Mariella did not go straight back to the office. Stopping off at a bar, she’d ordered a Campari and soda and sat in a booth by herself considering her options. She vividly remembered throwing out the shoemaker’s last when she cleaned out Enzo’s office, but she didn’t know what had happened after that. There were all kinds of sample shoes strewn around the office, all of them the same size, and she wondered if Hugo would be satisfied if she produced those.

If she were still married to Brian, she could have had him sculpt a fake out of one of the hunks of old wood he always seemed to have lying around, but she hadn’t talked to him in years and didn’t think he’d be glad to hear from her now.

She tried to think if there was anyone at the factory who might...

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