Greta attempted to cover the awkwardness. "Oh," she said with a nervous laugh, "I'm sorry. It's just that you startled me." Unconsciously she was gently squeezing the hand he'd held, trying to imagine how it had felt to him. Horrorstricken, she asked herself, Did he feel it?
There was a long moment of silence in which everyone looked to everyone else. Finally, Jennifer spoke. "Jean-Pierre is a polo champion from Deauville, France."
Greta seized on this to move the conversation along. "Really? How fascinating. Are you playing polo here?"
He laughed at this, and everything seemed to fall back in order.
"There is no polo here. That is why I've come."
Jennifer explained. "We're considering starting a polo club right here in Woodside, Mrs. Locke. Perhaps Mr. Locke would be interested in sponsoring a player." This last comment was directed to Jean-Pierre. He arched his brows, inviting an explanation.
Instead of responding to this, Greta let go of her hand and fluttered it uneasily at his arm. "What happened?"
"Oh, this. My nemesis. Chronic dislocation. Shoulder. Worst it has ever been. I figured it was time to give my pony a rest and look into the idea of starting a club here. I need some time to recuperate." His eyes connected with hers, and for the moment that she held them, she felt as if he were acknowledging some unspoken confidence that they shared.
Jennifer spoke up. "We're delighted he's going to be staying with us for awhile." With a click of her tongue she began leading Mighty Boy along.
Jean-Pierre stopped her and took the horse by the halter. "May
I?" he asked Greta.
"Oh. Why, yes," she replied.