And a stranger in a captain’s uniform had, in the space of one flight, handed her a different inheritance — proof, in gold, that her father had once been the kind of man the world stood up for, and could be again.

“Thank you, Captain,” I said, and shook his hand.

Chapter 20 — A Place at Our Table

“No, Sergeant,” he said, holding my grip a beat longer.

“Thank you.

My son — Malik — he teaches high school history now, over near Wilmington.