Evie Walton was a pleasingly plump woman in her late forties. She had beautiful prematurely gray hair and was extremely intelligent, quite attractive, and extraordinarily affectionate.

Evie was married to Hicks Walton. Big roly-poly Hicks was in his early fifties, with his white hair parted in the middle. Hicks was a corporate CEO and just as nice and affectionate as his wife. Evie and Hicks Walton were far and away Theresa’s favorite relatives.

“What can I do for you, young lady?” asked Aunt Evie after the two hugged for what seemed like forever and kissed each other’s cheeks about fifty times.

“Don’t really know,” answered Theresa.

“Hungry?”

“Ravenous!!”

When they had finished pancakes with hot syrup and butter, a rasher of bacon, and a pot of coffee, and while the two were still seated at the breakfast table in the kitchen, Evie Walton explained an idea of hers to her niece. She said, “Theresa, honey, I knew I would see you eventually and I had this idea I thought might be good for you. How would you like to go back to school?”

“No fucking way!” said her niece.

Aunt Evie slapped the kitchen table hard with the open palm of her right hand. The thwack scared the hell out of Theresa. Made her jump an inch or so off her chair.

“You listen to me, young lady,” growled Evie Walton. “When we talk to each other, you watch your language, mind your manners, hear me out, do not interrupt, and most important you behave like a lady. Do you understand that, Miss Wisenheimer?”

“Yes,” answered Theresa.

Theresa Mendavey listened attentively while her aunt Evie told her about a writing class offered at Sarah Lawrence College to female high school dropouts. Aunt Evie had heard about the course from a friend whose daughter had applied. Evie Walton looked into the situation for her niece. She explained the following to Theresa. “If after your first full term you have passing grades, which you’ll surely have, you will be admitted into the general student population as a sophomore and you can get your college degree in liberal arts. If you want to do this, we don’t have to let your parents know right away. There’s no need to have your father or mother poking around, interfering with this opportunity to get yourself a college education, which they will certainly do. How long have you been away from home now?”

“A long time.”

“Have you heard from either my brother or your mother since you’ve been gone?”

“Nope.”

“Figures. The only time they’ll bother to get involved is if you ask them for money. Best to keep them out of it for now. So…your uncle Hicks will happily pay your tuition. After you get started you can surprise your parents and tell them what you’re doing whenever you want to. I’m pretty sure they’ll be delighted to hear you’ve graduated college since they last heard from you.”