Maria wasn't looking forward to the flight with Sarah. Sarah was also a CPA and at twenty-nine years old, the rumor was that she would make partner this year. Maria knew that her skills and experience were far superior to Sarah's, but she also knew that Sarah had the personality and social connections to win clients, and clients made partners. Sarah was tall, ash blond, and had the casual air of aristocratic wealth. She was usually pleasant enough, but toward the cool side. Maria didn't really think of her as a rival, but she knew that Sarah saw her as an obstacle to advancement in the firm. Maria was wishing the office hadn't booked them together on this flight, but at least they had been bumped up to first class. It was still only 6:15 and she didn't feel too awake yet. Since there was plenty of leg room, she kicked off her high heels and relaxed, extending her legs, and rubbing her jet black stockinged feet on the floor. She noticed that Sarah hesitated, but had taken her heels off too.
Sarah had worn a taupe suit that looked custom made, consisting of a well tailored jacket over a knee length skirt, and white cotton shirt. Maria glanced at Sarah's classic pumps that were several shades darker than the tan stockinged feet resting next to them. The Prada label in the shoe told Maria that they probably cost more than her entire outfit. She must spend her entire salary on clothes, Maria thought. She flipped through a magazine, only half listening to Sarah go on about something or other, "...and so Marv said that he was standing there with Mr. Yashimoto and you came walking into the restaurant with only one shoe...
Maria stiffened. Marvin Stoddard was a jerk, Maria thought as she looked down the center aisle of the plane. Mr. Stoddard had promised not to mention the incident, the time she had arrived to meet a client with only one shoe. Maria had hoped the story would stay out of the office gossip circuit. And why was Sarah calling him "Marv"? Even his children probably called him "Mr. Stoddard" she thought to herself. Maria looked at her own empty shoes on the floor, remembering how the left one had been lost for nearly a month.
"Come on Maria," Sarah said impatiently, " you have to tell me the rest of the story." I'm just dying to know what happened." Maria considered this for a moment. She had told Mr. Stoddard that her shoe had been lost on the train platform coming into the city that night. What should she tell Sarah? What the hell, she thought, and she launched into an abbreviated version of the real story.
"Well, I was at a clients office and they set me up to work at the president's desk because he was out of the office all day. As I was talking on the phone, I rested my heel on the drawer of an open lateral file. When I leaned back in the chair, my foot slipped and my shoe fell off and landed in the drawer, just as it was closing. When I tried to open the drawer, it was locked, and no one in the office had a key."
"And so you just left without your shoes?" Sarah asked, in a shrill voice. Maria noticed that Sarah had nervously put her feet half into her own shoes just to be sure of their location. "I didn't exactly just leave," she said. "I waited all day for the client to return with the keys, but then when he returned, he had to try a whole bunch of keys and he couldn't find the right one. Then, a key broke off in the lock," Maria continued on, recounting the rest of the story. When she got to the part about riding the train with one shoe, Sarah shuddered, pushing her feet firmly into her shoes and pulling the flimsy airline blanket up around her neck. "So when I finally got downtown, I met Mr. Stoddard, Mr. Yashimoto, and some other Japanese guy. I was still wearing only one shoe, and just trying to act as if everything was normal. It was frosty cold outside too, and it was made even worse because my stocking wore through and my bare toes were exposed. They all must have thought I was crazy, but what else could I do? It all worked out though, because we got Yashimoto as a client."
"I would never take off my shoes in front of a client," Sarah said smugly, still seeming agitated. "And if I ever broke a heel, or lost my shoe in public, I would just go home, instead of going around looking like an idiot. Besides, I always carry a pair of flats in my briefcase."
Maria turned back toward the aisle and considered Sarah's reaction. Just when she was just about to respond with something impolite, Bill Maki tapped her on the shoulder.
"Hey Bill, how are you? I haven't seen you since Christmas. How's the family?" she asked, covertly slipping into her shoes. For a moment, she had considered introducing Sarah, but she felt like being rude just then.
