Authors: Alene Roberts
She dashed down the front stairs to find Grandpa Bliss, the only neutral one in the family, the only one whose twinkling brown eyes found humor in the family’s concern over her unmarried state.
She found him in the library playing a game of chess with Uncle Henry.
He looked up when she walked in.
“
Snooks! You’re home,” he exclaimed, smiling. “And what brings my lovely granddaughter home to see her poor, lonely folks?”
“
Because they’re poor and lonely, Grandpa,” she said, smiling affectionately and walking over gave his wrinkled, grinning face a kiss.
“
Humph! What brings you home on a Friday night?” grumbled Uncle Henry. “Most young people are out on dates.”
“
And hello to you, too, Uncle Henry,” she said, leaning down and pecking him on the cheek. “So, who’s winning?”
“
I am, of course,” replied Uncle Henry.
“
I let him win now and then so he won’t be so ornery,” stated Grandpa.
Billie pulled up a chair to watch the game. Instead, she found herself watching them. Grandpa had lived with them for over sixteen years. She was eleven years old at the time he came, and she was sure he had come just to be her friend and confidant. His height of six feet had shrunk some, but he still had a full head of gray hair and lots of energy. He did most of the yard work in the summer, shoveled snow in the winter, and fixed anything that needed fixing, like faucets, the washer, and the toaster. He also hung wallpaper and painted. In fact, he did anything that needed doing.
Uncle Henry, with his short stature, brown hair, and paunchy middle, looked more like his sister Matilda than his sister Margaret, her mother. He was between them in age. Uncle Henry’s distinctive, down-turned nose and mouth betrayed his cynical outlook on life. But, like Grandpa, he too earned his board and keep by planting and caring for the vegetable garden in the summer, and helping Grandpa with the yard work. He also took over the job of doing the dinner dishes. Sometimes he annoyed Minnie, the housekeeper, with his help, when she came once a week to clean house. When Uncle Henry’s wife died ten years ago, Billie’s parents’ invited him to come and live with them. Billie was sure that this was a great relief to his three grown sons and their wives. When his sons came to visit, bringing with them their wives and children, the five extra bedrooms of this big old home soon filled up.
Billie contemplated this household with its strong-willed occupants, each with such different personalities. She had often wondered how everyone got along so well. A few problems would crop up now and then, but they were short lived and usually with apologies afterward, although Uncle Henry’s apologies were peculiar to him. Not until Billie was older did she understand how this family was able to live together in such harmony. It was because of the tradition her grandpa Bliss had started in his own home, which his son now carried on in his. Every morning early, all the family gathered around the kitchen table and read the Bible together, always ending in prayer. Billie missed this part of living with her family—but carried it on by herself in her own little apartment.
She, Grandpa, and her parents had bedrooms on the second floor. Aunt Tilly and Uncle Henry’s were on the third. Papa, looking to the future, had an elevator installed.
“
Billie girl!”
All heads turned toward the library door. “Papa!” exclaimed Billie, getting up and running to him. Throwing her arms around his chest, she gave him a squeeze.
He grunted, put his briefcase down and returned her hug. “How’s my girl?”
“
How’s my papa?”
“
Are we both fine?” he asked, studying her as she pulled away.
“
It looks like it,” she said, smiling at him. “You look as handsome as ever.”
And he was. Tall and broad shouldered, he was always dressed in superb suits and ties with white shirts. His thick, auburn hair, graying at the temples, complemented warm, brown eyes, framed by wire-rimmed glasses. Her father owned two hardware stores and a feed store. At one time, he rolled up his sleeves and worked with the help, but now, William Bliss was the true executive, delegating and managing.
“
Come, come!” Aunt Tilly’s voice floated through the hall before she appeared at the library door. “William, go wash up, you don’t want the chowder to get cold.”
“
No, I certainly don’t, Matilda.” The lines around his eyes crinkled as he grinned. “I’ll rush right on up and wash my hands.” He ran upstairs, and Billie disappeared into the dining room.
Tilly trotted over to the two playing chess. “Stop that game of chess right this minute. Dinner is ready.”
“
We heard you, Tilly, we heard you,” growled Henry.
“
He’s just mad because I’m about to beat him,” Bill Bliss explained, grinning at Tilly as he stood up.
Tilly led the procession as the three marched, quickstep, into the dining room.
Sheldon Ackerman, his eyes alight with excitement, studied each girl as she sauntered into class Monday morning. Most of them smiled and said, “Good morning, Dr. Ackerman.” He nodded at each, a pleasant look on his face, totally unaware of the blush on a couple of faces. No one was late today.
But it did seem to take young women an inordinate amount of time to settle in: stopping to comb their hair, adjusting their clothing, searching through their backpacks for an interminable length of time to find a notebook and pencil, putting on lipstick, and finishing their visiting. His patience was getting thin. He had wanted to start the class right on time today, if not a few minutes early.
When everyone was settled, he stood up, walked around the desk and began.
“
Good morning, class. Today, I’m not going to give the usual lecture.
Something important has come up.” He noted their surprise and curiosity.
“
There is a wealthy benefactor who has been donating to Fairfield University and now he has offered something new. He’s very interested in seeing women succeed in the business world, or in whatever vocation they choose, so he has asked me to hand out a questionnaire to this class. He and a selected committee are going to review the questionnaires that you fill out, discuss them, and choose eight. Then, out of the eight, they will carefully choose four. The committee will meet with these four students and inform them that they have the opportunity to be part of a new program. If these four choose to be part of the program and fulfill all the requirements, they will receive a generous sum of money to help with their education.
