“Yes,” she interrupted gently. “I do.”
I fell silent.
“I spent years telling you to ignore her because you were the calmer one. I thought I was helping keep peace in the family.”
She paused.
“But I was asking you to carry the responsibility for both of your behavior.”
My throat tightened.
“Aunt Pat…”
“Your mother did the same thing sometimes,” she continued. “I loved my sister dearly, but she was afraid of Delphine's temper. And you were so much easier to reason with.”
I looked toward the window.
For years, I'd wondered whether I was imagining the imbalance.
Whether I was being too sensitive.
Whether I should have tried harder.
Now, hearing someone else describe it so plainly, I felt an unexpected rush of grief.
Not satisfaction.
Grief.
For the girl I'd been.
For the family relationships I might have had.
For all the times I'd confused endurance with love.
Patricia cleared her throat.
“I don't know what happens next with the investigation, Marlo. But I want you to know something.”
“What?”
“You don't have to make this disappear.”
I pressed my hand against my eyes.
“Thank you.”
“And if Delphine wants a relationship with you, she needs to learn how to have one without hurting you.”
We spoke for another twenty minutes.
About Mom.
About Richmond.
About ordinary things.
Before we hung up, Patricia asked whether I'd come for Thanksgiving.
I told her I'd try, depending on duty.
She laughed softly.
“That sounds like the Marlo I know.”
For the first time in years, the thought of a family gathering didn't fill me with dread.
The investigation continued.
There were interviews, reports, and reviews.
I wasn't included in every discussion, nor should I have been.
I answered questions when asked and continued performing my duties.
Two weeks later, Captain Andrew Kellerman sent me a short note.
He was the officer whose retirement reception Delphine had been catering.
We had never met.
His message arrived through official correspondence.
Commander Marlo, I understand an incident occurred during the period of my retirement reception that disrupted your inspection. I wanted to express my appreciation for your professionalism and for ensuring the waterfront work continued safely. Best wishes in your assignment.
I smiled when I read it.
There was no mention of Delphine by name.
No invitation to discuss family conflict.
Just a professional acknowledgment.
It was also the first time I'd ever had any direct contact with the man Delphine had accused me of trying to impress.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
A month after the incident, my sister's employer completed its internal review.
Cynthia Bell called me only after the decision had been communicated to Delphine.
She didn't disclose private employment details.
She simply informed me that Delphine would no longer be assigned to work on the naval installation and that the company had addressed the access violation.
I thanked her.
Later that evening, Patricia called.
Delphine had lost her job.
I sat quietly while my aunt explained what she'd heard.
Apparently, the company had concluded that deliberately interfering with another person's work, disregarding access restrictions, and exposing the business to serious contractual risk were incompatible with her responsibilities.
I felt the weight of the news.
Delphine had spent years building her career in event catering.
She was good at it.
Despite everything between us, I knew that.
She could organize a complicated reception with dozens of moving parts, calm demanding clients, and turn a bare room into something beautiful.
Her work had been one of the few subjects we could sometimes discuss without fighting.
Now she'd lost it.
Because she'd seen me standing on a pier and decided my presence was an attack.
“Are you all right?” Patricia asked.
“I don't know.”
“You don't have to be happy about it.”
“I'm not.”
“And you don't have to fix it either.”
I looked at the photograph on my desk.
It showed Mom, Delphine, and me standing outside our childhood home on a summer afternoon.
I was fourteen.
Delphine was eighteen.
Mom had her arms around both of us.
Delphine was smiling brightly at the camera.
I was looking at her.
Even then.
Always looking to see whether she approved.
“I wish she'd just walked away,” I said.
Patricia's voice softened.
“I know, sweetheart.”
A formal update on the federal investigation came several weeks later.
Agent Rourke asked me to meet him at the security office.
He explained that the evidence had been reviewed by the appropriate authorities.
The case had not been dismissed as a private dispute.
The deliberate destruction or disposal of government property and the circumstances surrounding the sensitive materials had been referred for legal review.
Because the case involved a civilian, decisions concerning any federal criminal charges rested with the appropriate prosecutors, not with my command.
The final disposition would depend on the evidence, applicable law, and prosecutorial judgment.
I appreciated his careful explanation.
Then he said something that stayed with me.
“Commander, your sister has now provided a supplemental statement.”
I looked up.
“What did she say?”
“She acknowledged that she heard your warning before throwing the bag.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“She already admitted that.”
“Yes. But in her earlier account, she maintained that she believed you were exaggerating and that she didn't understand the possible consequences.”
“And now?”
He consulted his notes.
“She says she knew you were serious.”
I sat very still.
Rourke continued.
“She stated that she threw the bag because she wanted to embarrass you in front of your colleagues.”
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
The admission wasn't surprising.
I'd known what she'd intended from the expression on her face.
I'd seen that smile.
I'd watched her wait for me to fall apart.
But knowing something privately and hearing it acknowledged in an official investigation were two very different experiences.
“She said that?” I asked.
