Chapt 1
Brown paper flew into the air as Brigit O'Connor ripped into the box. She dug until she found the smaller shoebox inside. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the lid, and let out a shriek.
"Oh, em, gee! They are PERFECT!"
She stroked a finger along the honey-colored leather and slapped her hand flat against her chest. The hand-worked hide was as soft as cotton with no marks or discoloration at all.
Brigit reached into the box and gently lifted out one of the fitted boots. The darker brown accent leather was the perfect complement to the lighter honey leather of the body of the boot. The toe was pointed nicely as per the latest fashion, and the lacings up the back gave it a classy but rustic edge.
The vamp of the boot was supple, almost stretchy leather, perfect for holding her foot in its buttery leather grasp. The top was the darker leather, designed to give a slouched look to the leather as if it was baggy and relaxed.
There were several lines of peek-a-boo patterns, showing the dark brown leather through the honey cream vamp in stars and crescent moon shapes. The detailing was so fine, Brigit could barely tell what the pattern was until she drew the boot to her face to smell the leather.
And the smell was perfect, too. Dark and musky, bringing images of rugged cowboys and high-end car seats. It filled her whole head with a warm feeling.
Brigit squealed with glee and spun in a circle. Katy had told her that buying - no, investing - in such expensive shoes just to write an article was foolishness. But Brigit was confident that her review of the little-known Italian shoe manufacturer would shoot her into the upper circles of fashion writing.
It had been a near-miracle of chance that she'd stumbled on the little shop while on a five-day tour of Italy, a graduation gift from her parents. It was one of the few times she'd gotten to travel outside of the Five Burroughs. She hadn't grown up rich, just comfortable.
When she'd been separated from the tour group at the Piazza San Marco, or St. Mark's Square, she'd decided to explore the tiny side streets rather than go back to listen to the boring Mass in boring Latin in boring St. Mark's Basilica.
Ok, the Basilica had been pretty sweet, with gold and statues everywhere. It was Byzantine style, which meant it had the funky pointed dome roofs, like the Taj Mahal. But the church part had been full of people, with a vaguely musty, watery smell, and the whole experience had been a bit stuffy.
So, Brigit had decided to go get a gelato and got lost instead. She spotted the leather gladiator sandals in the narrow window of the shop and walked in without hesitation. Gladiator sandals had been so on fleek at the time.
She'd been crushed to learn how expensive the shoes were, but she'd bought a coin bag just to have something. Then she'd asked for the shop-keeper to wrap it. The man, at least as old as her father, had scowled, but searched out a small box, stuffing some old papers into it.
The box had had the mailing address for the shop on it, from a received shipment. The paper had been shredded, but she found a phone number on one. Several years later, those silly little bits of information had paid out like a winning lottery ticket.
Brigit grabbed up the second boot and hugged the pair to her chest. Her brain suddenly registered the extra weight, and she scowled down at it. She set down the lighter boot and turned the remaining one over, shaking it firmly. A brownish creature, around six inches long, fell from the boot with a loud plop.
Brigit screamed, "A rat!" and stomped her foot down as if to crush it, though her knock-off pumps landed several inches short of the target.
The creature shifted around and stood up on its hind legs. Not hind legs, regular legs!
"Che cosa? Who do you call rat, mia bella?" The creature brushed off its knees and straightened a small, brown hat perched on its head.
Brigit tried to squawk and gasp at the same time, and spent several long seconds choking. Finally, she coughed out a response, "D-d-did you just... talk?"
The creature, which Brigit could now see was a perfectly proportioned, if husky, man with dark brown hair and an olive complexion. His black eyes stared up at her, and she noted he wore brown pants and vest with a cream-colored shirt. The hat’s brim and the brown color-scheme of the outfit gave the creature a rodent-like look at first glance.
He straightened up and nodded sharply at her. "I did, and ze regine fate curse me for ze sin." He wobbled a little, then continued. "It is two weeks in zat box, mia bella. Could I beg some water?"
Brigit stared at the man in shock as he promptly fell over, sprawled on his back.
Chapt 2
For two days, Brigit fed the little creature broth and juice with an eye-dropper, just the way her mother had taught her to do with baby birds. She made him a bed from an over-stuffed throw pillow and her grandmother's heavy woolen shawl, which had been collecting dust draped over a corner of her sofa. She considered taking him to the vet or the doctor, but she couldn't decide which was the more appropriate choice, and instead just fretted over him.
By the time the weekend was done, she'd simply set the pillow on the sofa beside her and talked to the unconscious... whatever he was, while watching her favorite shows. In her concern for him, she'd completely forgotten her new boots.
When she went to work on Monday, she stared at him after giving him some drops of broth, then set out the only food in her fridge - a big slice of honeyed cornbread from the steakhouse she had delivered for her supper the night before. She hoped it would be okay for him if he woke up while she was gone. After all, for all she knew, he ate worms or grass.
Brigit burst through the door with her arms full. There was a lovely faux-Thai restaurant down the street, and she couldn't get enough of the peanut sauce that came with the crab Rangoon. Her eyes immediately went to the sofa where she'd left the pillow, and they widened in shock.
The pillow was gone. The shawl was gone. The creature was gone.
Brigit dropped the bags on the kitchen counter and searched the open floor-plan apartment with awe. She wasn't terribly messy, but she didn't get as much time to clean as she would like. However, her apartment was sparkling clean.
The shawl was hanging on the corner of the sofa again, looking decades newer. Even the small hole that she'd gotten in the habit of picking at while watching reality shows had been repaired. The plate she'd left with the cornbread was missing, and she found it in the dish rack next to the sink. The pillow was sitting against the arm of the overstuffed chair, looking particularly fluffed, its distinctive little ink stain gone.
"What the..." Brigit murmured. "What happened here?"
"Caio, bella!" called a small voice near her feet.
Brigit jumped and clapped her hand against her chest. "Holy crap! Don't do that!"
She took a deep breath and stared down at the little man, who was looking much more... rosy. His eyes sparkled even more than the first day she saw him, and his cheeks were almost red, like a girl who had gotten into her mom's makeup and went overboard with the blush.
"I did not wish to frighten you," he said. She realized his face had taken on a serious expression. "I only wished to say... grazie."
"Oh," Brigit said. "Well, um... what for?"
The little man cocked his head to one side. "Are you not ze one who took care of me? Fed me broth? And then you left me ze most gracious gift of..." his eyes lost their focus, and his voice dropped into something almost lustful, "honey!"