Fifteen Years After My Father Changed the Locks, He Seated Me at Table Twenty-Two

The paper crackled.

She drew out a single page and held it so the chandelier light caught the gold seal.

“For exceptional operational leadership and command distinction,” she read.

“Major General Evelyn Ulette, United States Air Force.”

A woman at the next table put down her fork.

“That’s Evie Ulette,” she said.

Gerald’s glass stopped halfway to his mouth.

The wine tilted, then righted.