Walking through Seattle, I saw the first happy face produce signs I’ve ever seen since writing Pauper’s Pumpkin Patch. In that short story, Cindy painted the sign for a produce stand, and made fruits and vegetables with happy faces. This is a stunning example of such jollity – on Rising Sun Produce! I’ll be adding it to the story posting, just setting these here first.
[I like releasing short story over Medium, but this needs a little push, so it’s coming out here first after airing for a couple reading audiences.]
In another place, in another time, Cindy Pauper had a small bio-organic no-till permaculture produce garden and orchard, in a corner of the Halcyon Realm. She ran a neighborhood pumpkin and gourd patch in the fall – not the biggest, but many claimed the most beautiful. She used the same fancy-lettering sign each year that read, “Pauper’s Pumpkin Patch.”
A single woman business owner, she relied on good community connection to keep her business thriving. She helped her widowed stepmother raise her two younger daughters, in the house she grew up in with her father. Cindy lived in her own earthen cottage, closer to the garden. She had designed and built it herself with the help of friends.
It was a custom in the Halcyon Realm to bring champion produce to the castle, to present to the royal family for pride of honor. The custom in turn was that the royal family lived on this first and foremost. Cindy had an amazing pumpkin yield this year – not only were they gigantic and blemish-free, they radiated vitality and robust perfection; they were delicious and would keep well, from hardy land-race stock, bearing many seeds. Everyone agreed that one of these simply had to go to the castle. So, Cindy put her name on the list for the next agricultural audience.
Prince Benedict of the Halcyon Realm was starting to think about family. He’d earned his reputation in beneficial politics around the world and in the Realm, feeling that he’d taken proper action for his people and for the future. He might even soon be ready for fatherhood – but he knew that it would be asking something mighty of anyone to take his partner’s seat, have family, and rule the realm well together. He looked at potential partners differently now, from attractive dignitaries to various distinguished leaders, wondering who the people and his heart might accept. Just the other night he’d held a social event where he strengthened friendships and allegiances, but hadn’t felt any kind of spark. Not that it happens for trying, but that special someone could be anywhere.
On the day of the farmer’s audience, Cindy’s neighbor came over with the flatbed cart to transport her and the prize pumpkin. It sat upon a special rolling pallet that Cindy made. As she was hurrying to meet the cart’s arrival, one of her wooden clogs – her only pair of outdoor shoes – suddenly broke in half on a regular stone in the ground. She met her neighbor at the pumpkin, holding her broken shoe.
Cindy’s stepmother came to help them load up the pumpkin. She offered her own shoes for use, but they were too big for Cindy, who was likely to trip in them. They had to go, so Cindy just grabbed her fuzzy fur house slippers. These were made from rabbit skins her father had hunted and tanned. She had lovingly maintained and resized them over the years, adorning the mends with scrap ribbons and colored thread. They might look foolish in the castle, but no less foolish than in her stepmother’s shoes. Her neighbor had an important appointment afterward, so they would have to leave right after Cindy presented the pumpkin.
The Prince sat with his parents, the King and Queen. Farmers entered the sunny hall with their most remarkable specimens. Last but not late, the doorman opened the other side of the double door to assist the pumpkin farmer and her friend. This farmer was young, and very pretty, wearing cutoff overalls and some sort of fur booties. Something about those fuzzy slippers struck Prince Benedict to his core, and the Prince raised a hand to his heart as she raised a hand to her brown hair still done up in braids. He snuck the list out of his father’s hand and took over the calling portion of the ceremony, stating that audiences would be called in order of door entry.
The farmers were already arranged accordingly, Cindy Pauper and her pumpkin staying right where they were. It was a really amazing pumpkin, practically shining there. When Prince Benedict looked at her, he decided it was safest if he gazed on her shoes. They looked so soft. She was patient and pleasant. The farmer next in line to her already knew her, and they traded comments on some of the produce and as it was presented. Was it his imagination, or did her eyes shine a little when she looked at him? His father was shrewdly observing his behavior, harrumphing a reminder when the Prince’s eyes rested too long on that particular small farm entrepreneur. She looked like his kingdom – his country! She made him feel at home in an entirely new way. Before he called her up, the Prince announced that he would be holding a meet-and-greet afterward in his salon, next to the garden.
