*
"Shoes?"
Marshal looked up from a pair of silver heels. "Sure. You can't wear your boots with a dress like that." We had already stowed the gown in the back of the car. He held up the silver heels with a smile. "How about these?"
I arched an eyebrow. "You're kidding."
"What's wrong with them?"
I took one from him and motioned to the heel. "Three inch heels? How can I walk in that without toppling over forwards?"
Marshal laughed. "Okay, okay." He put them away and then reached up for another pair of shoes. "What about these?"
"They look like something I would wear to bed."
Marshal smirked. "They're called ballet slippers." He motioned to the bench behind me. "Here. Let's try them on."
I sat and unlaced my right boot to pull it off and set it aside. Marshal slipped the contraption onto my foot and then took both my hands in his.
"Come on. Stand up. See how it feels."
I stood--I blinked down at my foot in surprise. I looked at Marshal. "It doesn't feel like I have anything on."
He smiled and gave my hands a squeeze. Then he focused on the sales clerk. "Sir, we'll take these."