"I'm not a maid. I'm the son of a..." Wench," Edytha interjected."I'm not a..." Man." Stop that," Charles demanded."You dare to speak to me like that... Bridget," Edytha barked while Thomasmoved close behind her."Do you want me to teach this ungrateful shrew her place," Thomasoffered.Charles's remembrance of the similar sized man's far greater strengthcowed him for a second as he stooped and said, "It's true." What does your clothing tell you of your station?" Edytha countered."It's a dress.". During that time to keep my sanity, I did write that story. I posted it on a site called Stories on Line. It was well-received to my surprise. Apparently, there were many old guys with too much time on their hands.I kept writing and they kept reading, some sending kind comments, others not so kind, but on the whole, it was good.I did go back to work but kept writing. What started out as a short story became two very long books and two short stories.Somewhere in there, I decided to retire. That. More

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