If the Shoe Fits

It happened on a Saturday morning, summer bright and full of promise. It took Lucy a moment to understand that what she was hearing- a quick rap, sharp and commanding- was a knock at the door, not part of a dream.

“Uhhh,” she mumbled, squinting in the morning light. She fumbled on her beside table for her phone- 6:01 AM. There it was again, no more urgent but just as insistent-- all business. Lucy stumbled out of bed, and on her way to the door called out, “Who is that?,” as loudly as she dared.

There was no answer; Lucy peered through the peephole. She could see a woman, early fifties, with no-nonsense hair, nice but unremarkable clothes, and sensible shoes. She had a slightly frazzled look about her. Great. A social worker. Lucy had turned eighteen months ago, and hadn't had services since. What was a social worker doing at her door? At this hour?

Lucy yanked the door open when she saw the woman lift her hand to knock again. No sense in waking up the roommates. Maybe this woman had something to do with one of them? “Ah Lucy, excellent, it is you.” No such luck. “Glad I didn't get one of the roommates,” the woman beamed a cheerful smile at Lucy and peered around her, looking into the apartment. “Well, are you going to invite me in? We really must get started.” Lucy automatically took a step back, allowing this strange woman to enter the apartment. Lucy might have been more cautious had she been more awake, but she did not feel afraid, and curiosity was beginning to take the place of annoyance. In fact, another feeling was inexplicably creeping up on her: anticipation. There was, suddenly, a feeling in the air which was difficult to describe. It was the kind of atmosphere that causes thumbs to prick, and hair to stand on end. Lucy absentmindedly ran her hand down one bare arm. Goosebumps.

The woman was looking around the apartment with approval. It was tidy, due mainly to Lucy, who found a strange sort of calm in cleaning and keeping things just so. “Who are you?” Lucy finally managed to ask. “I am a friend who has your best interests at heart,” the woman replied with a bright smile. “For now, you may call me Ms. Jane,” and she held out her hand for Lucy to shake.

As they shook hands, Ms. Jane peered around Lucy's shoulder again and said, “The kitchen looks homey and private enough, shall we sit down with some tea and get started?” The British accent registered with Lucy for the first time. “Uh, sure,” she said and led the way to the kitchen. Lucy put the kettle on and began the search for some tea, a dozen questions racing through her brain. Ms. Jane cleared her throat and said “I'm sure you have a dozen questions racing through your brain right now, and you'd probably like to know how I know you.” Lucy started ever so slightly. Eerie, but, she told herself, still within the realm of coincidence.

“Myself, and several other ladies, are part of a Society of sorts- The Society of Benevolent Ladies. We take an interest in young people who are in situations like yours.” Lucy was settling the tea bags in their mugs, but now she turned to face her visitor. “Situations like mine?” she repeated, one eyebrow raised. “Yes, young people without parents or proper guidance, or youngsters who are in situations like the one you were in with your aunt and cousins.” Then, more softly, “I am sorry I couldn't come to you then.” For a brief moment, pain at the memory flashed across Lucy's features. She looked vulnerable and so very, very young. The whistle from the kettle broke in loudly. Lucy turned to attend to it, grateful for the distraction.

She joined Ms. Jane at the table. As soon as Lucy was seated, Ms. Jane reached into her bag and pulled out two slim, black notebooks. She gave one to Lucy. It was hardbound, with a slightly textured cover, held shut by a black band. Lucy began to undo the band but stopped when she was interrupted by Ms. Jane. “Not just yet, my dear,” she said, her hand slightly raised. “I told you I have your best interests at heart, as do all of the Ladies,” she paused to take a sip of tea, and grimaced slightly- too hot, no milk, but it would have to do. “As such, we would like to gift you a small sum of money,” Lucy's eyes widened at this. “But, there are some rules we must discuss first.” Lucy's face took on a guarded look. What would she have to do, she wondered, to earn this so-called help? She bit her tongue and waited. “It is nothing like that,” Ms. Jane said. “It's not transactional, we just want you to succeed.” Eerie and definitely not a coincidence.

“We would like to give you $20,000,” said Ms. Jane. Lucy let out a gasp. “I thought you said it was a small sum of money,” she said. Ms. Jane laughed, “In the grand scheme of things, $20,000 is a small sum of money.” Now it was Lucy's turn to laugh, “Lady, you've never been poor.” “Well,” said Ms. Jane, “Large or small not withstanding, we really must go over the rules. You may open your notebook.” Lucy opened the book and ran her finger down the ivory page as she read the rules, written in neat, black script:

