I remember when Grandmother Viv and my mother, Marie, took me shopping for new sandals. It was hot; it had been blazing for at least two weeks. I made a big deal of this fact when Mother said I could just go barefoot when home from school, it was nearly summertime, and I was a nature girl so calm down.

“But the sidewalk and pavement hurt me feet, it’s getting almost steamy! They’ll get blistered!” I loudly complained because, though they might not exactly blister at just 75 degrees, it had begun to bother the soles of my feet–they’d been covered all winter– and before long it would get worse. Besides, I was itching for new stuff after growing over a couple of inches since last year.

She was looking at an order sheet, tapping her lips lightly with her pen. “Unlikely, Steph, never saw your feet blistered. But the solution for that is to not stand around on a hot sidewalk or street in the heat of day. Sit on the front porch. Walk in the grass. Try the patio out back, it’s covered. And your feet will get more used to going naked.”

I rolled my eyes. “Bare, not naked. Bees are out, you know they zoom in on me,” I countered. “I have to keep on guard, go where they won’t crowd me.”

Mother sighed in that way that told me she was being worn down a bit. That I could be a nuisance and she was busy, so back off a little. She got busier each day from what I saw. She had told me there were increased orders for her pen and ink drawings ever since she’d set up a table at the Spring Lake Art Fair. It was her second year and there were many more choices for art lovers; it had worked out well.

“Besides,” I said, making my case stronger, “my old ones are beat up and too short.”

I figured if I fussed about their appearance this could move her closer to taking me shopping.

“Well, bring them here.”

Bingo.

I ran up the staircase, raced to my bedroom and rummaged in the closet until I had the beige leather sandals in hand. They’d been worn so hard that the straps were cracked a bit, the dye faded. I put them on; my toes hung over the edge about a half inch. In the long mirror on my closet door, my feet looked ridiculous below cropped jeans. I ran downstairs where Mother was addressing a wrapped and matted picture to someone.

I waited until she was done, then stood right in front of her. She looked at me, distracted, until I pointed my two index fingers at my feet.

Her left eyebrow rose in a high arch; her eyebrows could say more than words. “I see the issue. Unsightly. Not useful. We’ll have to go shopping.”

“When?” I presisted.

She ran her fingers impatiently through short wavy hair. “Let’s see when Grandmother Viv has time to go, she’d like an outing with us.” She turned away but I stood there a long moment so that she half-turned back. “What now, Steph?”

I gave her a crushing hug, then ran back upstairs to remove the offending sandals. I bounced heavily on my bed. Success! I thought I did well considering I had just turned ten and too often lost battles of wills. For one thing, Father thought kids’ things should be worn until they were stained beyond recognition or fell apart. But he’d left on a business trip earlier so he was no problem for awhile. Lucky for me–this time.

“Despite working hard to provide for you, my son is a diehard penny pincher. You simply must not give up at first refusals, dear,” Grandmother Viv had once instructed me. “Your Grandfather Wade was the same way, so I became a master negotiator on my own behalf. Watch and learn, child!”

Whatever a master negotiator was. Persuasion took time for me. My mother didn’t do anything special, really. She made lots of decisions without asking my father. They usually stuck even if he got grumpy.

The nest Saturday morning we picked up Grandmother Viv. The big May sky was a luminous blue, the breeze cooler and noisy birds were excited about everything. She slid into the front passenger seat–I was in back, of course. She’d brought into the car the perfume of lilacs. I took a deep slow breath to inhale all the fragrance I could. She usually smelled like her garden, “different flowers for different seasons, dear, that’s the way to do it– even when you wear perfume”. Since our yard had fewer flowers but more bushes and trees, I loved that about her place. Though her corner brick house was not grand, it had huge front and back gardens overflowing with blooming plants. It was heavenly to wander around. I imagined that was why she was usually in a good mood–how could you not be at her house? The inside had greenery and bright colors, too. Not like our modern house with big windows so that sunlight slid over and changed nooks and corners–the rooms felt quiet and a little mysterious, not so bursting with life or busy with interesting items.

