James was supposed to fly with her. He had purchased two tickets and promised that this time they would visit the lake where Evelyn taught Monica to swim. But an inspection meeting on post had been extended, and at breakfast he had told Taylor he would take the first available flight after finishing. "I'll be there tomorrow," he said, trying to sound lighter than he felt. "Grandma has waited seventy-seven years to turn seventy-seven. She can wait a few more hours for me." Taylor had rolled her eyes, kissed his cheek, and promised to text when she landed. She never saw his expression after she walked through security: a father's familiar mixture of pride and discomfort at sending a child into the world alone.
By early afternoon the inspection meeting ended unexpectedly. A colleague arranged for James to travel directly to the airport, and his aide located a last-minute seat on Taylor's flight. The only available place was in the forward business cabin, several rows ahead of the economy section, and he boarded before the final group. James considered sending a message to tell Taylor he was there, but his phone was nearly dead and the cabin crew asked everyone to secure their devices for departure. He decided that surprising her at baggage claim might be a small, harmless pleasure after a difficult week. The decision would haunt him later, though he had no reason then to imagine why.
Taylor boarded with group seven, guided by a gate agent who barely looked at her pass. She noticed polished shoes protruding from the larger seats up front and the sharp smell of coffee from the forward galley. Beyond the premium section, narrow gray seats stretched toward the rear of the aircraft. Seat 23C was an aisle seat on the left, immediately behind the last row of the extra-legroom section. Taylor was glad she could stand without climbing over someone, though she wished for a window view. She stowed her bag, placed the paperback in the seat pocket, and texted her grandmother that boarding had started.
Directly in front of Taylor, in premium seat 22C, Diane Harrison was on a call she did not bother to lower. She was discussing a sales account, announcing figures loudly enough for several people to hear. "They know I can move that contract somewhere else," she said. "That's what loyalty means. People accommodate the customers who matter." Her suitcase carried a Diamond Elite tag from National Airways, along with colored priority stickers from other trips. She had spent the morning arguing at the airport lounge about a delayed cappuccino and had won an apology, a fresh drink, and a voucher she did not need.