"Maria, I have some people I'd like you to meet," said Bill. "If you have a chance, please come back and see us. We're in the cheap seats, row 28."
"I'll come right now," Maria said, gathering her things. She pointedly ignored Sarah, happy for the excuse to relocate into coach.
Sarah felt warm and happy, enjoying the sun and the beach, and the sounds of waves crashing into the sand. She was not however, enjoying that shaking, and what was that annoying noise? "Miss, please wake up, we've landed and we're at the gate. Welcome to Atlanta," said the flight attendant. Sarah had awakened to see that she was the last passenger on the plane. "Thanks a lot Maria," she mumbled to no one, stuffing the blanket into the seat next to her.
"You Bitch!" she nearly screamed. The Captain and flight attendants were looking at her now. Sarah pushed her right foot into the solitary shoe on the floor in front of her, and rushed out of the plane in a rage. She felt as if the entire world was staring at her as she stormed past the gate, her tan stockinged foot chasing her beige high heel. When I catch up to Maria, she'll wish she had never been born, she thought to herself. It seemed as if every stranger was looking at her as she bustled through the concourse. The plane had arrived at the very last gate, and it seemed like miles to the end of the concourse. On the moving sidewalk, she paused to adjust the seam of her stocking, that had ended up across the tops of her toes. She glared at the other passengers, daring them to even look at her feet, or mention her missing shoe. She held the moving handrail and stood on one shoe, tapping her nyloned toes on the rubber surface impatiently. After another ten minutes of unsteady travel, she stood at the baggage claim, again balanced on one shoe, her stockinged foot hanging in midair. There was no sign of Maria. She went to the car rental counters and the taxi stand, but she didn't see Maria anywhere.
"The things people leave on planes," Marvin said. In three years working at the airport cleaning planes, he had found all manner of things left behind by passengers. He held up the tan colored shoe. "Hey Charlie, some lady left her shoe under the seat." Charlie smiled. "That ain't nothing," he said, "I once found a full set of dentures in the seat back pocket. Somebody came and claimed 'em too." They both laughed. "Hey, somebody left a briefcase in the overhead too!"
Sarah had been on hold for several minutes and was getting angry. She paced back and forth in her tan stockinged feet, holding her solitary shoe in her hand. When Mr. Stoddard picked up, she attacked. "Maria stole my shoe on the plane and then disappeared at the airport. I must have walked ten miles with one shoe. My foot hurts, my leg hurts, and my stockings are getting ruined. As a special bonus, there's some guy sitting thirty feet away that has been staring at my feet since I picked up this phone. The entire population of Atlanta is laughing at me as we speak." Sarah was turning red and she gestured furiously with the shoe in her hand as she talked. "I'm getting on the next plane home!"
Stoddards voice was a low growl. "First, Sarah, I want you to understand that you will give that speech at the conference if you have to do it in your underpants. I pulled a lot of strings to get you the opening spot on the schedule, and you are not there to make me or my firm look bad. Secondly, why in the world would Maria want to steal your shoe?" Sarah told him about falling asleep on the plane and waking up without her shoe, being the last one on the plane, and her embarrassing forced march through the entire airport. She looked at her nylon clad toes and hoped that her expensive hosiery was not already ruined. "Probably just a practical joke," Stoddard said. "You go on to the conference center. I'll page Maria and make sure that she is there with your shoe before 9:00." Before she could object, she was talking to a dial tone.
