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Ground floor… not a sign of her. I’ve covered every shared space, every open bedroom, and knocked on every locked door. But I haven’t seen a sign of anyone. Maybe she’s with the family. Please, please, please, let that be the case.
I step into the backyard. “Grandmama?” I look left and right, she’s not there.
But Olivier is. Sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper with his legs crossed like this is any other day and his grandmother has not gone missing.
“Olivier?” I approach tentatively, but one look at me and he immediately senses my panic.
“What is it? Is it about last night? I wanted to talk to you about that, about my conduct.”
“Your conduct? You saved me from drowning. No, Olivier, this has nothing to do with that.”
“Oh.” He visibly relaxes. “What is it then?”
“I… I… I’ve lost Grandmama.”
“What do you mean you’ve lost Grandmama?”
“I’ve lost her! She’s not in her room, not anywhere in the house.”
“You can’t lose Grandmama. The woman can’t walk.”
“I know that, but she’s nowhere!”
“Maybe this is a simple misunderstanding,” he says, but I can see on his face that he’s not as calm as he’s trying to look. “Let me call my brother.”
I walk to the edge of the terrace in case I can catch sight of her from here. But there’s no sign she’s come this way. Not that I’d know what to look for. What kind of sign is there for an old lady whose one leg doesn’t work?
Olivier rushes over to me. “I just spoke with Sebastien. Grandmama doesn’t have any appointments today. She’s here.”
“But she’s not.”
“She’s here. We just have to find her. I’ll call in the groundskeepers. You keep looking while I check again inside.” He sighs. “Knowing her, she’s decided to go horseback riding.”
“Horseback riding?” I cry. “But she—”
“I’m exaggerating… but not by much. Shout if you see anything.”
I don't like the way that he said the word anything. I don’t want to think about what I might find. She's an old lady, feisty or not, and all kinds of things could have gone wrong.
“Grandmama!” I call, walking through the garden. “Grandmama!”
I continue beyond the garden’s edge and head to the first vineyard. Still not even the slightest indication she's come this way.
“Grandmama,” I try again, hot tears streaming down my face.
Men’s voices rise behind me, Olivier and his brother and the other groundskeepers. There are voices in every direction calling out “Grandmama! Grandmama!”
“Grandmama!” I cry. “Where have you gone?”
“Over here, dear,” a fragile voice responds.
“Grandmama, is that you? Where are you?” I should be able to see her, the vines only come up waist high, but there's no elderly woman to be seen for miles. Is she stretched out on the ground? I get down on my hands and knees.
“What are you doing, silly girl? I'm over here.”
I follow the sound of her voice two rows over, where she is sitting on one of the worker’s stools.
“Grandmama, thank heavens you’re okay. You are okay, aren't you? Did you hit your head? What happened to you? How is your leg? How did you even get out here?”
