Truman’s daughter, also named Margaret, was the sponsor of the event. At his word, she leaned far over the railing, raised the bottle of champagne in her hand, and, buoyed by the crowd, smashed it against the bow of the ship. Immediately, bubbles poured down its seam and the flags attached to its top flapped as if giving their approval. Glass shattered into the water like confetti. At that signal, the Missouri floated away from the dock with surprising speed, as if propelled by magic instead of the meticulous engineering. In just seconds, she had already cleared the confines of the Brooklyn Navy Yard and made her way into the East River, leaving whitecapped waves in her wake.

*  *  *

“It was simply the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen,” Margaret waxed to her parents at dinnertime. “Gosh, I wish you had both been there.”

Her father shrugged in the humble way she’d always loved. Her mother had a summer cold and he hadn’t wanted to leave her side in case she needed anything. While she laid down and listened to Guiding Light, he made a dinner of his own creation. A tough piece of pork cutlet and some undercooked green beans. But the love he put into them made them delicious. And besides, the food was far less important than the company.

“It’s enough that you were there and can tell us all about it,” her mother added. Her face looked tired, but her eyes glistened. “We’re so proud of you.”

Her words meant a great deal to Margaret, though they also inadvertently placed some anxiety in her heart. Without John, the burden of honoring her parents, of taking care of them, and of helping at the cobbler shop fell entirely on her shoulders.

And her father was noticeably slowing down. He didn’t want to give up the business, but the pace of the city was wearing on him and he would need her help if he was going to keep it up.

How would she even do that? Would she have to give up her job at the Navy Yard? She had no particular love for the engraving section, but she liked being a part of something that mattered as much as it did.

She’d hoped that working in the Navy Yard would help her decide what she wanted her future to look like. Gladys’s ambitions had opened her eyes to possibilities for women that she’d never dreamed about. And yet—when she held little Joanna in her arms, a love bloomed that lay deeper than anything she could have expected, inspiring a desire for one of her own one day.

Could a woman not find a way to have both?