He saw Daniel behind the tray cart and froze.
Then he laughed.
“Of course.”
Daniel pointed toward the return station. “You know the procedure.”
Logan carried his own tray over when he finished.
One of the junior officers accidentally knocked a fork and napkin to the floor. He bent down to pick them up.
Logan bent down too.
No one noticed except Daniel.
That was the final twist the old master chief had not expected.
The day that exposed Logan had begun because he believed cleaning was proof of low status. Two years later, nobody at his table treated cleaning as status at all.
Before leaving, Logan placed a folded cloth beside Daniel’s elbow.
It was new, clean, and the same plain white type Daniel had offered him the first day.
“For the table,” Logan said.
Daniel examined it.
“Not my boots?”
Logan shook his head. “I clean those myself now.”
Daniel laughed.
Outside, rain had started over the Carolina pines. Inside, trays clattered, people argued about schedules, and the lunch line moved forward.
Daniel wiped one small streak from the table, folded the cloth, and left it where the next person could reach it.
Then he went home to his garden.
