The following is a quick blurb from Elizabeth Kloepfer’s book ‘The Phantom Prince,’ published in 1981:

‘Coming so close to losing Ted made me realize how very, very much I loved him. I found the idea of working and putting him through law school appealing, but I could understand that taking on family responsibilities before he even started law school might be a real drag for him. Ted planned to start law school the winter quarter of 1970, but Temple University did not get his transcripts out in time, so he was held up for another quarter. I kept reminding him to check up on his application to be sure everything was in order, but he regarded my reminders as nagging, and whenever I tried to talk about law school, he changed the subject or brushed my questions aside with vague answers. When I began to realize the futility of nagging, I made the decision to shut up about it. Spring quarter of 1970 started and still no word about law school. ‘There seems to be some problem with my transcripts from Temple,’ Ted told me. ‘Why didn’t you call them?’ I asked. ‘I guess there are other problems,’ he said. ‘It’s too late to do anything about it now.’ I couldn’t figure it out. What other problems? I couldn’t keep from brooding about it. One day I dialed the law school telephone number a couple of times but hung up each time before anyone answered. What could I say? Finally, I called the admissions office. I began to explain about my friend who was supposed to start law school winter quarter, when I was interrupted by the woman I was speaking to. ‘All law school students start at the beginning of fall quarter,’ she said. ‘There are no exceptions.’ There must be some mistake, I told myself. Then it dawned on me whose mistake it was. I was livid by the time Ted showed up at my office to take me home. ‘How could you lie to me?’ I asked him. ‘I am going to start school for sure this summer,’ he said, ‘but I still have two years of undergraduate work left. I can understand if you can’t live with it.’

His calmness made me feel like a raving maniac. He’d lied to me, but hadn’t I lied to him the night we met in the tavern and I told him about making heart valves? But this lie about law school had gone on for six months. I had told everyone I now about my law student boyfriend. Maybe I had made such a big deal out of it that it was impossible for Ted to tell me the truth. I could understand his wanting to be something he wasn’t. I had those feelings, too. Maybe I made him feel that he wasn’t good enough as he was. There was no doubt in my mind that he would be a successful lawyer someday; it would just take a little longer than I’d counted on. I wasn’t about to give him up over this.’

A more up-to-date snapshot of Molly Kendall, Liz’s daughter.