The Representative

By Ken Lord

AUDREY TIBBETTS is, today, a most outstanding business leader operating a home-based business with several hundred members of her downline involved in sales of a commercial commodity. She began her career in misery, but with the involvement of an outstanding mentor, PRESCOTT GARRETT, she emerges as a happy, successful businesswoman in a Multilevel Marketing effort (MLM). One by one she faces the crises common to a new mother with an intransigent spouse. Forced to take low-paid employment, she is unable to provide for her family when her husband is laid up and unable to work.

With a desire to attend school, she divorces a philandering spouse, increases her work hours, taps a waiting scholarship, and begins a business from her home in her spare time. Her employer, a high school classmate, puts her together with Prescott and he lays down challenge after challenge that cause her to face her fears, timidly put herself “out there,” and experience success. A little success becomes much larger, until she ultimately is faced with having to forgo her full-time employment in favor of her stay-at-home business.

When she pursues her studies, she encounters an instructor and the two hit it off far beyond the subject matter. Turn out that STANTON GARRETT is the son of her mentor, and is very supportive of his father’s effort to turn the shy Audrey into a business powerhouse.

Is what I present in this story realistic? I think so. I experienced a home-based business that produced sales in excess a quarter million dollars annually. I show Audrey, and by inference the reader, just how to do it. And I give Audrey a happy hereafter in the process.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ken Lord
• Release date: Jul 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476417226

Ken Lord

Author of more than 60 works of nonfiction, fiction, biography, historical fiction, and YA. Senior citizen living in suburban Syracuse, NY. 40 plus years of computer experience and a comparable amount of adult education. ABA and BSBA from University of Massachusetts Lowell, EdM from Oregon State University, and doctoral credits from the University of Arizona. And, are you ready for this? An Avon representative for nearly 18 years, a top seller, well awarded, and "the cutest Avon Lady" in Tucson, Arizona.

Book preview

Introduction

Princess House, Stanley Home Products, Pampered Chef, Nikken, Nu Skin Enterprises, Longaberger, Shaklee Associates, Tupperware, Watkins, Avon Products, Excel, Discovery Toys, NSA, Melaleuca, LegalShield, Herbalife, Mary Kay Cosmetics, Tahitian Noni, USANA, and Fuller Brush have all been opportunities for self-employment for more than a half-century. The list is endless. Wherever there has been a franchising opportunity, somebody has gone into business with a desire to become rich, maintain independence, or obtain personal growth. The granddaddy of them all has to be Amway, which has been around since 1959.

In any of these endeavors, the recruit joins the extended arm of a corporation organized to market and sell one or more products through nontraditional channels (read direct selling). For some, merely representing the company that chooses not to provide product to brick and mortar retail outlets is sufficient. Advertising monies are saved, while an independent sales force to which the company owes no benefit programs carries the company’s products worldwide. Watkins is like this, as is ACN, a recent start-up in the telephone industry. For others, the attraction, retention, and developing of a downline becomes paramount. A new vogue, the multi-level marketing system was born and is largely successful. The leader attracts, recruits, trains, and encourages the downline member, taking a slice of that person’s efforts as the reward. In this manner, there is residual income, at least to the extent of the originator’s involvement.

Direct Sales marketing has gained extraordinary favor in recent years. According to the Direct Sales Association, approximately sixteen million are people involved with direct sales in the United States:

Home/Family Care/Durables (cleaning products, cookware, cutlery): 24.4 %

Wellness (weight loss products, vitamins): 23.0 %

Personal Care (cosmetics, jewelry, skin care): 19.4 %

Services/Other: 19.2 %

Clothing & Accessories: 11.0 %

Leisure/Educational (books, videos, toys): 3.0 %

There are sixty million more in the rest of the world. Direct sales firms have large staffing turnovers. New people begin daily; few know how to launch a home-based business. This is a book of knowledge and wisdom; not only a how-to, but also a why-to. It is a course for the person who wishes to begin a successful home-based business. It teaches a no-withdrawal, no-retreat way to do it. To quote from the book: Success has a very simple formula; it’s when preparation meets opportunity.

