Michael and Devon were standing with Paul. Doris was off circulating through the guests. Devon had brought Melissa, who had immediately been whisked off by Greg to join the rest of the Halloway Horde. From his vantage point, Michael could see her, looking happier than she had in a while.
"She'll be fine," said Paul.
"Greg already explained the standard rules to me. And it's nice to see her relaxed and smiling. Though I'd be happier if she were in a wheelchair."
"As would I, dear boy," said Devon. "However, she was quite insistent. Something about not wanting to attract attention away from the event itself."
Michael shrugged, "Oh, well. It'll probably mean she gets tired sooner, and I get to leave earlier."
The three men were formally dressed but only Paul and Devon looked comfortable in their tuxes. Michael, as usual, did not. Devon frowned briefly.
"Melissa mentioned you were in the military, Michael. May I ask what branch?"
"Army. Special Forces."
"I was in the Marines. Those days are long past, of course. Almost another life."
"Same here."
Devon stirred but said nothing. He had never thought about how Michael's military service belonged to another man, a man with a different name and a different face. Something else Michael had lost in the Nevada desert.
"As a suggestion, one military man to another, think of that tux like your dress blues and this event like being on the parade grounds."
Michael considered what Paul had said, and then his posture changed. It was a subtle change, more attitude than anything else. But for the first time, Devon though Michael actually looked distinguished in his tux.
Paul nodded his approval. "I'll give you the name of my tailor. Tell him you want your suits with a military cut, like mine. He'll know what to do."
"Thank you."
Doris came over to the three men. She smiled at them, and then joined Paul, who put his arm around her. Doris, Paul, and Devon began talking about the event, and how it compared to previous years. Michael excused himself. He grabbed a plate from the buffet table, being careful to not make Melissa feel like he was hovering. He trusted Greg to keep an eye on her. Then he wandered off, to see how things were going.
Eventually, he ended up in the auction room. The auction wasn't due to start for another hour. But the items were on display, under the watchful eyes of several security guards. Michael hoped the foiled heist would generate some excitement and raise extra money for the charity.
"Excuse me, Michael, sir?"
Michael looked over at Greg. "Invoking Rule Number Three?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can you get her to the front door?"
"Yes. It may take us a little bit, though."
"I'll meet you there in ten minutes."
"Make it fifteen. Mel's moving a bit slowly," said Greg, who went to get Melissa. Michael let Devon know it was time for Melissa to leave. He then got Kitt from the parking lot. They pulled up in front just as Greg and Melissa were coming through the doors. Michael could see she was tired and in pain.
He opened the roof and went over to the kids. Without a word, he scooped Melissa up and carried her to the car. She put her head on his shoulder and said nothing, which indicated how poorly she was feeling. Greg followed behind, carrying her crutch.
"That can go in back with you," said Michael as he gently deposited Melissa in the front passenger seat.
"Um, what?"
"I had your mom pack you an overnight bag. It's in the trunk. Unless you'd rather stay here."
Greg quickly hopped in the back. "Nope, I'm good with this plan."
"Thought you would be," said Michael with a grin.