What? Life on the streets? Suicide? She considered suicide, she told us, but just couldn't bring herself to end the life growing inside her. Then Grac...e sat down beside her."I want to take her with us," she said, bluntly."But..." objections streamed through my head. Not least, what her presence would do to our privacy. In the end, though, I turned to the girl. "Now," I said, "we're sailing. We're going to a little town on the other side of England and it'll take weeks to do it. You'll probably. My father owned and operated the local combination inn and tavern, with of course, the assistance, advice and direction of my mother. Along with my siblings, I worked there from the time I was old enough to help. I started mopping the flagstone floor, washing dishes, and finally graduated to serving drinks and food. Generally I didn’t have to think twice about the customers. After all, with the exception of a traveling bard or tinker and the very rare patrol of English soldiery, our village was. Jessica heard the commotion, of course. She slipped down the stairs when it had quietened down, only to find me sitting on the sofa with my head in my hands."You've got to slow down, Mark," she said as she sat next to me and draped a comforting arm about my shoulders.It wasn't meant to be a sexual gesture, but I'm a healthy man of 22 and Jessica wasn't wearing anything except the nearly-transparent silk kimono that was practically her uniform around the house. When she was that close to me, I. When we got back home, a rental car was in the driveway. Angie turned to me and said "Now for your surprise honey." And she left me saying she'd be at Jeannie's if I needed her.I was perplexed. Whose car was that in the driveway? Janie? No. Angie would not have left me alone with her. Yvette? No, again Angie would have stayed. I was puzzled. Opening the garage door, a smell wafted through the house. Apricot? Following the smell, I opened Yvette's old room. It was now the guest room, as Angie.