It's Bliss

by Alene Roberts

  It’s Bliss

  a modern, old-fashioned love story

  By Alene Roberts

  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 | jenniboss@gmail.com

  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.

  One

  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.

  Two

  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 audi
ted 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.”

  Three

  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.

  Carefully peeking above the shoulder of the girl seated in front of her, she studied him, realizing he was bothering her more than ever. In fact it was more than that; it had turned into a bona fide irritation. As she continued to watch him, trying to analyze why she was feeling this way, she finally realized it had something to do with the way he looked at the class. There! He was doing it again!

  -

  Glowering at the class, Dr. Ackerman shook his head over what he considered a wretched and irritating assortment. Twenty were enrolled, and not once had they all managed to be on time. And, he calculated, at least half of them were overweight or careless and slovenly in their dress. The rest had other problems. Several young women, who dressed neatly and seemed capable, weren’t dedicated students by any set of standards, especially his.

  What irritated Ackerman the most was that he felt sorry for these ignorant, misguided young women, and he intensely disliked feeling this way. This sentiment had grown each time he had faced their collective apathy these two long weeks. He seriously wondered if anyone in the class would succeed in the way she hoped or had a burning desire to do so, if indeed, he agonized, any one of them ever had a burning desire.

  Deciding he needed some feedback, he had asked the class to write down why they were taking this course and what their goals were in the business world. He watched from his desk as they struggled to fulfill this simple request.

  Deep lines appeared between Ackerman’s dark brows. He wondered how many of these young women felt good about themselves. How many felt their lives were out of control? He shook his head, marveling over how difficult it would be to manage a business or a career in business if one could not manage himself—herself.

  It was at this moment, an idea struck him. It couldn’t have affected him more if it had been a bolt of lightning. He jumped up from his seat as if he had been hit by it. Pacing back and forth behind his desk, he contemplated the idea, unaware that he had startled the class with his sudden movement. All heads swivelled silently side to side as they followed their eccentric professor and his unusual behavior. They watched his tall, angular, albeit well-built body moving while his head bobbed up and down as if he were agreeing with his own thoughts.

  The concerted ping-pong movement in front of him finally made its way into the professor’s consciousness. He stopped abruptly, catching these assembled heads almost, as it were, in mid-movement. Realizing that it was he who had disrupted them, he promptly sat down, staring at them sternly until they bowed their heads and returned to their work.

  And he returned to his deliberation on a most extraordinary concept. He needed an idea for another book. If this worked, it could be just what might help these poor fledglings, and at the same time, please the Dean, who in reality he could not care less about. Nevertheless, he leaned back in his chair, stretched out his long legs under the desk, and pondered on the idea, feeling quite pleased with himself.

  -

  Billie tried to analyze this puzzling performance. First, Dr. Ackerman was frowning at the class through black-rimmed glasses, as though inspecting some inferior species; now, glued to his face was a peculiar smile, and the tips of all his fingers were tapping together.

  Yes! She finally understood why he irritated her; it was his pompous and demeaning attitude. It was only two weeks into the term and she realized that this attitude was annoying her more each day. In fact, she had gained five pounds while auditing Dr. Ackerman’s class in the spring and now in only two weeks of this class, she had gained three more. It was happening again! To start with, she had been fourteen pounds over her desired weight. Now, she was twenty-two pounds overweight, mo
re than she had ever weighed.

  She went over every aspect of her life since returning to the university, mentally listing each change she had made: quitting her job, moving into her own apartment, and taking a business class. Suddenly, she realized something.

  There was only one common denominator to her weight issue—Dr. Ackerman!

  She gazed at the blank piece of paper on which she intended to write what he had requested. Feeling more irked by the minute, she impulsively printed in big block letters:

  IT’S YOUR FAULT DR. ACKERMAN!

  She signed her name and immediately felt better.

  Josie, a blonde, with an attractive wind-blown hair style, noticing that Dr. Ackerman was preoccupied, leaned over and whispered in Billie’s ear. “I really buttered up ol’ Dodds this time,” she said, using his middle name. “I told him my goal was to become president of this university. What did you put down for your goals, Billie?”

  “Absolutely nothing. I mean, I put something down, but not what he asked for.”

  “Oh-oh. You’ll be called into his office and that’s no fun, believe you me. He called me in a week ago and did I get a lecture.”

  Billie smiled at Josie, wondering why she was in this class or in college at all. She had managed to become a sophomore, yet still had the typical high school mentality of fun and boys.

  Dr. Ackerman’s low drawl boomed out. “Class is over. Please place your papers on my desk as you leave.”

  While the girls got their things together and did as he asked, his mind returned to a more stimulating venue—his idea. Leaning back in his chair, he gazed into space, thinking while the fingers of his right hand drummed upon the desk to the rhythm of his thoughts.