BooksBarbecue
Back The Shoe Queen
Chapters (67)
  1. Cover
  2. “And may I say, those shoes are adorable.”
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. ( I )
  7. ( one )
  8. ( two )
  9. ( three )
  10. ( four )
  11. ( five )
  12. ( six )
  13. ( seven )
  14. ( eight )
  15. ( nine )
  16. ( ten )
  17. ( II )
  18. ( eleven )
  19. ( twelve )
  20. ( thirteen )
  21. ( fourteen )
  22. ( fifteen )
  23. ( III )
  24. ( sixteen )
  25. ( seventeen )
  26. ( eighteen )
  27. ( nineteen )
  28. ( IV )
  29. ( twenty )
  30. ( twenty-one )
  31. ( twenty-two )
  32. ( twenty-three )
  33. ( twenty-four )
  34. ( V )
  35. ( twenty-five )
  36. ( twenty-six )
  37. ( twenty-seven )
  38. ( twenty-eight )
  39. ( twenty-nine )
  40. VI
  41. ( thirty )
  42. ( thirty-one )
  43. ( thirty-two )
  44. ( thirty-three )
  45. ( thirty-four )
  46. ( VII )
  47. ( thirty-five )
  48. ( thirty-six )
  49. ( thirty-seven )
  50. ( thirty-eight )
  51. ( thirty-nine )
  52. ( forty )
  53. ( forty-one )
  54. ( forty-two )
  55. ( VIII )
  56. ( forty-three )
  57. ( forty-four )
  58. ( forty-five )
  59. ( forty-six )
  60. ( forty-seven )
  61. ( forty-eight )
  62. ( forty-nine )
  63. ( fifty )
  64. ( fifty-one )
  65. Acknowledgments
  66. Acknowledgments
  67. Questions for Discussion

“That’s right.” She stacked the breakfast dishes up on the draining board. “I have lots to do. You can come and go as you please. That’s not the case for me.”

“Marie-Claire—” He was looking at those roses again.

“It’s for the best.” She dried her hands on her apron. “Don’t worry. This shan’t go further than ourselves. We won’t mention it again.”

( thirty-eight )

ROBERT, I’M LEAVING YOU.

Such a simple phrase. Four little words.

Three, really. That was all it took to destroy a marriage. Two carefully constructed and intertwined lives. Her world, and his.

Genevieve had slept heavily. Sleep like the deepest ocean. Dreamless, dense. It washed over the boundaries of night and beyond. Once or twice she struggled to wake up, aware of the strong rays of sun creeping through the gaps at the edges of the shutters, peeping between the curtains. But the house was quiet and her eyelids were heavy and the sleep came and swept her away again—until finally it beached her well into the morning. Still she lay on, eyes open now, listening to the sound of the blood in her head. Toying with four little words and what they would mean.

Robert, I’m leaving you.

Thinking about what Paolo had said. The consequences.

There would be a nasty scene when she told him. Perhaps many nasty scenes. He would be devastated. Would he become violent? She didn’t think of him as a violent man, and yet…

There were other ways he could hurt her. She’d lose this place, of course. Her Rue de Lota apartment with all its trimmings: The silver-and-gold veneer, the Pirogue couch and ostrich-egg light shades, her bedroom with its silk walls in cornflower blue, the delicate amboyna and acajou desk. Robert wouldn’t want to stay here. He’d hotfoot it back to Boston to be clasped to his mother’s breast. But he’d make damn sure she didn’t stay here either.

What else? He could go to see her father. Daddy would of course take his side. The poor wronged husband. When had he ever taken her side? Robert could see to it that she was disowned and disinherited if he really wanted that kind of revenge. Oh yes, he could surely accomplish that.

What else? He could drag her through the courts and across the society pages. He could make sure she was publicly humiliated and left without two francs to rub together. By the time he was done, she wouldn’t be received in any respectable household either side of the English Channel.

But who cares about respectability, chérie? What could be more boring than to live a respectable life?

What else?

He’d take her shoe collection! The most obvious and the cruelest revenge. That was something she absolutely couldn’t bear.