Lessons in Chemistry(118)

She took a step back, surprised, as the audience rose to its feet, roaring its agreement.

“BEFORE I GO,” she shouted, “I THOUGHT YOU’D BE INTERESTED TO HEAR—” She held up her hands to quiet the audience. “Does anyone remember a Mrs. George Fillis—the woman who had the audacity to tell us she wanted to become a heart surgeon?” She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a letter. “I have an update. It seems that Mrs. Fillis has not only completed her premed studies in record time but has also been accepted to medical school. Congratulations Mrs. George—no, I’m sorry—Marjorie Fillis. We never doubted you for a second.”

With that news, the audience instantly regained its vigor, and Elizabeth, despite her normally serious demeanor, pictured Dr. Fillis scrubbing in and could not help it. She smiled.

“But I’m betting Marjorie would agree,” Elizabeth said, raising her voice again, “that the hard part wasn’t returning to school, but rather having the courage to do so.” She strode to her easel, marker in hand. CHEMISTRY IS CHANGE, she wrote.

“Whenever you start doubting yourself,” she said, turning back to the audience, “whenever you feel afraid, just remember. Courage is the root of change—and change is what we’re chemically designed to do. So when you wake up tomorrow, make this pledge. No more holding yourself back. No more subscribing to others’ opinions of what you can and cannot achieve. And no more allowing anyone to pigeonhole you into useless categories of sex, race, economic status, and religion. Do not allow your talents to lie dormant, ladies. Design your own future. When you go home today, ask yourself what you will change. And then get started.”

From all over the country women leapt from their sofas and pounded on kitchen tables, calling out in a combination of excitement for her words and heartache for her departure.

“Before I GO,” she shouted over the din, “I’d like to thank a very special FRIEND. Her name is HARRIET SLOANE.”

From Elizabeth’s living room, Harriet’s jaw dropped.

“Harriet,” Mad breathed. “You’re famous!”

“As you know,” Elizabeth continued, again quieting the audience with her hands, “I’ve always wrapped my shows by telling your children to set the table so that you might have a moment for yourself. ‘A moment for yourself’—that was the advice Harriet Sloane gave me the first day I met her, and that is the advice that has resulted in my decision to leave Supper at Six. It was Harriet who told me to use that moment to reconnect with my own needs, to identify my true direction, to recommit. And thanks to Harriet, I finally have.”

“Holy mother of god,” Harriet said, turning pale.

“Boy, Pine is going to kill you,” Mad said.

“Thank you, Harriet,” Elizabeth said. “Thanks to all of you,” she said nodding at the audience. “And so for the last time, I’d like to ask your children to set the table. And then I’m going to ask each of you to take a moment and recommit. Challenge yourselves, ladies. Use the laws of chemistry and change the status quo.”

Again, the audience rose to its feet, and again the clapping was thunderous. But as Elizabeth turned to go, it was obvious the audience was not going anywhere—not without one last directive. Unsure of how to proceed, she looked to Walter. He motioned with his hand as if he had an idea, then scribbled something on a cue card and held it up for her to see. She nodded, then turned back to the camera.

“This concludes your introduction to chemistry,” she announced. “Class dismissed.”





Chapter 42



Personnel





JANUARY 1962


It had been everyone’s assumption—everyone being Harriet, Walter, Wakely, Mason, and Elizabeth herself—that she would be flooded with employment offers. Universities, research labs, perhaps even the National Institutes of Health. Despite the mockery Life magazine had made of her life, she’d been a prominent personality, a television celebrity.

But it didn’t happen. In fact, nothing happened. Not only did she not receive a single call, but her résumés to research concerns were completely ignored. Despite her daytime popularity, the scientific community continued to entertain significant doubt regarding her academic credentials. Dr. Meyers, Dr. Donatti—very important chemists—were quoted in Life magazine as having said she wasn’t really a scientist. That was all it took.

And thus she was introduced to the other truism of fame: that it was fleeting. The only Elizabeth Zott anyone was interested in was the one who’d worn an apron.



* * *



—

“You could always return to the show,” Harriet said as Elizabeth came in through the door with Six-Thirty, her arms full of library books. “You know Walter would put you back on today if you’d let him.”

“I know,” she said, setting the books down, “but I can’t. At least the reruns are doing well. Coffee?” she asked, lighting a Bunsen burner.

“I don’t have time. I’m meeting with my attorney. But here,” Harriet said, pulling little notes out of her apron pocket. “Dr. Mason wants to talk about new uniforms for the women’s team and—are you ready for this?—Hastings called. I almost hung up. Can you imagine? Hastings. They have a lot of nerve calling here.”