Grandmother Viv was colorful in lots of ways. “Dramatic”, Mother said, but people liked that about her. I noticed she wore a soft green jacket and matching skirt with a blouse covered in pleasant looking bees. I avoided stinging insects, even on clothes.

“I suppose you’ll want to go to Macy’s, Viv,” Mother said as she navigated her car expertly through narrow streets. “Or is it Nordstrom’s?”

They usually didn’t ask me where to shop; I didn’t pay the bill.

“We are going to lunch afterward, aren’t we?”

Mother looked back at me quickly and I nodded. “I imagine so,” she told Grandma Viv. “That means Nordstrom.”

I knew my mother wanted to go to the Indian shop downtown where they sold woven sandals for grown ups, too, or maybe the shoe store where everything came from Europe so were fancy and expensive. But she was practical about me. I hadn’t gotten old enough, tshe thought, to fuss over clothes. I had preferences–certain styles or brands like my friends– but in reality I liked to dress simply. I could have gone to JCPenny’s or Target. Except my feet were hard to fit. Even sandals could be tough.

“Steph has a high arch, narrow heel, don’t even try a medium width. She’s got feet like mine,” Mother had emphasized to a sales woman more than once, extending a leg so the person could acknowledge her challenging foot.

I thought my mother’s feet were quite beautiful; I wouldn’t say that about mine. But they were narrow, so we had to pay more for shoes. My father complained when he realized the cost–“She’ll grow out of them in four months!” he moaned. But he admitted well made shoes even helped posture and energy; he certainly wore fine shoes.

I wanted to look good, if not fancy. I was willing to see what they had in mind, but I wasn’t going for anything fussy or delicate.

When we got there, Grandma Viv took charge. It’s how it always is when we shop together. She knows what’s in or out, what’s a good deal. She hurried in the right direction, examining things on the fly, ignoring sales people. I liked that she knew just what she needed, enjoyed being with us and happily offered to share costs.

I don’t like that she doesn’t agree with me as often as Mother does. I can end up with an item that is useless to me– I won’t wear it unless I see her. My mother also changes around her; instead of bossing anyone even a little she waits to see what Grandmother does. But then tends to side with her, I guess to keep peace since she married her son. “Your father is an only child, the toughest sort of husband to have,” Mother complains, but with a hint of a smile.

Grandmother Viv does have good taste, we all agree. A bit too adventurous, at times, for my mother. Which is odd because she is the artist.

“Why don’t you throw some paint on your walls or onto your prints? You’re too good to be just black and white,” suggests my grandmother.

But her daughter-in-law shrugs at that. “I do what comes naturally to me; you do what comes to you.”

Grandmother wandered over to the display with sandals that had wedge heels and turned them over in her hands. I dodged her and headed to the sporty sandals made of leather or rubber. I needed the kind that stayed on well when I climbed trees, went cycling or rode horses in the summer at Kipplings Ranch or on the beach. I grabbed a pair in each hand and looked for Mother but Grandma Viv spotted me. She offered green and blue striped wedges and a beige leather pair with coral leather rosebud attached to a narrow strap. I masked a frown by holding up a brown leather pair– free of frills–and the rubber soled ones.

My mother stood by, raising both eyebrows, nodding slightly at me, then Grandmother. It was hard to say what she meant but she knew what I liked.

“It’s time you had shoes that are more attractive. More dressy. Prettier!” Grandmother said.

“But you know she like sneakers and sporty attire, Viv. So she needs summer sandals for outdoor activities.”

I forced a smile. I noticed Mother had no sandals in hand; she’d been drifting through displays. I stated my size when the saleswoman asked, then returned with boxes. I tried on my first pair. “Perfect,” I said, pulling straps snug to ankle and heel. “I like this brand.” I walked about in them. “Feel good, look good. Right?”

I studied them in the mirror. Classic rubber-type trail sandals with strong navy and grey patterned straps. Sturdy, lightweight. I walked faster around the area and felt like my shopping was over. Time to pay, then eat.

Grandmother Viv did not agree. “Those are fine, sure, but try these on.”

