July 1, 1956 was the 40th wedding anniversary of Dwight and Mamie Eisenhower. It is also the date in the opening of Constance Alexander’s novel, Thirty-One Fat Ladies on a Bus.

July 1, 1956. A day for sun dresses, bare legs, iced tea under the lacy shade of a backyard tree. But Margaret Anderson wears a beige rayon suit trimmed in creamy grosgrain. Nylons and white gloves. A matching hat with a stiff little feather that points to heaven.

She flinches slightly when the conductor takes her left elbow and guides her down the steps to the train station platform. A single bead of perspiration, like an unshed tear, lingers at her temple. In the harsh noon sun, the silver hairs that are threaded into her auburn chignon are more pronounced than they were a month ago.

When the porter deposits the blue hatbox and matching suitcase at her feet, Margaret spends her last smile.

"A quarter each," she insists, slipping the coins into the pocket of his blue shirt.

"No need for that, ma’am." Armpits ringed with sweat, he waves aside the hand that holds the change purse.

"I insist."

He shrugs. "You sure now?"

She nods.

He grins and pats his breast. "Thank you, ma’am."

"Thank you," she replies, but he cannot hear her. She is whispering through clenched teeth.