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Back The Shoe Queen Save as PDF
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

SHE WAS SURE SHE’D never waited so long on the telephone. So much time and space in which to be nervous. To fear, to dread, to pray.

Please let him be there. Please let it be him, not her.

The delay stretched out. The operator must be doing this deliberately.

And then, at last…

“Putting you through.”

A loud click and the sound of breathing. His. She knew it was his, and she loved it.

“Paolo, I’m so—”

“I know.”

“Do you think you could ever forgive me?”

“Maybe. Are you drunk?”

“Yes. I’ve left Robert.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! Robert, the apartment, even my shoe collection…” A throb beneath the ribs. “I’ve done it, Paolo. It’s done. There’s no going back.”

A breath. “Are you all right?”

“I’m leaving Paris. Tonight.”

“Where will you go?”

“London. Come with me.”

A sound on the line. Perhaps a cough. Perhaps a laugh.

“We can start afresh there. London’s a great city—maybe even greater than Paris. Your work needn’t suffer at all. There’d be so much new inspiration. We’d have each other. There wouldn’t be trouble from Robert or…or her. We could be happy.”

Silence.

“Alternatively you could stay here with your shoes, going to parties and sleeping with women you don’t love and who don’t love you. The years will go by and you’ll just get more and more lonely and bitter. A life without love, that’s what you’ll have. You’ll shrivel up like an old prune. Do you think that’ll make your shoes more beautiful? I doubt it.”

Still he didn’t speak. The fire in her belly was starting to waver. “Come on, Paolo. Say yes. We can get the eight o’clock boat train.”

“It’s already six-thirty.”

“So?”

“So I don’t have much time to pack.”

The flames leaped again. Right into her throat. “You’re coming then?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll be fine. You know that, don’t you?”

“I’ll see you at the Gare du Nord.”

“On the platform.”

Genevieve breathed in and out, and the receiver was empty in her jeweled hand.

( forty-five )

PIGEONS FLUTTERED ABOUT HER as she handed over the money for her ticket. They snatched at a piece of bread that somebody had dropped and went soaring back up to the vaulted steel-and-glass roof. People drifted. Businessmen in smart coats were scything through the crowds, clutching their hats, tutting their contempt. Steam hissed and puffed from the great dark engines, putting Genevieve in mind of her father’s dogs—big black hounds pawing at the frozen ground, straining at their leashes, their breath clouding the air. She had always been afraid of them.