Fun. Nora wondered if she remembered what that was. With the new edict, it seemed that she’d been spending all her time arranging and rearranging shifts, accommodating those girls who had families and couldn’t work overtime, those who were pregnant and needed their rest, and those very few who flat-out refused to stay late. When she removed them from the mix, that meant she had to overlap shifts and juggle personnel to ensure maximum production and minimum disruption. It’s like the most challenging game of chess I’ve ever played.

She closed her eyes. When was the last time she’d played a game of chess? She and her father used to love to sit down to a good game on a Sunday afternoon. Afterward, the loser would buy the winner an ice cream cone. Now on Sundays, she called home solely to share a perfunctory and politely neutral exchange with her parents, who seemed more like strangers to her every day.

“Sentimental Journey” came on the radio and Nora smiled. That song always lifted her spirits. Since the night of their anniversary, it had become their song. In her mind’s eye, she pictured them in the middle of the living room, sharing their anniversary dance. You’re getting mushy in your old age.

She spied Mary’s ring on the window sill where she left it every time she had to go to work. The magnets made it impossible to wear jewelry of any kind on the job, unless, of course, you wanted to spend your shift pinned to a giant magnet. The ring sparkled in the early April sunshine slashing through the window curtain. She’d chosen it as an enduring token of their relationship, and because she’d chosen it with such care, she knew that the ring would always remind both of them how deeply in love with each other they were.

She owed Mary an apology. Lately, she’d been irritable and inattentive. Mary didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t her fault they were like ships passing in the night. No, that’s your doing. It wasn’t as though she could give Mary preferential treatment and the best shifts so that they could spend more time together. As it was, she heard the backstabbing comments of girls who believed Nora favored Mary because they were roommates.

Since when are your thoughts so manic and scattered? You really do need some sleep.

“We interrupt this broadcast with a breaking news bulletin.”

Nora put down her pen and set aside the schedule.

“The White House has announced that today, April 12, 1945, at 3:35 p.m., President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, age sixty-three, passed away in Hot Springs, Georgia, where he had retreated to recover from exhaustion. The cause of death was a massive cerebral stroke.”

Oh, my God. The president is dead. Nora’s hands trembled. FDR was her hero.