“There she is,” she said.

“Our little soldier girl.”

I let the remark sit right where she had put it.

The foyer smelled of lemon polish and fresh flowers, lilies arranged in the silver urn that had stood in that same spot since my grandmother’s day.

“The lawyers are in the dining room,” Victoria said.

She smiled, and her eyes went to my uniform and then away.

“We’re handling this like adults, sweetheart.