Chapter 4 - A Uniform at the Door
On the evening of the banquet, Claire arrived at Vivian’s house so they could travel together.
Vivian opened the door and looked her daughter up and down.
Claire wore her formal black uniform. Rows of ribbons and medals rested above her left pocket. Silver insignia marked her rank.
Instead of pride, Vivian’s expression showed irritation.
“You could have worn a dress.”
“It is a military banquet,” Claire replied.
“Natalie is wearing a dress.”
Claire glanced past her mother.
Natalie stood near the staircase in a shimmering navy gown. She smiled when she saw Claire, but the smile held no warmth.
“That is quite a collection,” Natalie said, looking at the medals. “Did they give you one for every year you avoided Thanksgiving?”
Claire remained calm.
“They represent assignments.”
“What assignments?”
“Most are not dinner conversation.”
Natalie exchanged an amused look with Vivian.
Vivian adjusted her pearl necklace.
“That mysterious act may impress strangers, but we are your family.”
Claire nearly laughed at the word family.
Family should have meant safety. In the Hart household, it had meant competition, judgment and silence.
Claire’s father, Major Thomas Hart, had once understood her. Before his death, he had encouraged her military career.
“You do not need to be the loudest person in the room,” he had told her. “You only need to be the one people can trust when the room becomes dangerous.”
After he died, Vivian removed most of his photographs from the house.
She kept the ones that showed him at ceremonies but stored away the pictures of him teaching Claire to read maps or repair an old radio.
Natalie picked up her handbag.
“Are we ready?”
Vivian nodded, then looked at Claire.
“Please try to be pleasant tonight. Do not stand in corners and make people uncomfortable.”
Claire said nothing.
May you like
She had walked into rooms where every window could hide a threat.
Yet entering the banquet beside her mother felt strangely harder.
