“This letter was sent to me because I contacted the Air Force public affairs office several months ago.”
My father stood.
“Clare.”
She looked at him.
“Sit down, Dad.”
A murmur moved through the ballroom.
Gerald stared at her.
I had never heard Clare speak to him that way.
Neither had anyone else.
“Clare,” he repeated, lower this time.
“This is your wedding.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t turn it into something ugly.”
Her fingers tightened around the microphone.
“You already did.”
That landed harder than shouting would have.
David rose beside her.
He didn’t say anything.
He simply stood close enough that Clare could feel him there.
Gerald slowly sat.
Clare looked back at the letter.
“It says my sister has served for more than fifteen years with distinction in operational aviation, command, disaster-response coordination, and senior leadership.”
My throat tightened.
“Clare, that’s enough.”
She shook her head.
