"Is that a bad thing?" she asked.
Imani shook her head.
"No. I just hope you know how pretty you are."
Naomi felt her expression soften.
She reached for her daughter.
Imani embraced her carefully, avoiding the gown's oversized satin folds.
For a moment, Naomi closed her eyes.
Those quiet moments with Imani mattered more than any public recognition she received.
Then her phone vibrated on the dressing table.
A message from Deputy Chief Adrian Brooks.
The revised patrol-review report is ready. We need to discuss one finding before Monday.
Naomi read it twice.
The warmth of the moment faded slightly.
She responded that she'd call after the fundraiser.
Then she placed the phone in her handbag.
Imani noticed.
"Work?"
Naomi smiled.
"Always."
Her daughter sighed dramatically.
"Even when you look like a queen?"
Naomi laughed.
"Especially then."
But as she left the bedroom, she couldn't stop thinking about the message.
Because the patrol-review report concerned a pattern she'd been investigating for months.
A pattern involving officers who escalated routine encounters after residents questioned their assumptions.
And one name appeared in the preliminary findings more often than Naomi liked.
Sergeant Elias Grant.
Naomi hadn't begun her career as a police chief.
Twenty-two years earlier, she'd entered the Eastbridge police academy as a twenty-year-old recruit who believed that professionalism, preparation, and personal integrity could transform the relationship between police and the communities they served.
Her father had been a school maintenance supervisor.
Her mother worked as an emergency-room nurse.
Neither had connections inside the department.
Naomi applied because she wanted a career that combined service, responsibility, and practical problem-solving.
She wasn't naΓ―ve about the dangers.
Growing up, she'd heard stories from relatives about unfair traffic stops, unnecessary searches, and encounters where people felt officers assumed the worst before asking questions.
She'd also watched police officers respond compassionately when her neighborhood needed them.
After a house fire displaced three families, local officers helped coordinate emergency shelter and kept the area secure while firefighters worked.
A community officer later helped Naomi's younger cousin find a youth leadership program.
Those experiences convinced her that policing could be honorable.
But only when the people entrusted with authority understood its limits.
At the academy, Naomi excelled academically.
She wasn't the physically strongest recruit.
She wasn't the loudest.
And she didn't enjoy the competitive posturing that occasionally filled the training environment.
But she listened carefully.
Asked questions.
And demonstrated an unusual ability to remain composed during stressful exercises.
One instructor told her she had a gift for slowing down her decisions when everyone else was speeding up.
Naomi considered that a compliment.
She would later discover how valuable it was.