Chương 4
“At lower margins than projected.”
“For the first two quarters.”
“Assuming your projections hold.”
Olivia set her phone beside the folder.
“My projections have held within three percent for six consecutive years.”
“Before circumstances changed.”
The room went still in the subtle way rooms did when someone used a neutral word for her accident.
Olivia looked at him.
“What circumstances are affecting the Nevada projections?”
Richard adjusted his cuff.
“I’m speaking broadly.”
“No, you aren’t.”
Margaret, seated along the wall, stopped writing.
Richard glanced toward the other directors.
“Your travel limitations have already altered negotiations.”
“My travel limitations are being addressed.”
“With pilot number eleven?”
Nobody smiled.
Olivia did not either.
“How do you know how many candidates I interviewed?”
Richard’s expression remained composed.
“You mentioned difficulty staffing the position.”
“I did not mention a number.”
For the first time that afternoon, he looked irritated.
“A board member hears things.”
“From whom?”
“Olivia.”
“From whom?”
The general counsel shifted in his chair.
Richard leaned back.
“I’m not going to participate in one of your interrogations.”
“Then don’t volunteer information you cannot account for.”
“Enough.”
The word came from Evelyn Cho, the board chair, who had been silent for most of the meeting.
She looked from Richard to Olivia.
“We have twenty minutes left.”
Olivia’s phone buzzed again.
A second message from Daniel.
I also need your emergency assistance requirements in writing before accepting the flight.
Richard noticed her looking.
“Pilot eleven?”
Olivia turned the phone facedown.
“Continue.”
The meeting ended at five with no vote on Nevada and a request for revised projections that Olivia considered strategically useless but politically necessary.
Richard left first.
Evelyn remained behind.
Margaret collected coffee cups from the side table while pretending not to listen.
“You went after him too hard,” Evelyn said.
“He knew information he shouldn’t know.”
“That does not make him wrong about everything else.”
Olivia locked the wheels of her chair.
“If you have something to say about my travel, say it.”
Evelyn rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“I think you are exhausted.”
“I am working.”
“Those are not mutually exclusive.”
“I did not build this company so that the first significant physical limitation I encounter becomes an argument for removing me from it.”
“No one said remove.”
“Not yet.”
Evelyn’s face hardened.
“You think everyone who worries about you is plotting a coup.”
“Not everyone.”
“That sounds like progress.”
Margaret carried the empty cups toward the door.
Evelyn waited until she was gone.
“Richard has been speaking to investors.”
Olivia said nothing.
“He is concerned about continuity.”
“There it is.”
“He is not the only one.”
“Are you?”
Evelyn looked toward the window instead of answering.
That hurt more than Olivia expected.
Outside, the late afternoon had turned the hangar glass into a dark mirror.
Olivia could see herself in it, small against the conference table, navy jacket sharp at the shoulders, hands perfectly still.
“What does continuity mean?” she asked.
“It means the company needs to know what happens if you cannot maintain your current pace.”
“I can.”
“You almost collapsed in Singapore six months ago.”
“I had an infection.”
“You worked through it.”
“I was treated.”
“You signed documents from a hospital bed.”
“They needed signatures.”
Evelyn’s mouth tightened.
“That answer is exactly the problem.”
Olivia looked down at her phone.
Daniel’s message was still waiting.
Emergency assistance requirements.
The phrase irritated her because it was reasonable.
Reasonable demands were harder to reject.
“I have a flight Saturday,” she said.
“With a pilot who has not accepted the job.”
“He will.”
“You sound sure.”
“I’m not.”
Evelyn studied her.
“You like him.”
“I have known him less than an hour.”
“That has never prevented you from disliking someone.”
Olivia almost laughed.
Almost.
Evelyn gathered her papers.
“Be careful with Richard.”
“I’m always careful.”
“No.”
Evelyn placed the folder in her bag.
“You’re always prepared.”
She looked at Olivia for another second.
“Those are different things.”
After she left, Olivia remained alone until the automatic lights in the adjacent office switched off.
At 6:12, she finally replied to Daniel.
What specifically do you need?
His answer arrived in under a minute.
What you can do independently during an emergency evacuation, what assistance you need, any equipment required, relevant medications, and who has authority to make medical decisions if you cannot.
Olivia stared at the message.
The last question tightened something in her chest.
She typed, I make my own medical decisions.
Then deleted it.
He had asked if she could not.
Three years earlier, in a hospital room that smelled of disinfectant and burnt coffee, her mother had signed forms because Olivia could not hold a pen.
There were entire days from that week she knew only through other people’s memories.
She disliked owing anyone possession of pieces of her own life.
Margaret returned carrying Olivia’s coat.
“You’re still here.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m practicing optimism.”
Olivia handed her the phone.
Margaret read Daniel’s questions.
“He’s thorough.”
“He’s intrusive.”
“He’s a pilot.”
“Those qualities also overlap.”
Margaret gave the phone back.
Olivia began typing.
I can transfer with assistance but cannot evacuate independently from the aircraft without physical support.
I travel with a lightweight manual transfer device and necessary medication.
My mother currently holds medical power of attorney if I am incapacitated.
She stopped.
The words looked more vulnerable on the screen than they felt in her head.
Daniel was a stranger.
A stranger she was considering paying to keep her alive at altitude.
Margaret adjusted the collar of Olivia’s coat.
“You can tell him.”
“I know.”
“That’s why you’re annoyed.”
Olivia pressed send.
Daniel read her response at the dining table while Emma pushed a cracker through a puddle of soup she had declared too orange.
He replied with three words.
That works.
Thanks.
Emma looked up.
“Did you get the job?”
“Maybe.”
“What does maybe pay?”
“Nothing.”
“That seems bad.”
“It is.”
His phone buzzed.
Another message from Olivia.
May you like
Does Saturday work or not?
Daniel looked at the schedule again.
