The brass desk clock on the counter ticked past nine forty-five while Brenda Kowalski flipped through her yellow clipboard.

The flight from Chicago had landed at Stewart Airport forty-five minutes ago, and my mother hadn’t called once from the arrivals curb.

“The superintendent’s party comes in through Gate Three at twelve thirty sharp,” Brenda said, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“I need your family headcount confirmed before eleven, Captain Mitchell.”

I straightened the brass buttons on my dress tunic and twisted my silver class ring around my thumb.

“My father is usually on time when he’s driving.”

“The parking vouchers cost fifty dollars each if they don’t register at the outer gatehouse,” Brenda said.

She laid two blue pass folders on the wooden table next to my cold bagel halves.

“Are Eleanor and Arthur coming in the same rental car?”

“My mother booked the eleven o’clock shuttle from the hotel in Fishkill,” I said.

Brenda checked her watch and tapped the heavy brass clip of her clipboard against her forearm.

“They have fifteen minutes before the outer perimeter gate closes to civilian visitors.”

“I’ll check the driveway,” I said.

The street outside the off-base townhouse was completely empty except for a delivery van parked under the spring maples.

I went back inside and picked up the blue folders from the counter.

“If they miss the preliminary security briefing, they lose their assigned seats in section four,” Brenda said, running a finger down her printed schedule.

“Those VIP bleachers are assigned strictly by class standing and graduation order.”

“I understand the academy protocol, Brenda,” I said.