Yup, I stepped right on her. She was about this age too. How a woman this old was left on the floor in the aisle of Vanderbilt’s theater, I do not know. She yelped, rose and walked off. A man with one hair hissed “Euuuuudooora!” I tell you, from the way this woman got off the floor, she had a core of steel, even at her age. Good haunch muscles as well. My imagination whispered “she got it climbing on the backs’ of mules,” but she probably had a DVD tape. I refuse to posit that Eudora had a trainer.
Here are decidedly two different cover takes on her most magnificent book: the collection of short stories 
Here’s one art director’s vision of the book, a magnificent one I might add.
Here is the world of another designer:
Both are great; both are true. The story Eudora read the day I stepped on her could have come from either of these cover models at the moment they turned from girl to woman. Angry at their husbands, they leave the house early, disappear unexpectedly. The husbands cry foul. Menfolk rally around him and they dredge the river for the wife. They find nothing in the river.
It isn’t until the husbands hit the front stoop that the treasure is brought up: The wife, returned home, admonishing her husband to never ignore her again, returns to his arms.
Sound like any other stories you know?
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Shadow Teams and Lisa Hagan Books 