In any of these schemes, and the word is used advisedly, there exists the possibility for Ponzi activities. The Federal Trade Commission takes a dim view of such. Thus, most available opportunities have proved that such structures are benevolent.

But marketing and sales are what it’s all about. No commissions exist where no sales are made. The man or woman embarking on such a vocation often finds that once injected into the stream there becomes the question of how it’s done. Formal training is virtually nonexistent. Worse, the novice often has a fear of interaction not unlike the stage fright faced by a new actor. You can find good treatises on selling by such luminaries as Tom Hopkins, but these somehow seem never precisely to fit. Here you’ll learn how Audrey, with a little help did it. Learn from her. The book is a business course wound into an easily-understood story.

This story is the account of a direct sales representative of a major company who begins her career under duress, learns from a professional in the same business, and becomes an outstanding success in her own right.

There are surprises in this book. Enjoy.

Chapter 1

The large octagonally shaped Simplex clock on the wall behind them was an old noisy piece. Minute by minute it sounded out the movement of the mechanism in that tick, tick, tick—with never a tock—and with an extra thunk sound every quarter hour and a chime that rang the time on the hour. If Brad had remembered to wind and set it correctly this week, it was at least within a few minutes of accurate. The former company owner had claimed that it had been bought new but Brad Jensen, the foreman, had said he suspected old Phil Foster had found it at an auction a few years back in Indiana. Everybody who worked at Foster Electronics was certain that the company wasn’t as old as the date etched upon the frontal glass that covered the pendulum, 1903.

They didn’t even have electronics in 1903, did they? asked Rosie Lewis as the foreman walked up and down the line observing his cadre of women assemblers.

Don’t be quite so certain, said Brad. Somewhere in there a guy named Lee DeForest invented the vacuum tube and another guy, Guglielmo Marconi, made the first radio transmission across the Atlantic.

That’s right, said Sally Adams. The first vacuum tube was called an Audion. It was improved by a guy named Michael Faraday. Marconi transmitted from Nova Scotia to Europe in 1903.

How do you know that, Sally? asked Rosie.

Oh, my kid brother used to be a ham radio nut and there were questions about that on the test. I helped him to get ready.

What do you think about that, Audrey?

Audrey Evans looked up from her magnifying glass, where she had been soldering capacitors into place on a circuit board. In a somewhat flat and weak voice, she said, What do I think about what, Brad?

What do you think about DeForest, Faraday, and Marconi?

Who?

Never mind, Audrey. Brad’s just showing off, showing us how much education he has. Rosie Lewis crinkled her nose and snarled the word education as she pronounced it.

Audrey looked around at the young ladies there on the assembly line. I wouldn’t know. That year—1903—was a little before my time. I guess my mind was elsewhere.

It usually is, snarled the foreman.

It sounds like one of those lawyer ads on TV—DeForest, Faraday, and Marconi.

Earth to Audrey, said the foreman. What’s happenin’?

It’s Hal . . . today . . . . She paused and looked directly at the foreman. I . . . I’ll . . . I’ll need to leave early today.

What! Why didn’t you tell me this last week? You know we have to get these circuit boards out of here by Wednesday.

Get off her back, Brad, the brash Rosie said to the foreman.

The older woman, Sally, piped up: What’s the story, Audrey?

Hal’s in the hospital, continued Audrey. He’s coming home this evening. I have to pick him up at the medical center at four.

By this time, the small group of women had gathered around to listen. What happened? asked another woman.

Last Wednesday, Hal fell and broke his leg. He’s been in the hospital since then. He gets out today with his leg in a cast.

You never said a word, spouted Brad. Why didn’t you say something?

For a moment, Audrey looked around at the group. With obvious tears welling up, she turned and ran from the room, just as the Simplex on the wall chimed out lunchtime. Brad made a move to catch up, but Rosie Lewis jumped in front of him. Like I said, joined in Rosie, get off her back. She obviously has problems.

