It's Bliss

It’s Bliss

a modern, old-fashioned love story

Knightsbridge Publishing
Revised and updated 2011

Copyright © 2012 by Alene Roberts

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—including electronic, photocopy, or recording—without the prior written permission of the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a critical review.

Published digitally by TheAuthorsAlly.com.

Cover concept by Dr. Whit Roberts | www.feelrotten.org

Cover design by Jen Boss | [email protected]

Cover design © 2011 by Alene Roberts

Page layout by Kat Gille | www.thewritersbestfriend.com

Dedication

To my loving husband, Elliott.

The countless hours

he has spent reading, critiquing,

and making suggestions for revisions

have made him indispensable to my writing.

I am in awe that someone as brilliant as he

could be so complimentary of my work.

It was the coldest January day on record for Claytonville, Illinois—and the gloomiest, one might add. It was on this bone-chilling and dismal day, that Miss Billie Bliss had reached the absolute end of her rope.

Prior to this fateful day, Billie Bliss had bravely endured the many peccadillos and misguided attempts of her male coworkers to attract her interest.

Several changes of employment had neither decreased the number, nor improved the quality of the hopeful, would-be suitors, nor had it eased her occasional bouts of malaise brought on by a vague feeling that her life was somehow out of control.

Today, one more sophomoric male had begun his conversational gambit with the words, “Hey, babe.”

That was the final straw!

It was in this state of dire distress that an idea flashed into Billie’s mind as brilliantly as fireworks on the fourth of July and as swift and on the mark as an arrow hitting the bull’s-eye.

“
Of course!” The exclamation was muttered only to herself. “Why didn’t I think of it sooner?” Yes! She could create her
own
environment. She could create a place where she could maintain a pleasant atmosphere in which to work—the very antithesis of the environment she was in now.
This
environment constantly sent her flying to the refrigerator for comfort, to the vending machine for solace, or to the snacks in her drawer for distraction. She found herself constantly trying to nibble away her frustrations.

She let out a long, tremulous sigh. Always she had been a lean, trim, five-foot-six inches until three years ago when she started gaining a few pounds here and there. Without dieting, the weight would come and go, depending on the situations in her life. Finally, it started staying on and even though it continued to go up and down, the ‘downs’ were not taking off all the weight the ‘ups’ were putting on. And now she was fourteen pounds overweight!

Billie knew it sounded much too simple to be true—but would it be possible that by controlling her environment, she could control her weight problem? Today it seemed totally and absolutely possible.

-

Dr. Sheldon Dodds Ackerman shot forward in his chair, stunned.

“
You can’t be serious, Neal! What do I know about teaching an all-female class? You asked me to trudge across the campus, in this biting January wind to . . . to inform me of this?”

The Dean of the School of Business, Neal Atwood, ignored the outburst.

“
Hear me out, Sheldon.”

Sheldon Ackerman leaned back in the chair, the expression on his face challenging his colleague for a logical explanation.

Unperturbed, the Dean began, “It will be Business Course 280 called Women In Business. It will be open, as we used to say, to both upper and lower classmen, or,” he added with a wink, “to be politically correct, ‘class women.’ Which means of course, the 100 level as well as the 300 level may take it.

Well, what do you think, Sheldon?” he asked, his self-satisfied smile matching the pompous, stodgy, academic demeanor that always tended to make Ackerman question his own decision to teach.

“
What . . .what do I think?” Ackerman jumped up from the leather, wing-back chair, and paced back and forth in front of the mammoth, ebony desk. Stopping suddenly, he leaned over the Dean’s desk and glared down at him. “As I said before, I know nothing about teaching an all-female class. And besides—it doesn’t make sense. If young women decide upon a career in business, they should take the regular business courses!”

“
Sit down, Sheldon,” Neal Atwood said, placating the visibly shaken man before him, continuing as if he hadn’t heard a word Ackerman had said. “I know you’re busy, but the class will start summer term when you won’t have a full teaching load.”

Thoroughly annoyed that the Dean wasn’t taking him seriously, Sheldon paced about the office again, then abruptly sat down. “If you’re determined to have this course, Neal, why not get Fred Collins to teach it?”

“
But you don’t understand, Sheldon. We decided on this class to enhance the image of the University. In the three years you’ve been part of the faculty, the two books you’ve written have brought some status to Fairfield University. It only makes sense that you be the one to teach it.”

In the professor’s mind, it was a useless program, and he articulated this opinion with great irritation.

Atwood, a short, paunchy man in his fifties, taking himself and his position a little too seriously, meticulously catered to the politics of university life.

“
Now, Sheldon, you know we live in a different era. We need to give some heed to the social issues of today.” Atwood had nodded his head with such vigor, his brown-rimmed glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose. Shoving them up, he leaned back in his chair, placed his hands upon the roundness protruding above his belt, and pontificated further upon the benefits of this particular program.

In the end, Sheldon, against his better judgment, agreed to teach what was, in his mind, a totally unnecessary class.

