“Arthur, stand on his left,” Eleanor said, her voice bright with energy.

“We want this shot to look perfect for his company newsletter.”

I started to push my chair back from the table to join them.

Eleanor put her right hand flat on my shoulder and held me down in my chair.

“Sarah, dear, step out of the picture for a moment,” Eleanor said.

The waiter adjusted his lens and paused, looking from my uniform medals to my mother’s face.

“Ma’am?” the waiter asked.