“It must be so unsettling having military people in the main house,” Mrs.

Gable said, holding her silver teaspoon over a china cup.

Victoria leaned across the mahogany table, her practiced honeyed tone perfectly smooth as she poured orange juice from a heavy crystal pitcher.

“Avery is taking a short rest to clean out her high school closet,” Victoria said.

“She’s much more comfortable blowing things up overseas than managing real estate.”

Brandon let out an overly loud laugh from the head of the table, then cleared his throat as he buttered a dry scone.

“Logistics in the desert is mostly just moving wooden crates around,” Brandon said, wiping a crumb off his chin with a linen napkin.