As his fingers released the polished wooden staff, the transfer was complete. The authority passed. The title shifted.
The official ceremony concluded with the traditional honors, but the atmosphere remained charged. As the formation was dismissed, the crowd began to stir, a low murmur rising from the seats as officers and guests processed what had just occurred.
I turned back toward the seating area. My mother was standing, her handbag clutched tightly against her coat, her eyes wide as she looked between me and Andrew. My father stood beside her, his shoulders set, looking down at the grass as if trying to reassemble the last six years of family history in his mind.
Claire was already moving toward me, her heels sinking into the dry turf, her face flushed with a mixture of confusion and fury.
“What did you do?” she demanded, stopping a few feet away, her voice tight and trembling. “What is this, Emily? Did you apply for his position just to humiliate him? Is this what this was about?”
Andrew approached behind her, stepping in before she could say more. “Claire, stop,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual authority.
“No, Andrew!” she snapped, turning to him. “She came here with that case, sitting there while I—” She stopped, looking at his pale face, finally noticing the absolute defeat in his posture. “Andrew? Why aren’t you saying anything?”…
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