*****

Audrey Evans, twenty-three-year-old mother of two, worked full-time, five days a week, as an electronic assembler for the Foster Electronics Company, a manufacturer of circuit boards for communications hardware. It wasn’t a job she liked. Had she her heart’s desire, she’d be at home, making a nest for her two children, Joyce—four, and Freddie—five months, and of course her husband Harold— Hal, as he was called. But finances had tightened after Hal’s insistence on a new house. To make ends meet, Audrey had to go to work. And now this. Stretched to her limit already, Audrey had found it nearly impossible to be both a full-time worker and a full-time wife and mother. She had attempted to go to school, but the pressures of merely existing had made that impossible.

She hadn’t had much of a work history. When she graduated from Hillsford High School, the sneaky creeps who had produced the yearbook had declared her to be destined for less than a glorious future and suggested that she’d better find a Mr. Right who was well heeled enough to carry her through to old age. The guidance counselor, whose responsibility it had been to edit the yearbook, was mortified when the finished product declared Audrey Tibbets, as she was then known, as Most Likely To Fail.

An investigation found that just before printing, school troublemakers LuLu Francone and Donald Johnson had done a paste-over under Audrey’s picture, and by the time the substitution had been discovered, books for the entire graduating class plus about three hundred additional books had been produced and distributed. To reprint the corrected book would have cost nearly ten thousand dollars, money neither the graduating class nor the school system could spare.

Audrey’s parents moved to sue the Hillsford school system, but at their lawyer’s advice withdrew the suit when they were told that the process could take years and even if they were successful, the payoff might be slight. Further, the books had already been distributed; the damage had been done. To its credit, the school, though required by law to award the graduation diplomas, refused to permit the valedictorian, LuLu, and the salutatorian, Donald, to attend graduation ceremonies.

It was the first time in school history that the graduation class’ notables had been absent from the ceremony. In their places, Principal Dana Benson explained the two empty seats in the front row of the graduating class this way: We are saddened, graduating Seniors and parents, that this year’s program will be absent presentations from the Valedictorian, LuLu Francone and the Salutatorian, Donald Johnson. You see, for all the knowledge they may have gained at Hillsford, they have neglected to learn one very important thing: one does not go through life hurting others, either physically or emotionally. I’m certain that by now all are aware of the transgressions of this pair, which accounts for another empty seat amid the group. Unfortunately, there is no way we can directly punish them at this point. We can’t expel them. They’ve completed high school. Neither can we deny them graduation. What we can do is to deny them the ability to attend today and the honors they have achieved. And we can do one thing more. On the transcripts, which will be required for college entry, we will enter that their honors have been stripped for disciplinary reasons. He continued, Unfortunately, we cannot afford to reprint the yearbook to correct the damage done. There are no funds and . . . .

He cleared his throat before continuing, but as he did, there was a small commotion in the parent’s section of the auditorium. A man, standing at his seat beside the aisle in the balcony shouted: Principal Benson, what would it cost to reprint the yearbook?

Referring to his notes, the principal said, About ten thousand dollars, Mr. Fredericks. He had recognized the parent, Sam Fredericks, local car dealer, who moved down the stairs and up the main aisle to the platform. Asking permission to address the audience, Fredericks spoke these words: It is sad; no, it is a travesty, that the mischievous work of these two prima donnas should go uncorrected. By your leave, Principal Benson, I wish to donate the sum of two thousand dollars to make it right.

Dana Benson gasped and started to rise to speak, but before he had the opportunity, Fredericks turned to the audience and spoke forcefully, Now I don’t expect anyone to match my contribution. God has been good to me. But I do ask you to contribute as much as you can—fifty dollars, one hundred dollars, two hundred or more. Let’s not let this deed be rewarded. One by one, like popcorn testimonies at a prayer meeting, parents rose to pledge varying sums of money. Aware of what was happening, school secretary Mary Schaeffer began to take notes. When the pledge activity ceased, she ran a quick calculation, rose and approached the stage, and handed the paper to Principal Benson. The aging principal looked at the paper, looked back to his secretary and thanked her for her effort, then moved to stand beside the car dealer, showing him the total written on the paper.

