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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

Genevieve examined notations, picked up jars, tripped over pieces of wood, but nothing seemed to tell her anything about why Zachari had done this to her, and where he might be now.

Concentrate.

Here on a stool was a pair of delicate court shoes, painted like the wings of butterflies. He’d been talking about them on the telephone just today, hadn’t he? He’d been all excited to tell her something, and she hadn’t been listening. Now, who had he said they were for? The Countess de Frémont, possibly? He might be in bed with Violet, right now. They might be laughing uproariously at the very thought of her at the Gare du Nord, waiting and hoping and longing…

No. That wasn’t what was happening. Focus, Genevieve.

What had he told her that first day he’d brought her in here? He kept all the shoes in a padlocked cupboard. He would never leave them lying around.

She picked up the butterfly shoes and sat down on the stool, convinced now that something had happened to Paolo, something that had compelled him to change his plans at the last moment, write a hasty note and send a boy to deliver it to her.

Who or what had that kind of power over him?

Back upstairs she made straight for the reception desk. The appointments diary lay open, but there was no address book. She tried the drawer—and yes, here it was.

First she looked under O,—but there was no address listed. Then she realized she didn’t know the surname, so was forced to check under every letter of the alphabet, nervously running her finger down each page, so tense and impatient that she almost tore the pages as she turned them.

Nothing.

Genevieve slumped. Her head, shoulders and back ached with tiredness. She was aware, now, of how thirsty she was, and of how much she needed to sleep. For a while, she just sat there at the reception desk. Then, with an effort, she dragged herself back to the staircase and climbed up to his apartment, immensely relieved when that door opened too. She’d get herself a glass of water and lie down on his bed for the night. He had to come back eventually, didn’t he?

She was already running her second glass, the water dripping down her chin even while her thirst was still raging, when she turned and saw the half-written letter on the kitchen table.

Dear Olga,