Kevin couldn't believe his good luck this morning. He had found a parking space in the first row, and had just pulled his bag from the car when the shuttle stopped in front of him. He was 40 minutes early, enjoying a coffee, was watching this statuesque blond stride around the airport in one shoe. He set his newspaper on his lap. She was tall, at least 5' 10" and had the athletic build of tennis star. She was wearing a very expensive light colored suit and one immaculate and superbly polished pump with a 3-inch heel. Next to the shoe was the most elegant stockinged foot he had ever seen, and he paid close attention to these things. Probably an 8 or 9, her foot was long and narrow with a very high arch. Her arch was higher still when she put her silken toes on the gleaming floor, holding her heel up high, ankles together. Her toes were long and graceful, slender and perfectly aligned in a cascading arc, and exquisitely pedicured with a light colored polish. Each toe was perfectly curved and her nails reflected brightly in the polished surface of the floor. While talking on the payphone, she took off her remaining shoe and waved it wildly as she talked. Her legs were long and slender, flexing as she paced back and forth, bouncing on her toes while speaking tersely to the telephone receiver. Her legs and stockinged feet had the appearance of grace and power, an almost feline quality, as if she might suddenly leap high in the air without much effort. After a mesmerizing ten minute display, the angry goddess was gone. Kevin pulled out his Palm V, and wrote an E-mail on the spot. "Wait 'til the guys at LAH read about this one," he thought, "they'll never believe it."
"What are you looking at?" Sarah snarled at a little boy traveling with his grandmother. The little boy watched as the crabby woman put her one shoe on, and stalked off toward the automatic doors. Sarah felt dazed, and utterly confused. She had imagined that Marv would be sympathetic and concerned about her, but he didn't seem to care about her predicament at all. She imagined herself standing in front of an audience in her stockinged feet, giving a speech about "forensic accounting in anti-trust cases." Her silken toes were resting on the yellow painted curb as the morning business rush hurried past in all directions. "Where to lady?" Startled, Sarah found that she was now seated in the back of a taxi. Peachtree Center she mumbled. "Hey, Cinderella, where's your other shoe?" the cabbie asked, smiling into the mirror. Sarah was paying him little attention.
In the taxi to the convention center, Sarah relaxed a little. Mr. Stoddard would straighten out Maria, and Sarah would have a few things to say to her in private. "...other shoe..." she heard the cabby's voice repeat in her head. "Exactly!" Her heart leapt. She had another pair of shoes in her briefcase with her, SHIT! with her speech! Things had suddenly gone from very bad to worse. She pulled out her cell phone and called Stoddard again.
"You left your briefcase on the plane?" Marv sounded really mad this time. "I'm going to have someone call the airline. Call back in five minutes." Sarah looked at her watch, 8:05. The Cartier Baculante was probably worth more than the tired cab she was riding in, but she would happily trade it for a briefcase and a shoe right now. She saw a shoe store go by, but the security grate was down and no lights were on.
8:10. She dreaded the call, but she dialed Stoddard on her cell phone. "I talked to Maria," he said. "She doesn't have your damn shoe. She rode to the convention center with a client she met on the plane. I called the airline myself and they found your briefcase, and guess what? They found a women's shoe. They claim the shoe was left under a seat in first class. I hope you don't think you're turning in a first class ticket on your expenses. By the way, we faxed a copy of the speech to the convention center courtesy desk. A messenger service is on the way with the briefcase.
"Mr. Stoddard?" she said in a hoarse whisper, "What about my shoe?" She thought she heard static on the cell, but as she listened closer, she knew it was Stoddard laughing at her. "I didn't ask," he said, still chuckling, "but I hope they bring it with the briefcase." Serious again, Stoddard said in a low growl, " Sarah, don't you dare screw this up." Silence.
The cab made good time and they got to the convention center with time to spare. Sarah paid the cab driver, no tip. "Go see your fairy godmother for a tip," Cinderella told him. She removed her shoe and started padding barefoot across the wide plaza, but after thirty yards, she put the shoe back on. She walked into the building feeling nervous, but looking confidant, walking up on her toes, shoulders squared, eyes ahead. Mercifully, she found the courtesy desk without touring the entire building, and without encountering too many people, although the few she passed stared openly. As she waited for the receptionist to retrieve the fax, she paused to inspect her stockinged foot. The bottoms of her toes were nearly black, and a small run had started under the arch of her foot. Sarah shuddered, remembering Maria's story about her toes wearing through her stocking. She stopped in the washroom, fixed her hair and makeup, and prayed that no one would come in and see her with her foot up in the sink.
