She froze in her tracks when she realized her error.
"Oh!" she moaned.
Jennifer, the ranch's owner, pulled back the hood of her raincoat
and approached her cautiously. A bewildered expression creased
her face as she took in Greta's disheveled appearance.
"Mrs. Locke, my goodness," she said with a wary smile. "It's a
bit wet for a ride today, don't you think?"
"Where is he?" Greta demanded, her chest heaving. "Where is
Jean-Pierre?"
"Jean-Pierre? Why, he's gone." Jennifer wiped her brow with the
back of her hand. "Oh, it's getting ugly out there," she said,
wincing at the sound of the building downpour rattling down on
the metal roof.
Greta grabbed the older woman's raincoat sleeve and roughly spun
her around, screaming: "What do you mean he's gone?"
Jennifer leaped back with astonishment. "He's gone. He left, Mrs.
Locke. For France."
"No! That's wrong," Greta cried. That's not possible, I'm going
with him! Do you hear me? He can't be gone!"
Jennifer was mortified and hastily tried to explain. "Mrs. Locke,
I gave him a ride to the airport myself. Last night. He informed
me at the very last moment, yesterday afternoon, that he was
returning to France. With her."
"Her? Her who?"
"Why, his fiancee, Ms. Maupin."
Dear God, she thought, suddenly comprehending what Jennifer was
saying.
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