Billie Bliss studied herself in the mirror. Her face puckered in concern.

Here she was at the end of May, planted firmly in her
new environment
, and still she had gained five more pounds! Why? Or specifically, why was she still raiding the refrigerator?

Four months ago, she took what she considered life-changing steps in her career. She quit her job to go into business for herself. To prepare for this venture, she decided to take business courses spring and summer terms at Fairfield University here in Claytonville, where she had graduated six years ago in accounting.

The steps she took in her personal life were more difficult and emotionally charged. She had always lived at home through college and through her various jobs, so the first logical step was to move into her own apartment. The second was the decision to totally give up dating.

Billie knew that even with the steps taken to improve her life, there was still, what she had come to call in her own mind,
THE PROBLEM
. She had no control over
that
—but she hoped fervently that the changes she had made would at least insulate her from it. Also, she hoped the changes would automatically take care of her weight issues.

Discounting the packing and moving, for over three months she had lived in the new environment of her own apartment and in the protective cocoon of academia—away from the stress of real life and the stress of the marketplace. In spite of it—she had gained! Mentally, she carefully went back over everything.

When she enrolled for spring term on March first, she found that all the classes taught by the new and acclaimed Dr. Sheldon Ackerman were filled, so she audited one. She found his lectures brilliant and interesting. Having learned a lot from him, she planned to enroll early in order to get into his new summer term class, called “Women In Business.” The first six weeks of the audited class were pleasant and stimulating. Almost immediately, she had returned to her normal self—having no desire to snack excessively. However, as the term progressed, for some reason she started going downhill.

She frowned and shook her head as she thought about it. The only disconcerting thing in her life at the moment was how she was beginning to react to Dr. Ackerman. His lectures were so interesting, she hadn’t noticed at first; but something about him bothered her. What? Why? She couldn’t figure out the ‘what,’ so of course, she didn’t know ‘why.’ “Oh well . . .” she said to her reflection in the mirror, “I’m sure everything will turn out as I planned. It’ll just take a little time.”

It was Monday, the first of June and the first day of summer term. It was also the day Dr. Sheldon Dodds Ackerman would begin his new class—the dreaded all-female class! He asked himself, not for the first time, why he had let the Dean foist this upon him. In mounting agitation, he glanced at his watch, noting that it was almost 10:00 a.m. and time for the class to start. He quickly scanned his notes, dropped them back onto the desk, and stepped out of his office toward his classroom next door. The close proximity of his office and classroom was a convenience he had requested when he joined the faculty.

Like a man going to his own execution, he nervously entered the room.

Totally unaware of the collective buzz and furtive glances among the class members, he began his self-introduction as he moved toward the podium. There, with no preliminaries, he promptly launched into his lecture. First, he explained the purpose and goals of the class and what was expected of them; he then recounted his own experience with successful women in the business world.

Upon ending the lecture, he resisted the urge to bolt. Exiting as quickly as dignity would allow, he closeted himself inside his office.

-

Dr. Ackerman was unaware of the flurry of excitement that erupted the moment he left the room.

“
Did you notice he didn’t have a wedding band on?” a class member said, “Yes, I did notice, and I also noticed how handsome he is,” answered someone.

“
I couldn’t take my eyes off those blue, blue eyes!” exclaimed a young woman in a breathy voice.

One of the older members of the class, seated on the front row, had immediately noticed the professor’s classic, Roman profile—a nicely shaped, prominent nose and a strong jaw to match. Finding the front view just as distinctive, she found it difficult to keep her mind on his lecture. In addition, he seemed totally unaware of his good looks—something she found very attractive in a man. Standing up to leave, she turned to the class and stated emphatically, “An artist ought to paint that face!”

“
Oh, yes!” exclaimed a young girl beside her. “Isn’t he gorgeous with that gray hair and those dark brows?”

Billie Bliss had also noted the professor’s striking good looks when she first walked into his spring term class, but her decision to give up men, plus her vague and barely acknowledged annoyance with him, nullified any curiosity about him personally.

“
I wonder how old he is,” murmured someone.

“
I was wondering that too,” stated another.

Josie, probably the youngest in the class, said, “I’m sure he’s at least fifty.”

One a little older than Josie disagreed, “He’s no more than forty.”

An older girl announced, “He’s only in his late thirties.”

The following Wednesday, the whole class was in a quandary over his age and wound up making bets with each other—everyone, that is, except Billie Bliss. She listened from the sidelines, amused. She wasn’t the least bit curious about his age; however, she was puzzled over the contradictory nature of the man. His dress and mein were that of a sharp, well-to-do business man, but his personality was that of an eccentric and somewhat stuffy professor.

-

Two weeks later, sitting in Dr. Ackerman’s class, a dismayed Billie Bliss ruminated on the fact that her carefully planned new life was not working after all. Her mind wandered to the spring term class with Dr. Ackerman, remembering once more how something about him had begun to disconcert her.