"Girls, gather your things. These seats are needed. You'll be sitting in row twenty-six."
Sloan Mercer delivered the words with the smooth, polished voice she used for passengers who requested an extra blanket. She stood in the narrow aisle of first class with one hand resting on a leather headrest and the other holding two newly printed boarding passes.
Behind her, a well-dressed couple waited with the impatient stillness of people who expected inconveniences to disappear whenever they entered a room. Neither of them looked at the two little girls whose birthday badges were shining in the afternoon light.
Ruby Bell stared at the papers in Sloan's hand, then down at the passes she was holding herself. Her fingers had left small creases in the corners, but the numbers were still perfectly clear. "These are our seats," she said. "My daddy bought them for our birthday. Two A and two B. It says right here."
"Sweetheart, first class isn't a playground," Sloan replied. "You can watch a movie in the back, and I'll make sure you get a snack. Be good girls and don't make this difficult."
"We're not playing," Ruby said, and the expression in her dark eyes became remarkably serious for someone who had turned nine only hours earlier. "Our daddy is coming. He has seat two C. He's going to sit right beside us."
Richard Ashford laughed behind Sloan, a short, dry sound that suggested the child had told a joke without understanding it. "Then your daddy ought to have been here on time," he said. "We can't hold up an entire airplane because somebody's running late."
His wife, Celeste, glanced toward the empty seat across the aisle and adjusted the pearls at her throat. "Richard, please," she murmured, although her voice carried more embarrassment at the scene than concern for the children. Her pink silk dress had been selected for their anniversary trip and was entirely unsuited to the hurried discussion taking place between two rows of expensive leather seats. She settled her handbag more securely against her hip and waited for Sloan to finish.
Ruby's twin sister, Pearl, stood with both hands on the straps of her green backpack. She wore a blue dress with a white collar and tiny pearl earrings, each held in a gold setting shaped like a flower. Her eyes moved from Sloan's face to Richard's wrist, where a heavy gold watch rested beneath a crisp shirt cuff. Something about that watch made her forget, briefly, that she was frightened.
"Somebody is coming for us," Pearl said. "He promised."
"Well, I don't see anybody," Richard answered. "And there isn't any reason to argue with the flight attendant."
Sloan leaned closer, keeping her smile in place even as her voice hardened. "Exactly. No adult here, no argument. Pick up your bags now, or I'll call the gate and have somebody come escort you."
Ruby looked at her sister. Pearl's lower lip trembled, and Ruby recognized the signs because they had been looking at each other across breakfast tables and classroom desks for nine years. She swallowed the words she wanted to say. Then she nodded once, the small, unwilling nod of a child who understands that an adult has the power to make things worse.