“You’re here to verify your guests.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

He turned his monitor so I could see the wide spreadsheet.

Row by row, four hundred graduating cadets were paired with their civilian family members.

I scanned down the alphabetical column to the letter M and found my entry.

Rachel Morgan was listed in seat A1, right in the center of the front row of honor.

“Your mother is cleared for the VIP reception,” the adjutant said.