Cindy Pauper deeply wished she could attend the garden greet, as much for professional reasons as anything else. She had not known that the Prince would be this handsome. He was well-spoken-of… politically, which was why she’d been of a mood to bring them her best. That was one thing to hear, and another thing to see. People had really encouraged her into this.
When he called her name, Cindy stepped up to introduce herself, her small garden CSA and pumpkin patch, and then the pumpkin itself, which she named Splendour. She handed a small booklet of recipes and preservation preparations to the Queen, who was well known for this hobby. She recommended the plentiful seeds to their farms and vaults, also handing them a care instructional. The King and Queen smiled and nodded often. The Prince was on the edge of his seat. He watched Cindy escape the moment her audience was concluded, which is when the general audience was concluded as well.
The cart zipped off with its passenger, unburdened of its treasure. Cindy sighed and mentioned, “Prince Benedict is holding a greeting session next to their garden, and if we have any time available, I would love to go even for just a little.”
“Oh Cindy, I would like to grant you that but we’ve been waiting on a cow for so long, and we finally have everything ready and they’re holding onto this one for us. It’s going to make a huge difference for our family, I just cannot imagine missing out this time.”
“Oh, you’re right. I’m happy for you and the kids, and so grateful that you could even spare the cart for this today.” That was when she looked down and saw one slipper missing off her feet, which must have happened when she hopped in. No going back for that, either, with the daylight they had left.
The Prince strategically milled people through the same exit Cindy Pauper had used. Outside, he immediately glimpsed Cindy’s furry slipper on the edge of the road, though there was no trace of the woman or any vehicle. He could see that all the ribbons and colors of thread were different, and that the very soft fur was aged but clean. He went over, picked it up, and thought three things:
After this meet-and-greet I just promised, he thought as he tucked the fuzzy bootie into one of his large coat pockets. Tomorrow, when he would have the day to find her. It was due time for some country visiting. He turned and gave his attention to the people around him, not explaining the moment and taking them onward. As he socialized, he made sure to talk to anyone who talked or nodded to Cindy, and they would magically find a way to drop a generous word about her and her farm. Her pumpkin was a top point of discussion.
Cindy Pauper lived one county over. Prince Benedict took his chariot to the county office first, but there was no ownership registry for the name Pauper. As the Prince went to exit without finding what he was looking for, the entry clerk said, “I remember that cloth.” He was pointing to a ribbon on the fur slipper sticking out of the Prince’s coat pocket. “Those were wedding favor kerchiefs, at the Pauper place.” Oh, was she married? Maybe the property was registered to her partner. “Nearly thirty years ago, but I still have mine. Sidney Pauper and Sharon Cherry. That was a golden time. Some party.”
“Does a Cindy Pauper live there?”
“Cindy… that would be their daughter. I think she moved out on her own.”
“She brought a magnificent pumpkin to the castle. I wish to personally return this slipper to her, which I believe she left in haste. It looks like an irreplaceable item.”
The clerk smiled. “Perhaps you can find word or whereabout at our Farm Hall. Mr. Pauper was a farmer, Cindy might be too. They lived at the end of the longest lane,” he said pointing vaguely. “Though the roads are different now. Better, your highness. Now most of the roads are longer than they were and connect to other places. I haven’t actually been to that part in a while, not since the roads were named. Many thanks to your family for the trade routes, and keeping them nice.” The Prince returned a gracious gesture as he departed.
He arrived at the Farm Hall with the furry, beribboned slipper sticking further out of his coat pocket. When he walked inside, a young boy ran up to him, pointing. “That’s Cindy’s slipper,” he said, “it’s not supposed to go outside the house!”
“Well, she herself actually left it at the castle. I’d like to return this to her.”
The boy’s mother came over, saw his dress ranking, and recognized him. “Goodness, it’s the Prince! You’ve come looking for dear Cindy?”
