“Nathan, honey,” his mother called as she approached him at the bar. He had already finished half the bottle, and was bound and determined to finish the rest in short order.

“Hello Mother,” he greeted, trying to sound sincere.

“I knew you’d show up,” she declared, kissing his cheek. “I hope you didn’t miss your father’s speech?”

“No such luck,” he mumbled, picking up the bottle.

“Oh put that bottle away, Nathan,” she scolded. “You know how your father feels about that stuff.” She grabbed a candy from the bar and handed it to him. “Here, sweetie. Have a mint.”

She stepped back and looked at him in his dress uniform. “Oh Nathan, I have to admit you do look handsome in that uniform. But did you have to wear it tonight of all nights? You know how your father feels about the fleet.”

“Founders Day is a patriotic holiday, mother. And as you can see,” he defended as he gestured toward the crowd, “I’m not the only one in uniform.”

“I know, dear. But you are the only member of the Scott family in uniform. Now come on, honey,” she added as she straightened his tie, “let’s go make nice for the cameras.”

Why are the women in this family always straightening my tie?

The journey through the mingling crowd was as painful as Nathan had remembered it to be from his father’s last campaign. A never ending stream of “yes ma’ams” and “yes sirs”, along with stories about sons they all seemed to have that were his age, or daughters they thought he should meet. Only this time, there was a new twist. It seemed that every old fart he greeted felt obligated to tell him a story about their days in the service. Of course, Nathan played it all off masterfully, just as his father had taught him. But it was all so pretentious and pointless. He really wished that he had gotten the chance to finish that bottle before his mother had found him. Instead, he would just have to distract himself as best he could with the image of that sexy little brunette as she slipped her dress back on.