The driver stopped the car.
"We'll only be a minute," Greta said, pulling on her gloves as
she climbed out before the driver could reach her door. Ducking
in the light drizzle, she shrouded her scarf over her head and
went up the steps to his front door. She rang the bell, then
glanced back to the limousine for a moment.
Silence.
She pressed the bell again, once, twice, and at the same time
scanned the barn and the training ring for any sign of him. The
stable doors were shut. Could he have overslept? She checked her
watch then pounded the door, growing more worried with each
moment that passed without his answering the door. She had
planned for them to get to the airport early, and even if he was
asleep they could still certainly make their flight as long as
they hurried.
She turned and raised her hand at the driver, signaling for him
to wait. She hurried off the small porch and ran around to the
back of the house. She looked into his bedroom window. The bed
was made, and rising on her toes, she could see through the
bedroom door into the living room. He wasn't inside.
She climbed the small rear steps and frantically pounded her fist
against the door, oblivious to the pain she was causing herself.
"Jean-Pierre!" she called. "Open up! Jean-Pierre!"
She held her breath and listened.
More of nothing.
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