Ladies and gentlemen, began Principal Benson. Your generosity is overwhelming. The sum adds up to something above fourteen thousand dollars. It looks like we will be able to reprint the yearbook to correct this egregious error.

Stop! came the scream. It wasn’t an error. The audience turned toward the left rear door of the auditorium, where Audrey Tibbets stood, dressed in a blouse and baggy blue jeans—not graduation attire. Slowly, Audrey moved down the aisle toward the podium, speaking as she moved. They feel that way about me, and many students laughed when they read it. There was obvious discomfort within the graduating class.

Meeting her at the stairway, both Mr. Fredericks and Principal Benson assisted her to the stage, after which Mr. Fredericks descended the stairs and took a seat at the side of the auditorium. May I speak, Mr. Benson? asked Audrey.

Certainly.

*****

Audrey moved to the lectern, adjusted the microphone, and slowly surveyed her audience from left to right. One could hear a pin drop; it was that quiet in the room.

She spoke gently, People who are not shy have no understanding of those of us who are. A long pause ensued, and there was nervous shifting of bodies on the hard wooden seats in the audience. People who are not shy seem to fear little. Or perhaps they fear much and push shy people around merely to hide their insecurities. Another pause. More fidgeting.

Looking at the front twenty rows, she said, For four long years I have carried the butt of your criticism because I am not a mixer . . . because I avoid groups . . . because I take interest in books and not in boys . . . or cheerleading . . . or sports. A twitter passed throughout the graduating class. Continuing, "I have walked alone in the corridor. People have sat a desk or more away from me until there were no more seats and people had to sit beside me.

I’ve not been a part of the cliques. I would never be a candidate for the most popular girl at school. Both boys and girls have treated me as if I am transparent . . . for four years. Yet I’ve been everywhere you have been . . . everywhere. I played in the orchestra. I sang in the choir. I worked part-time in the library. I played on the soccer field during phys-ed. And never did you, George . . . never did you, Alice . . . never did you and you . . . . As she slowly spoke, she pointed an accusatory finger at each section of her graduating class. "Never did any of you accept me for what I am: a shy, friendless, terrified young girl who wanted nothing more than to be accepted for what I am.

What I am, she continued, is a teenager about to enter adulthood, one you’ve designated as most likely to fail—yes, it was an unfortunate prank of the Homecoming King and Queen—and yes, it hurts like hell. But the truth is that it is the way you see me, and the eyes through which you have seen me for these last four rotten years. And nothing I can do or say can undo that.

There was a decidedly disconcerted audience before the platform, and while there were utterances of I didn’t mean it and You must be mistaken, the fact remained that the Senior Class of Hillsford High School did indeed perceive Audrey Tibbets as she had described. A hush settled over the students and their parents.

No amount of money can undo the damage, she continued. Yes, the books can be recalled, assuming you could get them all, which I doubt. The books can be reprinted and everything made to appear all right. But things will never be all right. LuLu and Donald will always be remembered as the top class members who were stripped of their honors. This graduation ceremony will always be remembered for the awkwardness of the situation. And I will always be remembered for being the terrified young girl who is hanging onto this lectern for dear life, trying to explain to five hundred people why a shy reclusive teenaged girl will not permit you to spend ten thousand dollars to sanitize a malignant memory. You would be wise to put that money to better use, to find ways to keep this from happening again, to obtain more and better equipment, and perhaps to provide financial assistance to someone who couldn’t afford to join a school group.

Sam Fredericks jumped to his feet and said, How about we take the money and give it to you as a scholarship for college? He looked around the audience, seeking agreement.