The wedges. I put them on and walked wobbily from seat to mirror. They pinched my toes and were too wide at the arch. Those refelcted feet were not mine. Ridiculous. Did she want to make me into a crippled princess? Too late. I scanned the room, hoping no one from school was there to see me make a fool of myself. I took them off and walked back barefoot.

“No, they hurt and are hard to walk in,” I said.

“Yes, we saw–but they’re kind of cute on you,” Mother said to my surprise. “I know they aren’t your style.”

“Next pair!” Grandmother Viv ordered, but sweetly.

As I fastened straps of the leather rose style, I told myself next year I’d take alowance savings and slip away to buy sandals alone or with a friend. No interference! Then I stood and looked down. The leather rose was smaller than I’d thought and they felt alright. I gave them a trial run up to the mirror, and they were sturdier than imagined. Peering at both feet lightly hugged by a spare leather design with a bright flower, I felt more grown up in them. I toured the floor, pausing for views in other mirrors. Finally I flopped into my chair, stuck my legs out, clicking my heels together.

It was then I saw Sarah, an older classmate, watching me. She sat down across the room and waved. I lifted a hand in return. I felt the dual shadows of mother and grandmother hovering, studying choices, confabbing.

I hoped she wouldn’t come over.

“Weird. But not all that bad,” I muttered and took off the unique flower sandals.

A pair of feet came into view before I sat up straight. Bare feet, purple toenails: Sarah. I looked up with a little laugh.

“Hey.”

Sarah said, “I was looking at those. They have different kinds and colors of flowers to choose. I like your coral ones though maybe pink ones are better for me. What do you think? Oh, nice trail sandals.” She gave a “thumbs up.”

My family quieted and Sarah glanced at the grown ups. She sat down and leaning closer, whispered. “I like Tevas but the other ones are good, too, yeah? I’m getting wedges for dressier outfits. ” Her shoulder bumped against mine. “Get what you like, Steph, you always look cool. They don’t quite get it, right?”

“Yeah, for sure–thanks,”

She went on her way and I made up my mind. “I’ll take the trail sandals, please.”

“And the attractive leather ones, too, dear,” Grandmother Viv stated with a nod.

“They do look lovely on your feet, don’t you think?” Mom said.

“Well, not sure when I’d wear those…maybe?…” True enough, I did like them. I just didn’t like them making me feel I had to like them.

“Good,” Grandmother said and took both boxes to the cashier.

But they weren’t done. They had in mind summery clothes for all: a semi-sheer ruffly floral top from Grandmother Viv, two pairs of cropped pants for Mother in surprising bright aqua and ocean blue, shorts and tank tops for me plus two sundresses “in case you go to outdoor concerts again this year or just want to wear them.”

I might, who knows? One small change at a time. We’d see how those sandals with roses held up, I was most excited to take more mountain hikes with my friends and family.

“A big salad and iced tea are seriously needed, girls!” Grandmother Viv linked her arm in my mother’s as we stood in line to get into the roof top cafe. “We completed the mission with flair and good sense!”

“Exhausting…” I said. “Time for a garden burger with a pile of truffle fries.”

Grandmother Viv made a face of mock horror. “Cheeseburgers go with truffle fries!”

“Unless you prefer vegetarian foods.”

“Oh, my dear. Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for all that!” She turned to the hostess. “Table for three with umbrella on the patio, please, by the azaleas. Yes, we’ll wait for that one.”

“Thank goodness, we can breathe fresh air again!” I said. “I thought I’d suffocate if I had to shop one more minute…”

Mother laughed, put an arm around my shoulders in a quick squeeze. “Still, well done, Steph. You’re set for more adventures this summer.”

I knew she meant sorting out my options, as well as handling the grown ups involved–the women who tried hard to guide me. Who pushed and prodded me but not without cause. Usually. She meant, too, that she loved me for who I was, and who I might become. That I was growing up a little more.

“Let’s go, girls,” Grandmother urged and we aimed for the perfect table.

It was to be that kind of summer, when everything seemed more wide open and brilliant and I believed anything good could happen. And often, it did. And sometimes it happened with my busy, modern art mother and my showy, flower-adoring grandmother. Lucky for me. Lucky for us.