I could not understand why Clare would send an invitation with no return address after fifteen years of complete silence.

“Do you want me to cross-reference the mailing code with base security?” Simmons asked.

“No,” I said.

“Leave the log as it is.”

“Will you be requesting leave for the weekend, ma’am?” Simmons asked.

“That depends on what I confirm before five o’clock,” I said.

He nodded once and set the logistics folder on the corner of my blotter.

“I’ll have the weekend duty roster on your desk by sixteen hundred.”

“Thank you, Captain,” I said.

He turned and closed the office door with a quiet click.

I opened the top drawer of my desk and reached for my navy clutch purse, unhooking the brass clasp to put the gold-bordered invitation inside beside my official Air Force service record.

At twelve o’clock I walked down the quiet corridor to the base communications desk.

High rectangular windows let in the bright afternoon sun, which reflected off the polished linoleum floor.

I picked up the heavy desk telephone and dialed the main line for the Greenfield Country Club.