When the noise died down, Audrey continued: I’m sorry, that will not be possible. There will be no college for me. Look at how I am dressed and you will see that by the middle of the fall I will be the mother of a little girl. And learn that shy, friendless people often feel unloved, and because of that make mistakes in judgment. There were audible gasps from the audience, after which she continued, No, take the money and put it to good use here. There are shy people—not only shy girls, but also shy young men—who need encouragement at Hillsford High. Not next week. Not next year. Today. You don’t have to spend your money to fix my feelings. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.

She finished her speech, folded her notes, turned and addressed the principal. May I have my diploma, Mr. Benson? Somewhat nervously, he said, Yes, moved to a table there on the stage, searched through the stacks of diplomas for hers, turned, moved to where Audrey was and faced the audience. He was interrupted by Audrey, who quietly said, No, just give it to me. He handed the folder to the young girl, who then bowed to the principal, descended the stairs, and strode from the room, crying her eyes out, but having snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. Three hundred students rose, clapped, cheered, and stomped on the floor.

*****

It took several minutes before order was restored to the room, when everybody had again taken a seat and silence had overtaken the crowd. During the entire time, Principal Benson merely stood and stared at the graduating class. When he again had control of the session, he spoke, slowly and deliberately.

Have you any idea whatsoever about what just happened here? Have you any estimate of the amount of courage that Audrey Tibbets had to bring forth to do what she just did? He surveyed the room, waited for the full impact of the questions to sink in, then continued. "I’ve known Audrey for the four years she has been here. I’ve known her to be a good student. I’ve known her to be a willing and pleasant worker. And I’ve known very well that she has been as shy as anyone I have ever met. ‘Still waters,’ it is said, ‘run deep.’ What I did not know is that despite her obvious insecurities, she has a burning passion for success unequaled by most people here. She is, in no way, the person most likely to fail.

I am as guilty as anyone for not finding a way to encourage Audrey to come out of her shell. I’ve seen her as merely a singer in the choir, no more, no less. She wasn’t an outstanding student. else I would have been more aware of her accomplishments. She wasn’t a troublemaker, else I would have known her more thoroughly for her reputation. To me she was just another student, one of more than a thousand in the school. It is too bad that one got by without the training and encouragement toward success that a good high school should provide. Many of you will be going on to college, and we certainly wish you well. For those of you who are battling loneliness and shyness, I can only encourage you to find help confronting it, and even after you leave Hillsford High, please feel free to darken my door. Those of you in the audience who are lower classmen, I hope that you will take what happened here to heart and carry from this room a responsibility to reach out to help peers, to reach down to help someone behind you on the ladder to success.

He paused and surveyed the audience. "While people are different, there will always be a Mr. Popular and a Miss Popularity. That’s the way things always have been and probably the way they will always be. Being the best you can be, however, doesn’t change the fact that you will be better as you encourage somebody else to be better. In a teen age world of drugs, gangs, and extraordinary social pressures, remember that no man—no woman—is an island. We live very much in an interdependent world. We need the popular people, for the very thing that makes them popular will make them the spokespeople for every worthy cause under the sun, and their likeability will ensure that their undertakings become successful. For them, though there is a lot of work ahead, they already have a leg up, an inherent advantage.

But we also need the shy people, and we may need them every bit as much or more than the others. Those who are quiet and reserved tend also to be more studious and intense. Many become the researchers and unsung heroes who may find cures to diseases we do not know about yet. And many, those in the choir, will go on to careers of outstanding success as they mature and blossom. We know all about frogs that turn into princes. We know all about ugly ducklings that become swans. But today, we learned about someone who, though labeled a potential failure by her peers, has the guts—the intestinal fortitude—to stand up for what she believes. Audrey will find some degree of success in her life. She may have made some mistakes. Who among us has done everything perfectly, after all? But given time and encouragement, and interaction with people who have had success, who knows how far that young lady can go?

