“It’s for a public presentation.”

“Understood, ma’am,” Simmons said.

“The kraft paper envelope will be sealed and sent before five o’clock.”

“Thank you, Simmons,” I said, and hung up.

I stood in the middle of the room and looked down at my open deployment trunk near the closet.

My navy linen dress hung on the wooden door frame, ironed and straight.

I reached into my purse, took out my silver rank insignia, and held it in the palm of my hand.

Fifteen years ago, my father had told the entire town I was a disgraceful runaway who had failed at everything I touched.