Richard's eyes traveled from Daniel's face to the seat number beside his knee. The champagne glass stood between him and the armrest, a decorative proof of the comfort he had demanded. For the first time since boarding, he seemed aware that the seat belonged to a person rather than to an abstract loyalty category.
"We didn't know," Celeste said. "Danny, we didn't know who they were."
Daniel held her gaze. "You didn't ask."
He turned back to Sloan. "I want you to tell me why you moved them. I also want the captain informed. But first I'm going to see my children."
Sloan tried to recover. She smiled too quickly, her eyes darting toward the other passengers. "Sir, surely we can resolve this calmly. We try to accommodate our most loyal customers whenever possible, and the girls seemed perfectly willing—"
"They told me they were ordered to move," Daniel said. "They told me an adult said no adult, no argument. Are you saying they made that up?"
"Of course not, but children sometimes misunderstand—" She stopped as her eyes passed over Daniel's fair skin, brown hair, and gray-blue eyes. It was obvious what question had been forming, and equally obvious that she had finally realized how offensive it would sound. "I just want to be sure you're authorized to—"
"Finish the thought," Daniel said quietly. "If there's a question about my identity, you have the documents in the envelope and the gate has my booking. Use those. Don't guess about who my daughters are from the way I look."
Sloan lowered her eyes. The room was silent enough that Daniel could hear the soft clink of a spoon against a glass. He did not remain to watch her struggle for an answer. He moved toward the curtain and walked down the main aisle with his bag over one shoulder, ignoring the curious faces turning toward him.
Every row seemed longer than the one before. At row ten he passed the woman in the gray sweater, who gave him a sympathetic look. At row fifteen a young passenger moved his legs to make room, and at row twenty Daniel heard what sounded like a child's laugh from the back. Then he saw a purple birthday badge beneath the overhead lights.
Ruby was looking up the aisle with such concentration that she spotted him before he reached row twenty-four. She made a sound between a gasp and a shout and grabbed Pearl's arm. "Daddy!"
Pearl twisted in her seat and saw him. Both girls unbuckled instinctively before Walter Finch could say a word. Daniel dropped to his knees between the rows and opened his arms, and they hurried the few steps toward him together. He caught them against his chest, one in yellow and one in blue, their backpacks forgotten on the seats behind them.
"You came!" Ruby said, burying her face against his shoulder. "You said you'd come and you did."
"You're sweaty," Pearl observed through tears, touching his cheek as though checking that he was real. "You smell like the airport train."