He carried the table across the grass and set it up three feet from the Navy display, right under the blue vinyl banner Lieutenant Wyler had strung between two light poles the afternoon before.

Valerie Thorne came out through the gym building’s glass double doors with a wooden clipboard, a silver ballpoint pen held between both thumbs.

Her thumbs pressed against the metal barrel of the pen as she watched Vance set up his wooden display.

“Morning, Master Chief,” Valerie said, stopping at the edge of the brick path.

“Morning, Valerie,” Vance said.

His deep growl carried across the quiet courtyard.

He laid his right hand flat on the wooden table and smoothed down the linen cloth he’d spread across it.