When we stopped to refuel and where, I have no idea. All I recall is the landing on American soil and getting out of the car in front of the monstrous house I had visited once before, the night Gaston had seduced me so thoroughly.
Hefting Piers in my arms and carrying Ria on the other hip, I turned as a woman came tripping down the stairs. Older than me, a slender, tall creature, she was dressed in what was obviously the latest in fashion and she flung her arms around Gaston, bringing his head down and kissing him passionately. Gaston kept his eyes open, watching me as I stared, suddenly feeling gauche and awkward in my jeans that were too tight around the hips and my old shirt with the buttons straining across my breasts.
As though she suddenly became aware of us, she turned and said in a displeased voice that suggested that we were little better than strays, ”Who are these?”
Gaston squeezed her buttocks, his eyes never leaving my face and smacking her lightly on her nearly non-existent behind, he said, ”My guests. I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetie.”
Sweetie seemed like she wanted to ask a lot more but I decided to put my foot down.
“Gaston,” I said tightly, “can we go inside please? I think our children are tired.”