“I know.”
Walter looked down.
“He should never have needed stars.”
“No.”
“I don’t want anybody saying he picked the wrong old man.”
Evelyn’s thumb moved once across his knuckles.
“He picked the wrong way to handle an old man.”
Walter looked at her.
She shrugged.
“You taught three generations of soldiers. I taught middle school for thirty-six years. I know how to shorten a lesson.”
Walter smiled despite himself.
“There’s the woman I married.”
“The one with better editing.”
“That too.”
His phone rang.
Alicia.
Walter looked at the screen.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow.
“She has called four times.”
“She knows I’m alive.”
“She is your daughter.”
“She is also a lieutenant general with responsibilities larger than whether her father took ibuprofen.”
“Answer.”
Walter sighed and accepted the call.
“Yes?”
Alicia’s voice came immediately.
“Did you take the anti-inflammatory?”
Walter stared at Evelyn.
She smiled triumphantly.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Recently.”
“That means no.”
“It means after dinner.”
“You ate?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Walter looked toward the empty soup bowl on the nightstand.
“Food.”
“Dad.”
“Chicken soup.”
“Half a sandwich,” Evelyn called.
Walter looked betrayed.
Alicia heard.
“Mom, thank you.”
“Anytime.”
Walter put the phone on speaker because secrecy had clearly collapsed.
Alicia said, “Public affairs is receiving interview requests.”
“No.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“I told them no comment from you or from my office.”
Walter relaxed slightly.
“Thank you.”
“But the Pentagon ceremony is still scheduled tomorrow.”
Walter closed his eyes.
“No.”
“Dad.”
“I am eighty years old, bruised, famous for all the wrong reasons, and apparently America’s deadliest grandpa.”
Silence.
Then Alicia laughed so loudly Walter had to move the phone away.
“This is not funny.”
“It is a little.”
Evelyn laughed too.
Walter stared at both of them in disbelief.
Alicia recovered.
“The center has four hundred people arriving.”
“They can name it without me.”
“They could.”
“Good.”
“But they won’t.”
Walter frowned.
“Why?”
“Because almost two hundred of them came because you said you would be there.”
“I never said.”
“Mom said.”
Walter turned slowly toward Evelyn.
She inspected her nails.
“You told them?”
“You would have said no.”
“I am saying no now.”
“You’re going.”
Walter looked from wife to phone.
“This household has lost respect for chain of command.”
Alicia said, “You are retired.”
Evelyn added, “And at home I outrank everyone.”
“That has never been authorized.”
“Fifty-nine years of precedent.”
Walter sighed.
Alicia’s voice softened.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“Come tomorrow.”
He heard something underneath the general’s voice.
Not command.
Daughter.
He leaned back.
Alicia continued.
“Do not let what happened today decide what tomorrow means.”
Walter said nothing.
“The ceremony existed before Officer Hale.”