1. All transactions exceeding $200 must be cleared by the FG assigned to the case.

2. All funds must be spent by midnight of the day received.

3. The recipient may only give away a maximum of $2,000.

Lucy looked up at Ms. Jane, a mixture of surprise and curiosity playing across her features. “Midnight? I only have until midnight?” she asked. “That is an unfortunate rule, but yes, I'm afraid that is all the time you have,” Ms. Jane replied. Six o'clock in the morning suddenly made more sense. “What happens if I have some leftover?” Ms. Jane shrugged and said apologetically, “I'm afraid you lose all of it. Everything you've bought, anything you have left. It's all or nothing.” “I see,” said Lucy. “What is the FG?” she asked. Ms. Jane twinkled at her. “That's me,” she said, “The, uh, Funds Giver.” Lucy expected to be irritated about this condition but, to her surprise, she was not. “So what, you're going to follow me around for the day? Do we exchange numbers? Can I text you?” Ms. Jane smiled and tapped the notebook in front of her. “That is where the notebooks come in,” she said. “Record any large purchase you're thinking of making in your notebook. It will appear in mine and my approval, or my thoughts on the matter, will appear in your notebook next to the entry. You can contact me with any questions or thoughts, anything at all, really, through the notebook,” Ms. Jane finished.

Ms. Jane glanced down at her watch, “My goodness, it is almost 7:00. We both must get going.” She stood up. “That's it?” asked Lucy. “That's it. Best of luck! I look forward to seeing what you'll get up to,” Ms. Jane waggled the notebook at her. “Oh, and before I forget,” she handed Lucy a fat envelope. Lucy peered inside and saw two thick stacks of $100 bills. When she looked up, the kitchen was empty. Looking back on that morning, Lucy never could be sure if she'd actually heard the door open and close, or if Ms. Jane had simply disappeared.

“Holy cow,” Lucy whispered to herself. “Twenty thousand dollars.” She glanced at the clock. Time to get going.

The day went by in a whirlwind. Before long, a comfortable back and forth established itself between Lucy and Ms. Jane. By 10:00 a.m. Lucy had a car, solid and dependable, and an excellent bargain, thanks to Ms. Jane. The cost of the car, plus taxes, fees, and insurance had used up almost half the funds. By 11:00, she had a new phone, an expensive one, although Ms. Jane had convinced her to stick with her cheap monthly plan. “Tomorrow will come,” Ms. Jane had written.

By noon, she and Ms. Jane had had a sharp exchange about Lucy's sort-of boyfriend whom she wanted to include in the day. “No,”Ms. Jane had written, “This day is about you.” Lucy took a break for lunch, and, partially out of defiance, spent an extravagant amount of money at one of the fanciest restaurants in town. Afterwards, she went to her favorite ice cream shop and got the most expensive sundae on the menu. At both places, she left big tips. Under $200 required no approval, after all.

She sat outside with her ice cream and took out her notebook. “Ms. Jane,” she wrote, “Can I buy a plane ticket for a future date?” “Yes,” Ms. Jane had replied. “Where do you want to go?” Lucy chewed on the end of her pen for a moment, thinking, and then wrote “Everywhere.” Lucy could hear the smile in the reply, “And so you shall, my dear, all in good time.” Lucy soon had passport photos and a ticket to Paris in hand. It seemed like a good place to start.

By evening, Lucy had a new laptop, a new bed, and a new wardrobe which included several fantastic pairs of shoes- an indulgence Ms. Jane had happily allowed, much to Lucy's surprise. Thanks to some rather pointed hinting and gentle urging from Ms. Jane, she had also enrolled in community college and pre-paid for her first semester. Lucy had initially rolled her eyes at the suggestion. “Lucy, Rome wasn't built in a day. Plan for tomorrow; build your own kingdom.” After that, Lucy contacted one of her only friends, talked her into enrolling, and paid $2000 towards her tuition. “A worthy cause,” wrote Ms. Jane, “Well done.”

An hour before midnight, Lucy took out the notebook. She lingered over her favorite exchanges- gentle, chiding, full of warmth and humor, and, in every back and forth, Lucy could now clearly see what Ms. Jane had promised that morning: Lucy's best interests, and a desire for her success, were in every message. Ms. Jane, and perhaps the whole Society of Benevolent Ladies, believed in Lucy. It occurred to Lucy, as she leafed through the pages, that the notebook had been the best thing about the day. The notebook that recorded this one day in her life- this day that felt like an entire lifetime- was what she most wanted to keep. She took out her pen, turned to a new page, and began to write:

Dear Ms. Jane,

How much does the notebook cost? I only have $254 left, but I would very much like to keep it. Also, will I ever see you again? Will the notebook still work after midnight?

-Lucy

The reply was instant.

Lucy, my dear, turn around.

There was Ms. Jane, sensible shoes and all, beaming an approving smile. “So few ask that question, Lucy, but we had a feeling about you.” Lucy looked at her, puzzled. “We had a feeling that you would fit in with us. Would you like to learn more? Step into our shoes, so to speak?” Lucy was quiet for a long moment. “You can continue with all the wonderful plans you've set in motion today, of course,” Ms. Jane said, “But if you keep the notebook, your life will never be normal again. Do you understand?”

Ms. Jane had been watching Lucy closely during the exchange. Bewilderment, hope, confusion, but then, the expression she had been waiting for appeared on Lucy's face: Joy. “I understand,” Lucy said, smiling. “Good,” Ms. Jane nodded in approval, “Then let us begin.”