Margaret’s fingers went to her pearls.

Clare leaned toward the microphone.

“To Major General Evelyn Ulette, the woman my family spent fifteen years describing as a disappointment.”

A chair scraped near the dance floor.

I turned my silver class ring once around my finger.

The band had set down their instruments.

Howard, the venue manager, stood by the sound board with one hand flat on a dial.

Clare broke the public affairs seal on the envelope.