I set the navy briefing case on the folding chair beside me, unlocked the brass latches with a distinct metallic click, and lifted the cover just enough to retrieve the official transfer folder.
“He isn’t saying anything because this wasn’t a choice, Claire,” I said, keeping my tone strictly professional, devoid of malice or triumph. “The unit wasn’t handed to me to spite him. It was reassigned because the Inspector General completed the audit on the regional logistics accounts yesterday at 1700.”
Claire looked from me to Andrew, waiting for him to deny it, to launch into the familiar explanations about my ambition or my bitterness.
Andrew looked at the ground. “Claire, we need to go to the office.”
“What audit?” my father asked, stepping forward, his voice gruff, the disappointment finally shifting away from me and landing on the reality standing before him. “Andrew, what is she talking about?”
Andrew didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
I closed the briefcase, the latches snapping shut with finality. I looked at my sister, whose hand was still resting on Andrew’s arm, the certainty she had held twenty minutes earlier completely gone.
“I didn’t come here to watch him, Claire,” I said quietly, lifting the case by its handle. “I came here to do my job.”
I turned and walked toward the headquarters building, leaving the silence of the parade field behind me.
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