“I go to her house sometimes,” the boy exclaimed, “and I help dig!”
His mother nodded. “She gets along very well with young Neil. Your highness, I would like to thank you for your libraries initiative. We get so excited when new books arrive. In fact, Cindy helped install the shelves. There’s one right over there,” she said, pointing to a sign that said Farm Hall Library.
“Cindy read us the Munchy Munchy Caterpillar,” young Neil exclaimed.
The Prince was feeling a little lightheaded. “So, where do I go to bring this to her home?”
“She still lives on the old property on Lovers Lane, past the creek. Though, you’ll have to walk out back unless she’s in the house with her sisters.” The Prince turned to exit, remembering to sketch a bow at the door, which they returned but he barely saw.
The tree at the corner of Lovers Lane had grown so well that it was obscuring the signage, so the Prince went three roads too far before growing suspicious. At that moment, he saw a produce stand and stopped there to talk.
“Ah, you’re looking for Cindy’s place? We’ve got some of her apples here, very sweet Pink Ladies!” The Prince bought a dozen for the chariot’s sack. “It must be because of the huge black walnut tree at the corner. Might be time to build some furniture out of that. Her pa planted it, Ol’ Sid. He was like my big brother, and she’s like a lil’ sis. She painted my sign, too.” The sign was pleasingly exuberant, with happy-faced fruits and vegetables. Prince Benedict smiled back at them. “I can cover this up for a moment and guide you back to Lovers Lane.”
The grocer took his pony, and the Prince followed in his country chariot. The grocer pointed past the black walnut where the Prince could see the sign from the other side. As he waved the Prince onward, he yelled out, “Thank you! Fair Prices For Farmer’s Wages!” He was referring to the market stabilization the Prince had helped with a few years back. Prince Benedict smiled and waved as they parted.
Lovers Lane was incredibly beautiful, brimming with flowers and trees. There were homeful houses and well-designed food environments including orchards, fields, and gardens. The Prince sighed, and heard a tinkling trickle of water. A rill crossed the road here, and he wondered if this is what passed for a creek. It had a housing to run under the road.
He went to the next gate on the right. Inside, a blacksmith was at his foundry with an apprentice. When he saw the Prince, he handed the bellows to the apprentice, a muscled and powerful-looking girl of young teenage years. “Wow,” he said, “Are you the Prince or something?”
“I am the Prince,” he replied.
The blacksmith let out a jolly whoop. “What an honor! How can I help you?”
“Is this where Cindy Pauper lives?”
“Oh.” The smith picked up a bell and rang it at the foundry. The girl set aside the bellows and dusted herself off on her apron, coming toward them. “This is Cindy’s sister, Rena.” Her hair was darker than Cindy’s, her build very square, face differently shaped. They could be assumed of more distant relation. She smiled wide and stuck out her hand, then appeared unsure if she’d done the right thing. The Prince accepted the handshake.
“Rena Mendez. Stepsister. My mom was her late dad’s second wife. He was really cool, and so is she.” Everywhere a good word in support of her, even from her little sister. “We don’t live here, though. I come here for my apprenticeship. We’re out past the creek, further down.” That was when Rena noticed Cindy’s slipper in his pocket and pointed. “Hey, you found that? She was really missing that.”
Prince Benedict touched it lightly and smiled. “So, that wasn’t the creek I just crossed?”
“Goodness, no,” replied the smith, “but Cindy and Rena did help me lay that pipe into the road.”
Prince Benedict extended a hand to the girl. “Would you kindly ride with me in my chariot and show me the way to your home, so that I may personally deliver her slipper with my highest regards?”
She turned to her teacher. “Can I go?”
“You can go.”
“Sure! Your highness.”
They soon arrived at the creek, which was framed by a well-aged and well-maintained stone bridge, with lovers’ initials painted onto the rocks. Another mature black walnut grew majestically to the right of the bridge on the other bank. “Take the lane past the tree there,” Rena said. “You’ll have to park this at the house first before you can go any further in.”
