Free Bolted by Meg Benjamin Page A

might go, but maybe Bernice could help.
    Calling Bernice on the landline meant Sophie had to spend fifteen minutes talking to Bernice’s mother, who happened to be Allie’s aunt. At least she was apologetic about her niece’s behavior. But then Owen had been apologetic too. More than apologetic. He’d been heartbroken. As had Sophie, of course. They’d both been so happy at the thought of having Allie and Josh together. She took a deep breath. No more dwelling on the whole might-have-been part of things.
    When she finally came to the phone, Bernice sounded sleepy. “No, ma’am,” she mumbled. “I haven’t seen Greta since she left the inn yesterday.”
    Sophie frowned. Greta was at the inn? “When was that?”
    “Sometime in the afternoon. She went to the reception for a while and then she checked the dressing room where I was looking after Allie’s things.” Bernice paused. Apparently she was a little embarrassed about mentioning Allie’s name.
    Sophie gripped the phone more tightly. “Did she say where she was going then?”
    “No, ma’am. I thought she was going back to your house.”
    A fair assumption. Unfortunately, wrong. “If you see her, would you ask her to call me, please?”
    “Yes, ma’am, I’ll do that.” Bernice yawned again as Sophie hung up.
    She headed back downstairs, ignoring the faint niggle of unease that made her shoulders feel tense. In the kitchen, she opened her cell phone again, checking the voice mail. Nothing. No messages. And there hadn’t been any messages on the landline either.
    “You’d think she’d at least call,” she muttered.
    You didn’t call her. Sophie blew out a breath. No, she hadn’t, but why should she? Greta was supposed to be here at home. She dialed her daughter’s number now, only to be transferred to her voice mail. “Greta, where are you?” Sophie snapped. “You’re supposed to be here. Call me as soon as you get this.”
    She stood for a moment, frowning at the sunlight filling her backyard. The child wouldn’t have gone back to Boston, would she? Without changing clothes? Without saying good-bye? Leaving all her things in her room? Surely she’d know better than that. Her hand hovered over the phone for a moment, and then she pulled up her address book. She must have Ryan’s work number somewhere. Greta claimed he hadn’t been able to get away from the office for the wedding, but surely he could take a few moments to talk to Sophie.
    Of course, getting Ryan on the phone once she’d found the number wasn’t as easy as she might have hoped. By the time his secretary finally deigned to ring his office, Sophie was doing deep breathing exercises to keep from yelling.
    When Ryan finally came onto the line, he sounded oddly tentative. “Yes?”
    “Ryan, dear, it’s Sophie. I’m so sorry to bother you at work, but I wondered if Greta had gotten back to Boston yet. Have you spoken with her today by any chance?”
    There was a very long pause before he spoke again, long enough so that the niggle of unease at the back of Sophie’s mind began to move toward full-blown anxiety. “I haven’t spoken with Greta in over a week,” he said slowly. “Not since the final decree was awarded.”
    Sophie gripped the edge of the counter in nerveless fingers. “Decree? What decree? What are you talking about?”
    This time there was a very, very long pause before she heard Ryan sigh. “She didn’t tell you, did she? I was afraid she might do something like that.”
    “Tell me what?” But of course she already knew.
    “We’re divorced, Sophie. We have been for about a week now. We were separated for a few months before that.”
    “Oh.” Sophie closed her eyes, leaning against the counter. Oh, Greta. Oh, damn it. “No, she didn’t mention it. Well, I’m sorry I bothered you.”
    “Wait,” he said sharply. “Why are you calling about Greta now? What happened?”
    “She didn’t come home last night. I thought perhaps she’d decided to