Principal Benson again surveyed the group, and continued. It had been my plan to give the usual ‘Rah! Rah! Go get ‘em’ kind of speech today. Every one of you would have received a diploma and gone home to begin to get on with your lives. We, the faculty and staff would have congratulated ourselves and had a little party to celebrate the generation of another three hundred people pushed out into the job market, and everybody would be happily off on summer vacation, to begin again in September.

He smiled wearily. Don’t worry. You’ll get your diplomas. You’ll get to celebrate your achievements, and we certainly wish you well as you begin your adult lives. As for me and my ‘rah, rah’ speech, I guess there is no way I will attempt to upstage Audrey.

Sam Fredericks rose from his chair at the base of the stage and addressed the group. Again, I ask that the money that has been pledged be directed toward Audrey’s college, once she is able to begin it. One by one the donors rose to confirm the commitment, including several of the Senior Class who spoke to offer additional contributions. One by one all the parents and students sat back down, all except one: Dan Foster, Senior Class President. Principal Benson, he began, then turned toward the audience. As President of the Senior Class, I should like to offer my services, along with Principal Benson and Mr. Fredericks to gather the funds, contact some local colleges, and present Audrey Tibbets with her opportunity for success by arranging a college scholarship for her at a college acceptable to her. He paused and looked up at the principal and around the audience. If you can keep things a secret for at least a month, I think we can help Audrey onto a good track for her success. Can we do that?

A roar of approval carried through the auditorium. When the noise subsided, the President of the Senior Class continued: As some of you know, I will not be going on to college, at least not immediately. Unfortunately, my father died a couple of months ago, and the company he founded has passed into my mother’s hands. We have kept it working since then, helped by people there. Beginning Monday I will be assuming the reins my father left as head of Foster Electronics. It will be a year before Audrey will head off to college. Meanwhile, it will be my privilege to offer employment to her.

Again the audience approved. And with the thanks and good wishes of the principal and the benediction of the service’s chaplain, the graduating class of Hillsford High passed from the halls of ivy into the world.

Chapter 2

Harold Evans—Hal to nearly everybody who knew him well—did not take well to the idea of impending fatherhood. A sophomore at Crystal College, majoring in electrical engineering, he rightly foresaw not only a temporary setback in his education, but also the potential limits upon his future. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for Audrey Tibbets. He did. And when she told him of her pregnancy, he had been skeptical. She assured him that she had visited a doctor and that the birth of a little girl was to be expected in early September. She reminded him of the visit to his apartment over the Christmas holiday.

But Hal Evans was a BMOC at Crystal—a big man on campus—and there were a lot of college fish in the sea. He wasn’t about to let one date’s indiscretion alter his plans for his life. Two more years, a degree in EE, and a high-paying job in the power transmission industry awaited him. He couldn’t let a baby sidetrack his ambitions now. No, that couldn’t possibly happen. He would just claim ignorance and perhaps it would go away.

That was before he encountered Al Tibbets, Audrey’s father, who showed up at Hal’s door, accompanied by Hal’s own father, Bernie. Once inside the apartment, Al wasted no time getting to the point. Audrey tells me you two are about to become parents. Both fathers took a seat on an available living-room couch.

Agitated, Hal began to pace. No, it is not possible. I used protection.

So you acknowledge that you and Audrey have had sex?

Yes, but she agreed, and as I said, I used protection.

Well now you know how good those products can be, interjected Bernie.

Dad . . . , protested Hal.

Continuing, Al asked, Hal, how old are you?

Twenty-one, almost twenty-two, but it couldn’t be possible. It just couldn’t.

Al Tibbets reached into a small briefcase, extracted a paper and handed it to the young man.

What’s this? asked Hal.

A court order mandating a blood test for DNA sampling. I can get the Sheriff to serve it, if you wish. We can know, in just a few days, whether the baby is yours. Audrey swears that it is, and as shy as Audrey is, and the fact that I know she has been dating you, the odds are in favor of your paternity, Hal.

