Not bloody likely. Despite several days’ worth of unshaven stubble, I wasn’t a bearded, debonair gentleman like the seventy-eight-year-old actor J...nathan Goldsmith, whom legend says can speak Russian in French.“So, the women of the Society of Sisters are okay with me?” I licked my lips with cautious hope.“Most of them don’t seem to mind; you’re a welcome diversion from the daily routine, but a couple of the gals really hate men and told Sheila that they’d assassinate you if you remain at. ?Is that an order Sir?? John had laughed.?Sure why not, just make sure you get a good price for her, I'm sure I can find a replacement for her easily enough.? the editor had replied before they both burst out laughing again like two schoolboys telling a dirty joke, a joke Tracey didn't find funny at all!Tracey had been fuming when they finally left the office, after all she had at least 4 years seniority on the papers over John but those two had been talking about her like she was some throw. They would come in handy for when I wanted to go exploring. As the saying used to go, "There's gold in them thar hills!"I started thinking about how much it would cost to build a small barn. It would need heat for the mules during the winters, and would need enough space to store feed until the grass came back in the spring.I was sitting at the bar sipping from my glass of Sherry, when a large group of people entered. Several made their way to the bar, and others waited to be seated.. It was a bald faced attempt to change the subject.Ramona realized with a flush of embarrassment that she had no idea what she'd been preparing. She looked at the counter in confusion. "I don't know." she said weakly. When she saw the chicken on the counter she said "Fried chicken." Her eyes went to the stove, at the pan of water boiling there, and the potatoes in it. "And mashed potatoes." she added."OK then." said Robby, as if something momentous had been resolved. "I'm starving."Debbie took a.