The Red Shoes on Juniper Hill

Basil Moreno had repaired shoes at the top of Juniper Hill for forty-one years. His shop was small and smelled of leather and glue, and a brass bell rang every time the door opened.

On the first Saturday of every month, the bell rang for a girl named Pia. She was about ten, with a green backpack and a serious face, and she always carried the same pair of red shoes. They were old-fashioned, with a narrow heel and a tiny silver buckle, and they were far too big for her.

"The buckle is loose," she said in March.

"The heel is scratched," she said in April.

"They need polish," she said in May.

Basil fixed each small problem carefully. At first he charged her a few coins. Then he noticed how she counted those coins slowly from a paper envelope, and he started saying,"No charge today. Old shoes deserve a little kindness." Pia always thanked him, looked around the shop as if she were memorizing it, and left.

By summer, Basil was curious. Who wore these shoes? Why did they need a visit every month when they never seemed to be worn?

In August, Pia came in and put the red shoes on the counter. Nothing was wrong with them. Instead, she placed a folded note beside them.

"My grandmother asked me to give you this," she said.

Basil unfolded the paper. The handwriting was shaky but neat.

"Dear Mr. Moreno, you made these shoes for my wedding in your very first year. I was your first customer. My knees can no longer climb Juniper Hill, but every month I send my granddaughter so I can hear that your bell still rings and your lamp is still on. Thank you for looking after my shoes, and for looking after my Pia. Please stop refusing her coins. She has been saving them for you. With gratitude, Ilse."

Basil read it twice. Then he laughed, a little wet around the eyes. He remembered a nervous young woman, a tight budget, and the shoes he had worried about for weeks.

"Tell your grandmother," he said,"that the bell still rings. And next Saturday, I am closing early."

"Why?" Pia asked.

Basil took his coat from the hook."Because this time," he said,"the shoemaker is coming down the hill."