But it can’t be, Mr. Tibbets. We used protection.

Al Tibbets looked toward Hal’s father and back to Hal. Hal, have you any idea of Audrey’s age?

Nervously, Hal Evans took a deep breath and said Eighteen?

Is that what she told you?

Well, I guess, said the young man. He knew that was a lie.

"Seventeen, Hal. Seventeen last March. Have you any idea how old she was when you came to visit over the Christmas holidays?

Hal Evans swallowed hard. He knew what was coming.

That’s right, Hal, sixteen. She was just sixteen. Do you know what the penalty is for statutory rape?

Now somewhat contrite, Hal Evans said haltingly, No . . . ,sir.

Audrey says it happened here, that you left the house and came here for the afternoon. Is that true?

Yes, sir, but . . . .

But me no buts, young sir. There’s an imaginary line that crosses the highway between here and home. It’s called the state line. And crossing a state line for immoral purposes is known as a violation of the Mann Act. If memory serves, you could get as much as ten to fifteen in the state pen for statutory rape and violation of the Mann Act. Am I making any sense here, boy?

Again, Hal Evans swallowed hard and acknowledged the pickle he was in.

Shall we arrange for the blood test, Hal?

Hal Evans looked for guidance from his father Bernie, who, up to now, had sat quietly on the couch. He paused for a few seconds, then spoke: No, that will not be necessary, sir. What now?

You have your choice. You can marry here. You can marry at home. Or you can elope to Las Vegas to marry. It makes no difference to me. However, it must happen no later than July or August. Your daughter, my granddaughter, will not enter the world without a name. Welcome to the Tibbets family, son.

Bernie Evans removed some documents from his jacket pocket. Here are two tickets to Las Vegas. It had better happen there. Your mother is mortified. The trip is scheduled. You had better get on the phone and make hotel arrangements. It appears I, too, am about to become a grandfather, and I’m looking forward to it. This may not be to your liking, Hal, but you were brought up to be responsible. What you and Audrey choose to do later is up to you, but this new child will begin life with two in-the-house parents. It will be a struggle, and both our families will be there to help our children. And it does look as if you don’t have a lot of choice.

*****

Audrey had begun to date Hal Evans when she was a junior in high school. Hal had preceded her by two years and was now a sophomore at Crystal College, just fifty miles away in the next state. Some of her family was aware that she was interested in Hal, but it was a secret at Hillsford High School, where she attended.

The first two years had been difficult at Hillsford. Not being one to mix with the other students, Audrey had become a loner. Her mother had recommended that Audrey would be successful at high school if she avoided cliques, got involved in the activities that interested her, stayed away from high school boys, studied hard—for her future, her mother had said—and volunteered for little. Like her mother, Audrey, it seemed, was destined to operate alone. Because she wasn’t attractive; because she wasn’t an outstanding student; because she didn’t flirt with the boys, and because she avoided the gatherings of girls, she was branded an outcast and shunned. Her father was a successful businessman, but her mother had contented herself with the security her marriage provided and did nothing to challenge the capabilities of her only child.

Audrey got acceptable grades, spent a lot of time in the library reading, sang in the chorus, and became somewhat transparent in her surroundings. Her closest friend, it seemed, was a West Highland White Terrier named MacTavish. It was to MacTavish that Audrey confided her loneliness. It was to MacTavish that Audrey felt free and easy to converse. MacTavish was witness to the many times that she cried herself to sleep. And it was to MacTavish that she retreated every time something seemed to overwhelm her. Mac, as she called the dog, seemed to understand that Audrey needed him and stayed close by her side every time she came home, until that final day in her senior year when he died.

At school, nobody was cruel to her. They ignored her, although she knew that they talked about her behind her back. Few students seemed to care to include her in anything. As the four years dragged on, she progressively withdrew emotionally, choosing to bury her nose in the books of the library. She avoided every possibility of personal risk. She would participate only in activities that involved several others—the school choir and physical activities, such as soccer. Others began to make