“Andrea,” he breathed, his voice cracking. “A Captain? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“You didn’t ask, Dad,” I said gently, slipping the credentials back into my pocket. “You asked if I was still doing my ‘boat tours.’ And Gladys told everyone I quit. I didn’t see the need to correct a narrative she was enjoying so much.”
I looked past him to the crowd. The two men from the coffee shop were staring at the floor. Miss Bev had a hand clamped over her mouth. The whispers had completely died, replaced by a suffocating, deeply embarrassed silence.
I turned back to the Commander. “Thank you for the delivery, Commander. Tell the Admiral I’ll brief him on the secure line at zero-eight-hundred.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He snapped another flawless salute, executed a perfect about-face, and marched back down the center aisle. The heavy wooden doors closed firmly behind him.
I looked down at the tray of drinks I had left on the table. I picked up a single glass of ice water and held it out to Gladys. Her flawless, manicured facade was entirely shattered. She looked small, petty, and utterly defeated.
“You look a little parched, Gladys,” I said, my voice completely devoid of malice, which I knew would hurt her more than anger ever could. “Should I go back to serving, or would you like to take your seat so we can honor the veterans?”
