In talking with Bill Rosenberg, a draftsman at Westinghouse, I mentioned my long trips to see Mardelle and wished she could come to see me sometime. He told me of a certain lake nearby in Indiana, where he went occasionally.

“My wife and I will be going there for a weekend in a couple of weeks,” Bill said, “why don’t you have her come up and you two go with us for the weekend? We have plenty of room in the cabin.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” I said, “I’ll write her a letter tonight inviting her.” I got her answer in a week. She agreed. She would come on. I was delighted to hear it. I could spend some time with her without interference by her stepmother who didn’t like me. I guess she had no use for a mountain hick. She had chased me out of her house in my college days.

The anticipated time came and passed with no word from Mardelle, and likewise no body. With a heavy heart I thanked Bill for the invitation and bade him go on without me. The explanation for the no-show was never made clear to me. I suspect that although Mardelle was over 21, the stepmother had a lot to do with it. I thought that at least Mardelle should have told me that she had changed her mind.