“
The benefactor regrets not being able to choose more than four. To compensate for this, he will pay each one of you for filling out the questionnaire. But it has to be filled out with careful consideration and thought, and with total honesty. One of the committee is a seasoned psychologist. He will review them, and he’ll be able to tell if the answers are not sincere.
“
Please be sure to put your phone number in the space allotted. I will be calling four of you this week. Are there any questions, or is there anyone unwilling to fill out the questionnaire?” He stopped and waited, giving the class members time to respond. Not one hand went up; they only stared at him in wide-eyed surprise. He continued, “This is not mandatory for this class, and your grade will not be affected either way.” Again he waited. Silence followed, as the girls tried to digest the information. No one objected, but the young woman with the stringy hair and sour expression raised her hand.
“
How much will he pay us to fill it out?” she asked in a skeptical tone.
“
One hundred dollars each, Miss Lemmon,” he answered, pleased that he had remembered her name.
The girls all gasped, staring at him in shock. When Lora Lemmon could find her voice, she mumbled, “Uh, thank you.”
Unseen by Dr. Ackerman, Billie Bliss’ pensive face revealed concern. She was almost certain that she would not want to be one of the four, even though she could certainly use the money. But, she thought, she would just have to wait and see.
By the end of the period, all questionnaires were placed on Dr. Ackerman’s desk. When the last student left, he gathered up the papers and went next door to his office to go through them.
-
Wednesday evening, shortly after 7:00 p.m., the DeePees, now called “the committee,” were sitting comfortably in Sheldon’s condominium reading through the questionnaires. By 8:30 they had agreed on the eight, semi-final candidates.
Robert shook his head. “It’s very clear, after reading these, that the majority are just taking the class to fill credit hours.”
Hal and Nettie agreed.
Sheldon nodded, then added in a critical tone of voice, “I’m no psychologist, but it’s very plain to me that most of these girls are not serious about a career in business.”
Nettie, a successful business woman herself, spoke up. “Or even a career, period. But there’s nothing wrong with that, Shel. After all, since there are a lot of men out there not willing to commit themselves to marriage, many young women are forced into a career whether they want it or not.”
Sheldon thought about this for a moment. Completely missing the not too- subtle barb aimed at
him
, he said, “I didn’t realize that, Nettie, but it certainly doesn’t make for a very stimulating group to teach.”
The other three members of the committee looked at each other, shaking their heads slightly over his failure to get the punch line. Then dismissing him, they looked through the papers. The eight questionnaires were reduced to three on which they totally agreed, but each had chosen a different one for the fourth.
Hal looked at the one he chose and smiled. “This girl seems very well adjusted, but her answers contradict themselves. Her answers to the questionnaire were quite confusing, but I’m going to choose her for the fourth, anyway.”
“
I remember that one,” Robert said. “She didn’t fit into any one category.
“
I remember one like that,” Nettie said. “She had an unusual name, I believe.”
Sheldon smiled knowingly. “I’ll tell you her name. Billie Bliss.”
Surprised that he would know who they were talking about, their eyes widened with curiosity. Then Nettie asked the questions that were suddenly on all their minds. “Do you know her, or have you had an opportunity to visit with her, Shel?”
“
I’ve had an opportunity to visit with her, but I certainly can’t say I know her.”
“
Why don’t you tell us about the visit,” Nettie suggested.
Sheldon hesitated, then smiled, “I don’t know whether or not to incriminate myself.”
“
Incriminate yourself?” Nettie asked, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Oh, please do, Shel,” she cajoled, smiling eagerly.
“
Well, uh, Miss Bliss thinks that it’s, uh,
my
fault that . . .” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “that she gained five pounds in my class spring term and already three pounds in the first two weeks of this one.”
Eyes blinked, eyebrows raised, then all three laughed. Sheldon tolerated their amusement. When they were through, he said, “I’m glad that furnished you with some fun.”
“
Do tell us more, Shel,” Nettie said, tickled beyond words.
“
If you think her answers to the questionnaire were confusing, you should have heard the interview I had with her.”
“
Oh?” queried Hal. “Tell us about it.”
“
I couldn’t relate my questions and her answers if you tied me to the rack.
I’ve never been so confused in my whole life.”
The three were intrigued. They had never known Sheldon Ackerman to be confused, or, at least, to admit to being confused.
“
Come on, give it a try, Sheldon,” Robert insisted.
“
Well,” Sheldon began, grimacing, “I asked the class to write their career goals down and turn them in. When I came to Miss Bliss’ paper, she . . .”
“
Go on,” Nettie urged.
“
She had something on the paper, but it certainly was not her goals.” He stopped, glanced at each them, wondering why he was divulging this.
“
Shel!” Nettie exclaimed in exasperation. “Do we have to pull this out of you inch by inch?”
Sheldon smiled and shook his head. “I know how you three will react if I tell you any more, but here goes. She had only one sentence on the paper which said, ‘It’s your fault Dr. Ackerman.’”
They were silent as it sank in, then they roared with laughter. Sheldon smiled indulgently and waited.
At last Robert said, “Well, what happened next?”
“
Needless to say, I invited her to come into my office. Once we were there, I asked her what she meant by that statement, but the more she talked or answered questions, the more confused I got. Listen to this, see if you can make sense of it. She said, and I quote: “It’s your fault, Dr. Ackerman, but I assure you, you’re not to blame.”
The men looked at each other, puzzled, and Nettie laughed. Sheldon turned to her. “You understand that?”
She laughed again. “Yes.”
Robert Bittle sighed.”It’s obviously a female thing, Sheldon.”
Nettie ignored the statement and asked, “What kind of a student is she, Shel?”
“
She got the highest scores on the two short exams I’ve given so far.” Then he added, “And she keeps herself nicely groomed.”