Shoe Addicts Anonymous Read Online Free PDF Page A

Jim’s business account. It was for emergencies.
    This was clearly an emergency.
    Two minutes later the salesman was back again; this time his face communicated a distinct distaste. He handed her the card…. It was cut into four perfectly even pieces.
    “They instructed me to cut it up,” he said curtly.
    “ Who did?”
    He shrugged narrow bony shoulders under an ill-fitting suit jacket. “The bank. They said the card was stolen.”
    “Stolen!”
    He nodded and arched an overly plucked brow. “That’s what they said.”
    “I think I’d know if my own card was stolen.”
    “I would think so as well, Mrs. Zaharis. Nevertheless, that is the message that was given to me, and that is the thing I must act upon.”
    She resented his condescending tone disproportionately, and tried to keep her anger in check. “You could have spoken with me before cutting the card, you know.”
    He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. They instructed me to dispose of the card on the spot, or else the store would be penalized.”
    Bullshit. She was absolutely sure he’d taken pleasure in cutting up the card, and especially in giving her the pieces. She’d known his type before.
    She shot him a withering look and took her cell phone out of her purse. “Excuse me, please. I need to make a call.”
    “Of course.”
    She watched him walk away, fearing he would simply count to five and come back to hover over her again, flinging judgment at her. But as he got closer to the back, a girl poked her head out the door and said, “Javier’s on the phone, Luis. He says you have a leaky pipe.”
    Luis. Helene made a mental note of the name, so she’d know exactly whom to reference in the scorching letter she planned to write to the store manager.
    She took one of the credit cards that had been rejected out of her wallet and called the number on the back, impatiently pushing buttons through menu after menu until she finally got a human being on the line.
    “This is Wendy Noelle, how may I help you?”
    “I hope you can, Wendy,” Helene said in the most gracious tone she could muster, under the circumstances. “For some reason my card was declined at the store today, and I can’t figure out why.”
    “I’d be happy to help you with that, ma’am. May I put you on hold for a moment?”
    “All right.”
    Helene waited, her heart pounding, while the hold music clashed in her head with the department store music.
    “Mrs. Zaharis?” The bank representative was back after the first half of a Barry Manilow song had warred with the Muzak version of “Love Will Keep Us Together.”
    “Yes?”
    “That card was reported stolen, ma’am.” The girl was nice. She sounded sincerely apologetic. “It’s been deactivated.”
    “But I didn’t call in and report it stolen,” Helene objected. “And I’m in the store now, but they won’t let me use it.”
    “You can’t use it if it’s been reported stolen.”
    Helene shook her head, even though the woman on the phone couldn’t see her. “This must be some sort of identity theft.” It was the only explanation that made any kind of sense. “Who called it in and reported it stolen?”
    “It was a Deme…Deme-et-tris—”
    “Demetrius?” Helene asked in disbelief.
    “Yes, Demeter’s Zaharis,” the woman fumbled. “He called to report the card was stolen.”
    “Why?” Helene asked before she could stop herself, even though she knew there wasn’t an answer to that question. At least not one that would satisfy her.
    “I’m afraid I don’t know.”
    “Is a replacement card being sent overnight?” She was beginning to feel a little panicked. “Can you just authorize my purchase with the new card number?”
    “Mr. Zaharis requested that we don’t send another card out at this time.”
    Helene hesitated, dumbfounded. She wanted to object, to say there had been a mistake or that someone impersonating Jim had called and canceled the card, but deep down something told her there was no