As the chariot slowed into the clearing, Rena’s mother came out of their house, an old fashioned medium sized log cabin. Wonderingly, she said, “Rena, to what do we owe this honor? Excellent fortune, I hope?” She was nervously polishing a glass.
“No,” said Rena, hopping off the chariot, “or yes. He’s here to see Cindy.”
Through the open door an even younger girl came out, barely of reading age. She had some of Cindy’s features, and was also clearly her mother’s child as she leaned on her. “Cindy’s my sister,” she murmured.
“This is Zena,” said their mother, “and I’m Avena.” Behind her, the chimney puffed smoke warmly. The woodpile near the house was well stacked. The sun was dipping closer to the horizon. The Prince took Cindy’s slipper out of his pocket slowly, wanting to explain yet now reluctant to part with it. Avena looked at it, and him, nodding with understanding. “She’ll be glad to have that back,” she said with a soft smile, “We’ll show you the way to her place further in.”
“I hope you like dogs,” said Rena. “Trumpet might be a little loud, but he’s actually really nice.”
“I love dogs,” said the Prince truthfully. He went with them around the back toward a pasture fence.
“How about horses? Roamer is usually somewhere around the cottage,” asked Avena cautiously.
“I tend to agree well with them,” he replied. As they neared the gate, dog and horse appeared, both looking old but loved. The dog Trumpet, a hound, bayed exuberantly, sniffed toward the slipper, and licked the Prince’s coat once. The old stallion whickered, “Hm-hm-hm-hm-hm,” bringing his nose toward the Prince’s hand. Prince Benedict stroked his muzzle, and Roamer blinked and sighed. “That’s a good introduction.”
“You can go in through here. Take the path through the alders to her cottage on the other side. She might be in her garden just beyond.”
Bird chirped overhead as he passed through the alders. Trumpet and Roamer followed him. The earthen cottage on the other side was a stunning work of art with colored windows, delicious curves, and natural details. He had just practiced knocking on the door when he heard singing, presumably from the garden. It was an enchanting melody in a voice that made him ache.
He followed the footpath around the side to where a kitchen garden lay next to the resplendent pumpkin patch, in a field over a dell awash in sunset. Prince Benedict focused on the voice and he saw her there, barefoot, tending seedlings in a cloche with a watering can. He brought forth the slipper and suddenly fell to one knee when Trumpet announced him with a blaring bark.
Cindy turned from the last of her watering to see the Prince kneeling at the edge of her garden, her fuzzy slipper held out before him. Thrilled about the slipper and flustered by the Prince, Cindy wiped her hands on her overalls and went straight to him.
Before she said anything, he spoke from where he knelt. “I thank you so much for your gracious gift, of the pumpkin, Ms. Cindy Pauper. You left your slipper at the castle, and so I have come to return it to you. All the people I’ve met along the way have sung your praises – you’re kind, giving, hard working, ingenious, joyful, knowledgeable, and your family name is as good as gold. I am humbled in the paradise you’ve created with your own hands, here in my realm. Will you date me?” Prince Benedict remained kneeling throughout, his intent gaze upon her face.
Cindy lifted a hand to her heart and a wrist to her forehead. Feeling faint, she sank to a seat on the ground in front of him. With both hands, she relieved him of the fuzzy slipper, cradling it against her. He sat on the ground facing her, and this time she spoke first.
“My family, my business, my community, and this realm are safe and thriving because of the work you’ve done. I brought you my prize pumpkin because I’m already a great admirer of what you do and how you’ve done it. And, you’re gorgeous. Yes, I’ll date you.”
Their initials soon joined the others on the stone bridge across the creek. When, miracle of miracles, they celebrated their union, folk from every neighborhood cheered the pair. Cindy kept her house and farm at the Pauper place, where the Prince made his refuge; and there was a seat for Cindy everywhere in the castle, where she also made a home, bringing her fair, honest, and gentle sensibilities to the throne room. There, her name was given a dignifier, and she became known far and wide as Cinderella.
[Eva L. Elasigue CC-BY 4.0 Creative Commons]
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Found later, in Seattle:
Author Eva Lisa Elasigue 