Across thirty yards of floral carpet, table one was completely empty except for my father.

Margaret had retreated toward the ladies’ coat room ten minutes earlier, leaving her silk wrap draped over the back of an empty chair.

My father did not pick up the cashier’s check by his saucer.

He held his wine glass by the stem, motionless, watching the cluster of townspeople standing in a half circle around my chair.

When his eyes finally met mine across the room, I did not turn away or twist my silver class ring.

I met his gaze directly and gave him one brief, clean nod, the exact measure of courtesy I gave senior officers at the end of a change of command.