He closed the folder. “Lack of payment.”
Addie’s jaw dropped. “L-lack…” She shook her head. “There must be a mistake.”
“There’s no mistake, Miss Cowherd. The tuition and board payments ceased to arrive in February. Your parents were allowed our standard three-month grace period, but despite repeated letters requesting payment, no monies were sent. Thus, we have no choice but to prohibit you from attending classes.”
“But it’s only a week to the end of the term. Won’t I be allowed to take my final examinations?”
“I’m afraid not.” The man’s expression and tone revealed he took no pleasure in delivering the mandate, but that recognition did little to comfort her. “Campus personnel and each of your instructors have been informed of the decision. Any attempts to enter classrooms or the cafeteria will be met with an immediate response from security officers.”
Who would escort her away in humiliation. She’d witnessed such happenings more times than she cared to recall during her years at the college. With so many families struggling financially due to the stock market crash of ’29, college was a luxury many couldn’t afford. She never thought she’d be one of the unfortunate ones, though.
She shifted to the edge of the chair and implored the man with her eyes. “Dean Crane, there must be some sort of mistake. I’ll call my parents. I’m positive they’ll send the money right away.” They’d never denied her anything she truly needed. And she needed her degree. “If they promise to do so, may I stay?”
“It’s been three months, Miss Cowherd.”
Fear and worry battled for prominence. “But my father never lets bills go unpaid. Not ever. The payments must have gotten lost in the mail. Or stolen.” Yes, that had to be it. She stood. “Aren’t there desperate people everywhere? Someone must have known there was money in the envelopes and taken them before they could reach the college. There can be no other explanation.”
Dean Crane stared at her for several seconds, lips set in a grim line, beady eyes narrowed. Finally, he sighed. “Very well. Contact your parents. Ask if they sent payments for March, April, or May.” He pulled a gold watch from his vest pocket and scowled at it. “Come back at three o’clock and apprise me of their response. If there’s been, as you suspect, a mistake, I’ll speak with the committee about making an exception.”
Addie nearly collapsed from relief. “Thank you, sir.”
“Although you may not attend classes or take meals in the cafeteria until the financial matter is rectified, you may remain in the dormitory until the end of term. I understand from the business office manager that your room bill is current.”
“Yes, sir. I work all day Saturday and a few hours each Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday cataloging books at the city library to pay for my room.”
“Very commendable.”
“Thank you.” Daddy had insisted she contribute toward her education, claiming she would appreciate it more if she helped pay the bill. She’d resented it at first, but she’d come to realize he was right. Even though she had to give nearly every penny she earned to the college, it gave her a sense of pride and satisfaction to know she was helping to pay her way.
“Dean Crane,” the secretary’s voice intruded from the little box on the corner of the dean’s desk, “your next appointment is here.”
He rose with a slow unfolding of his legs and rounded the desk, gesturing for Addie to precede him. At the door, he offered the closest thing to a smile she’d seen since she entered the room. “I wish you well in your search for answers, Miss Cowherd. I’ll see you at three.”
Addie scurried out, avoiding eye contact with the student waiting to enter. Was he facing a similar fate? She set a quick pace up the hallway, grateful the pleats in her skirt allowed her to take long strides. The sooner she reached a public telephone and called Mother, the sooner this embarrassing situation would be put to right.
She pattered down the stairs to the first floor and joined the flow of students. The scent of waffles and syrup wafted from the cafeteria. Her stomach growled, and she placed her hand against her belly, grimacing. She’d skipped breakfast after taking a little extra time preparing for her meeting with the dean. If she’d gone with Felicity for her customary coffee and toast with jam earlier that morning, would she have been barred from entering the cafeteria? Imagining the humiliating scene was enough to make her cheeks burn. She needed to straighten out this embarrassing situation as quickly as possible.
She wove between others, perspiration prickling her skin. Not yet ten o’clock, and already the air creeping through the open windows was hot and humid. She’d likely need a change of clothes before she met with Dean Crane again. At the very least, she’d give herself a quick wash in the dormitory lavatory. What a relief to know she wouldn’t be booted from the campus, thanks to her paying her room bill separately. She wouldn’t receive another paycheck from the library until the end of the month, and she didn’t have enough money for train fare to go home to Scott County. But how could she remain on the campus and not attend classes without feeling completely out of place? Although only five and a half years old when she was ushered through the door of the Kentucky Orphans’ Asylum, she’d never forgotten the feeling of displacement, of knowing she didn’t belong. She had no desire to revisit that uncomfortable feeling.
She reached the section of the building that housed the business office. Swiping away the perspiration tickling her temples, she trotted the last few yards to the end of the wide hallway, where a row of booths holding telephones were available for the students’ use. A female student stood in the far right booth, chattering animatedly about attending a recent fraternity dance. Addie took the booth at the far left. She sent up a quick prayer that the girl wouldn’t overhear her conversation, then lifted the handset from its cradle. Placing it to her ear, she poked her finger in the little circle for 0 and rotated the dial. She cringed at the discordant ack-ack-ack as the dial spun back into place.
An operator answered.
Addie cupped her hand around her mouth. “Yes, would you please connect me to the operator in Georgetown, Kentucky?”
“One moment, miss.”
Addie tapped her foot and sent surreptitious glances over her shoulder while she waited for a connection. When she thought her chest might burst from impatience, a voice crackled in her ear. “Georgetown. Your number, please.”
Addie recited her family’s number and pressed the phone tight against her ear while shifting from foot to foot. She willed Mother to answer quickly and ease her fears, as she’d done since Addie was a child of six. Even though she hadn’t been born to Penrose and Fern Cowherd, they’d always treated her as if she had. How she loved and appreciated them for taking in a sad little orphaned girl and giving her such a grand life.