My Father Told Me to Pretend We’d Never Met at the White House—Then General Vance Announced I Oversaw His Defense Contract Review

Maybe small was safer.

Maybe twenty-six years should not be repaired in one afternoon.

Maybe the healthiest thing we had done was stop demanding a finished ending from each other.

I slipped the final folder into my bag.

Then changed my mind.

Took it back out.

Tomorrow’s work could stay on tomorrow’s desk.

Daniel would approve.

Probably insist we document the decision.

I laughed quietly.

Turned off the computer.

Picked up the mug.

At the door, I looked back once.

Brass nameplate.

Desk lamp.

Ordinary folders.

Nothing about Mercer.

Nothing about Arthur.