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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

“God, no. When I went to bed last night, I didn’t know where I’d go or what I’d do. I’ve never felt so lost. I even contemplated going back to live with my father. But when I woke up this morning, I looked out of my window and saw that it’s all still here for me. Paris. It’s still the place I dreamed about. It’s still my city. My home.” But her lip trembled. “As to the details, I really don’t know.”

“What shoes are you wearing today?” Lulu bent down to take a look. “Ah—the red velvet Zacharis.”

“World’s best shoemaker,” said Genevieve. “I could hardly leave those behind, could I?” There was a lump in her throat now. “But as to the rest of my collection…” She had to take a sip of her drink.

Lulu wagged a finger. “I will not hear such defeatist talk! Vivi, we will get your shoe collection out of that apartment even if we have to hold up the doorman at gunpoint! We’re going straight over to the Rue de Lota after we’ve had this cake, and I’ll distract Robert while you put all those boxes in a taxi. I’ll sleep with him if I have to—desperate times call for desperate measures, and—”

“We’d need more than one taxi for my shoe collection. Anyway, where would we take it?”

Lulu shrugged. “My place?”

Genevieve thought of Lulu’s apartment and tried very hard to smile.

“We’ll do it, chérie. I won’t let you down again.”

“I know.”

The Chocolat l’Africain and cakes arrived.

“So I’m staying in Paris, but I’ve no clue what I’m going to do.” Genevieve stuck a finger into her cream pastry. “I’m not a poet. I’m not a wife. I was a half-decent patron of the arts, but you can’t do that without money.”

Lulu shrugged. “Who needs money? You have charm. And beauty and a good brain. You’ll find a way forward. There’s another kind of life waiting for you out there. You just have to reach for it.”

“Do you really think so?”

Genevieve turned to gaze out the window. There was a touch of autumn in the air. A tree outside was dropping its leaves, and they were blowing down the street. An old man in a cap was sweeping them up, but they kept escaping and throwing themselves under the wheels of passing cars, beneath the hooves of a horse dragging a cart full of junk. A woman was walking by, carrying a baguette under one arm and holding the hand of a little girl in a red beret. The girl saw Genevieve looking at her and stuck out her tongue, before being drawn on and away.