“A woman’s place is in the home,” the saying went. Unless, of course, your husband wasn’t a good breadwinner and you had to work to make ends meet—or unless you had the misfortune to not even have a husband. If you were single after the age of twenty, you were on the verge of being considered an old maid, so you were expected to be husband-hunting double-time. If you weren’t married by thirty, you were pretty much relegated to spinsterhood. This was the world Corky had grown up in. And the world you grow up in always feels like the way it has always been and will always be. Until it isn’t.
