"Freddie," she said with a kind smile. "Do you know what I do for a living?"

He shook his head. He was about to say, "I thought you were a widow," but then he realized that wasn't a job and also it would sound really rude.

"I've tried to keep it to myself," she said. "The neighbours don't know."

"Don't know what?" he asked.

With a prideful grin, she said, "You're looking at one of the highest-paid foot models in the city!"

It took a moment for Freddie to piece together what he'd heard. "Foot... model? Like a model, but just your feet?"

"That's right." She wiggled her toes in front of his face. "My feet are my livelihood. I have to take special care of them."

"What kind of care?"

"Regular foot baths, lots of lotions, but it gets awfully tiring applying them by myself. I wonder if you wouldn't mind rubbing that coconut butter on for me?"

He gazed at her feet, which were raised in front of him. "But they look perfect already."

"Aren't you sweet!" She winked at him. "Do it anyway."