Chương 7
Emma’s face changed.
Children knew tone better than adults gave them credit for.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Maybe.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Until Monday night.”
Emma looked down.
Daniel waited.
The easy thing would have been to tell her he would stay.
He nearly did.
Rachel had once accused him of making promises to Emma because he could not bear watching disappointment happen in real time.
She had been right.
“You said breakfast.”
“I did.”
“You said chocolate chips.”
“I know.”
“You said no flying this weekend.”
Daniel swallowed.
“I said I probably wouldn’t be flying.”
“That means yes when you say it.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Emma.”
She turned her face away from the screen.
He could see only one cheek and the edge of her ponytail.
“I’m sorry.”
She did not answer.
“This trip could turn into a job.”
Still nothing.
“A good job.”
“You have a job.”
“I do.”
“So keep that one.”
Daniel looked toward the maintenance bay.
Ray walked past carrying a removed hydraulic fitting in a plastic evidence bag for documentation.
“I don’t like being gone either.”
“Then don’t go.”
There it was.
Simple.
Impossible.
Exactly eight years old.
He pressed his thumb against the edge of the phone.
“I need to make some decisions that help us later.”
“I hate later.”
Daniel almost smiled.
“Yeah.”
“I want pancakes tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“You always say that.”
That hurt because Rachel used to say it too.
Not angrily.
Usually while washing dishes.
You always say you know, Danny.
Sometimes knowing isn’t the same as doing something.
He looked down at the scratched desk.
“I can’t fix tomorrow morning.”
Emma’s eyes came back to the screen.
“But I can make Tuesday morning ours.”
“That’s school.”
“I’ll wake up early.”
“You hate waking up early.”
“I’m a pilot.”
“You complain every time.”
“That is different.”
“How?”
“It’s professional complaining.”
A reluctant smile touched her mouth.
Daniel saw it and resisted the urge to push.
“So you’re going?”
“Yes.”
Her smile vanished again.
“Okay.”
It was not forgiveness.
He knew better than to demand that.
“I love you.”
“Love you too.”
She ended the call before he could say anything else.
Daniel sat alone for a moment.
Then he called Olivia.
“I’ll come.”
By 7:15, Olivia was at the charter terminal with Margaret and two pieces of luggage she had packed herself because she disliked employees touching her clothes.
Daniel arrived twelve minutes later carrying his flight bag and wearing the same boots from the interview.
“You’re late,” Olivia said.
“I’m early.”
“You’re later than me.”
“That is not the definition of late.”
Margaret looked between them.
“I already regret this.”
Captain Nora Bennett met them at the aircraft door.
She was in her early fifties, silver beginning at her temples, with the relaxed posture of someone who had spent enough years around wealthy passengers to stop being impressed by urgency.
“Ms. Whitmore.”
“Nora.”
Olivia noticed Daniel noticing that they had already spoken.
Nora gestured toward the cabin.
“We have the transfer chair ready.”
“I can use my own board.”
“Fine by me.”
No hesitation.
No pity.
No overcareful tone.
Olivia looked at Daniel.
He said nothing.
That irritated her slightly because some part of her had wanted acknowledgment that he had been right.
The transfer took less than five minutes.
Daniel stood outside the cabin until Margaret told him Olivia was settled.
He did not hover.
That helped too.
When he finally boarded, he took the seat across the aisle rather than beside her.
“You can stop supervising me,” Olivia said.
“I’m not.”
“You’ve looked at the cabin door six times.”
“I like doors.”
“That must make houses thrilling.”
Daniel turned toward the window.
“You get sarcastic when you’re nervous.”
Olivia went still.
“I’m not nervous.”
“Then you get sarcastic for free.”
Margaret made a choking sound behind them.
Olivia looked back.
“Something wrong?”
Margaret covered her mouth.
“Water.”
“You don’t have water.”
“That explains it.”
Nora closed the cockpit door.
The engines rose.
Olivia felt the vibration through the seat before she heard the change in pitch.
For the first time that evening, she stopped thinking about Richard, Nevada, Seattle, and the board.
Her hands rested motionless in her lap.
Daniel noticed one thumb rubbing slowly against the side of the other.
He looked away before she caught him.
The aircraft began to taxi.
Olivia watched the lights of Chicago move beyond the window.
Then her phone buzzed.
A message from Evelyn.
Call me before you land.
Important.
A second message appeared before Olivia could answer.
Richard has contacted three more investors.
He is asking whether the board has a succession plan.
Olivia read it twice.
Across the aisle, Daniel buckled his belt as the aircraft turned toward the runway.
He saw her face change.
“Problem?”
Olivia locked the phone and placed it facedown.
“No.”
The engines surged.
The aircraft began its takeoff roll.
Daniel looked at her for a second longer, then turned toward the window.
Olivia kept her eyes forward while Chicago dropped away beneath them.
For the first time in three years, she could not decide whether the greater threat was being unable to get where she needed to go or discovering how many people were waiting for her to fail once she arrived.
At thirty-two thousand feet, Olivia waited until the seat-belt sign went dark before unlocking her phone.
Evelyn answered on the first ring.
“You’re in the air?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“That does not sound good.”
“I wanted you away from Chicago before I told you.”
Olivia looked across the aisle.
Daniel had taken out a tablet and was reading something from the charter operator’s flight package, though the way he held still suggested he was listening without trying to.
Margaret sat two rows back with headphones on and a spreadsheet open.
“What did Richard do?” Olivia asked.
“He spoke with Mercer Capital, Halloran, and two of the smaller institutional holders.”
“About succession.”
May you like
“About governance.”
“That is a prettier word for the same knife.”
