"Sit down, Mama, before they make me sit you down."
She laughed and swatted his arm. "Don't rush an old woman who's finally being treated like royalty."
A flight attendant approached with a smile. "Director Sloan. Mrs. Sloan. Welcome aboard. If you need anything, just ask me."
Miles turned toward the voice and stopped. Molly Fenwick stood in the aisle wearing her Crestline uniform, her hair pinned back just as it had been on the difficult flight. There was a new confidence in the way she carried herself, not the brittle certainty Trent had displayed but the calm of someone who had learned she could question an order and remain a professional. She looked as surprised to see Miles as he was to see her.
"Molly," he said.
"Mr. Sloan. It's good to see you." She glanced at Lillian. "I heard you were traveling with your mother today, but I didn't know I'd be working this flight until the schedule changed yesterday."
Lillian's eyes widened. "Oh, you're the Molly." She held out both arms before the younger woman could respond. "Come here, baby. Come here."
Molly stepped into the embrace, laughing through sudden tears. "Yes, Mrs. Sloan. I'm the Molly."
"I've wanted to thank you," Lillian said when she released her. "Not just for what you did for him. For being decent when other people forgot what decent looked like."
"I didn't do enough, ma'am."
"You did something," Lillian answered. "And then you told the truth. My daddy used to say it took courage to stop a train, but it took just as much to admit you were traveling in the wrong direction."
Molly lowered her eyes, visibly moved by the comparison. Miles thought about the first time he had seen her, standing beneath the defective overhead bin while Trent dismissed the concern. She had been right about the latch and right to question the description, and she had nearly lost her livelihood because the people above her did not want to hear it. Now she was helping train a new generation of attendants to be more attentive than they had been.
"I'm glad you're still flying," Miles told her.
"I am, too," she said. "And this time, I'm allowed to ask questions without being told I'm causing trouble. It's a nice change."
She helped Lillian settle into the wide seat, showed her the controls, and made sure the overhead compartment closed securely. Miles noticed the care with which she checked the latch and felt an unexpected smile cross his face. It was a small action in a cabin filled with hundreds of small actions, none of them impressive enough to make the evening news. Their importance lay in the fact that people kept doing them even when nothing went wrong.