flats feeling comfortable on her feet for her first few steps. She glanced around her apartment, the place she had spent her last few Christmases. One by one, she slipped her flats off to adjust her soft tights, then slipped them back on before heading downstairs.

Matt picked the bag up from the floor, and Abbi noticed that it still made a soft thump on the counter as he put it back down. “Is there something else in there?” she asked.

Matt nodded. He reached into the bag again and pulled out a pair of off-white fur-lined moccasin slippers. “Just in case,” he said. “Mom likes us to take our shoes off in the house.”

Abbi said nothing, but stretched up again and kissed Matt on the cheek.

Hand in hand, they walked out of the shop together, Abbi barely pausing to flip the sign to “closed” and lock the door on her way out.

(fin)