Part 58 (2/2)

”Why, his fiancee, Ms. Maupin.”

Dear G.o.d, she thought, suddenly comprehending what Jennifer was saying. He was gone. Gone without her. He had lied to her. Had tricked her. It had all been a game. A scam. The girl had probably been in on it all along. A double seduction. And they had gotten away with the money. And with more than the money.

They had gotten away with the only happiness she had known in a very long time. It was all coming too quickly, and she felt suddenly faint.

Jennifer caught her by the arm just before she collapsed. ”Mrs.

Locke, come inside with me. You're trembling. I'll make you some tea and - ”

”No!” Greta cried, shaking free. She stumbled in the dirt, landing on her gloved hands. She unsteadily got to her feet and fled from the barn. The driver leaped out of the car and rushed to open her door. She had soiled her dress, and her face was wild.

She dove into the back of the car and stumbled to the floor. She managed to struggle up onto the seat and the driver closed the door and climbed in up front.

”Ma'am?” he called gently through the open part.i.tion. She did not reply, and he turned around in his seat to look at her.

She sat huddled with her knees drawn up, elbows pressed into her stomach. Her face was hidden behind muddy gloves, and she made noises like she was injured.

He started the car. ”To the airport, ma'am?”

She began rocking back and forth against the door, facing away from the ranch.

”Ma'am?” the driver asked again, braking as he came to the end of the ranch driveway.

”Home,” she whispered, and burst into tears.

William shouted into the microphone again, ”Wait! Please! Listen, please!”

The cacophony of protest continued. A pen flew by dangerously close to his head. It was useless. There was no way he could get them to settle down so he could explain the announcement. After ducking another flying object, William turned and made for the curtains. In just a moment the thing would fix itself.

The house lights went out and then a spotlight illuminated center stage. The curtains parted.

And Peter Jones emerged.

The audience went wild.

Peter took a few steps to the edge of the stage, grinning from ear to ear. The crowd whistled and cheered and rose all at once, welcoming their champion with a standing ovation that lasted and lasted, earsplitting in its intensity.

”Thank you,” Peter said fanning his hands at the audience. ”And thank you, William,” he said, looking offstage.

The audience returned to their seats, some still applauding, but low enough so that he could be heard.

”It's good to be back,” he said. This lifted the applauding audience from their seats once more. He strolled to the podium, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and waited. When the audience settled down he continued.

”Today,” he said, his voice a little shaky, ”I've become ICP's newest employee, in their new subsidiary, Wallaby. I have to admit,” he said with a laugh, ”it's kind of weird being re-hired by the company you started!”

There was quick laughter, then rapt attention.

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