Sarah headed for the main hall, leaving a trail of damp footprints, and found a seat before anyone else arrived. The table had a long linen tablecloth the reached most of the way to the floor, and Sarah pushed her chair in tight, hiding her damp stockinged foot well out of sight. She tried to review the speech, but she just couldn't concentrate. Where was that messenger? Half an hour slowly passed and the hall was nearly filled with accountants and attorneys, about 800 people she guessed. She had done some public speaking, but never to a crowd this size. And never barefoot, she reminded herself, as her stomach churned. She looked to the front of the room and saw the podium, a modern looking setup with one thin post in the center, that wouldn't hide a ballpoint pen. "Certainly won't hide my big ugly foot," she thought, and looked around nervously for the messenger again.
Breakfast was an eggs and potatoes deal, but Sarah couldn't begin to eat anything. The lights were dimming and the introductory speaker was already starting. Sarah looked around for any sign of a messenger, looked at her watch for the 200th time, and looked at her foot edging past the tablecloth. She had always hated her feet since school days when the boys, all a head shorter than Sarah, had called her Bigfoot. They had often stolen her shoes at recess and teased her until she cried, as she was beginning to right now. Where is the damn messenger she thought, fighting back the tears. The door opened on the far side of the room and a man in a uniform looked around at the crowd. "... please welcome Ms. Sarah Miles, of Stoddard, Sparks, Feldman," said the speaker at the podium, and everyone was applauding. Sarah stood up, desperate to catch the attention of the messenger, but as she stood up, the rest of the table also stood up, obscuring her view of the door, and the messenger. "Ms. Sarah Miles," the speaker said again, looking around the room for any sign of the first speaker.
The deliveryman took one more look around the auditorium and backed out of the door. Sarah's heart skipped a beat and she thought she might faint. She had no choice. As she started toward the front of the hall, many of the people near her were looking down at her stockinged foot, and some of them were actually pointing. She was toward the back of the room and had to wind her way through many tables as she made her way forward. Tears were running down her cheeks, and several times, she considered running for the exit. She was nearly to the front and as she passed between two tables in the first row, she kicked something on the floor and stumbled. Incredibly, she had kicked a high-heeled shoe, black with a chunky heel, and sitting right next to it was its mate. As she recovered herself, she looked to see two dark stockinged feet a yard from the shoes.
Maria kicked Sarah's tan pump under her own chair, and held her hand as she worked her feet into the shoes that were too tight. "Hurry back," she said, smiling, and pushed a handkerchief into Sarah's hand.
"Thank you,"; Sarah said, and hugged her. Sarah walked confidently to the podium and delivered a terrific speech.
Maria had collected Sarah's briefcase and shoe from the courtesy desk, and Sarah had worn her flats on the trip back to the airport. They had over an hour and a half before the boarding call, so Sarah stopped at the pub near gate one to buy a drink for her good friend Maria. "I thought your speech was great," Maria said, "and all of the people at my table were really impressed, a couple even took notes."
"I would have fainted if I had to go up there bare foot with one shoe," said Sarah. "You saved my life, or at least my job."
"it's really no big deal," Maria said. "I had my shoes off under the table anyway, and besides, you shouldn't be embarrassed. If people stare at you, it's because you are a beautiful woman. So you had to walk around with one shoe for a half a day, it's not such a big deal after all."
Sarah laid a twenty on the table for the drinks and smiled brightly for the first time today. "I'm really glad you see it that way," she said, snatching Maria's dangling shoe from her black silken foot. Sarah bounded off in the direction of gate 27, waving Maria's shoe above her head and laughing hysterically. Maria ran after her but had absolutely no chance of catching her because she had on only one high heeled shoe; because she had one black stocking clad foot that slipped on the polished floor with every step; and because she was out of breath, laughing even harder than her new friend Sarah.
Snowman