"You can speak here," he said. "With Mr. Dune beside me. And I want what you say put in the report if it changes anything important."
Bria nodded. Without her service jacket she looked smaller, but Zire reminded himself that looking small was not the same as accepting responsibility. She had been confident when she used the rules governing his supervised travel against him. He would listen now, but he would not let the change in her expression erase what she had done.
"I looked at your passenger profile because I knew you were traveling alone," Bria began. "I thought a child would take the crackers and leave the rest to the airline. It was a terrible thing to think, and I'm not going to deny it."
"Why my meal?" Zire asked. "You had a promotional tray for Mrs. Pike. You could have used that one even if she didn't like it."
Bria stared at the charm in his hand. "There was another reason," she said. "I recognized the name on the silver band. Not just your last name. Your grandfather's full name."
The sounds of the cabin seemed to move away from Zire. Sela was speaking softly with another passenger farther back. Somewhere outside, a ground vehicle beeped while reversing near the wing. Zire heard both sounds, yet the words from Bria occupied all his attention.
"You knew Harlon Penn?" he asked.
"He supervised the catering station where I had my first airline job. Eleven years ago. I was young, and I thought being quick mattered more than being careful. Your grandfather tried to teach me otherwise."
Merrick leaned forward. "How do you know this is the same man?"
"Because I remember his employee number from the investigation that ended my job," Bria answered. "And I remembered the way he signed his training notes. He wrote H. Penn with the tail of the P going below the line. I saw that signature on the legacy record today."
Zire thought of the green note tucked into his notebook. Harlon's handwriting had once been as ordinary in his family as the sound of a kettle boiling. Hearing Bria describe it made him feel protective in a way he had not expected. She had no right to turn the details of his grandfather's life into another tool for controlling the conversation.
"What investigation?" he asked.
Bria rubbed her hands together. "A catering shipment came in late before an early departure. Some of the labels had been damaged by moisture. Instead of asking the kitchen to remake them, I matched meals to passengers from memory. I thought I knew the orders. I was wrong."
"Wrong how?"
"One meal containing dairy was given a label that said it was dairy-free. Your grandfather checked the ingredient record before the cart left the kitchen. He found the mismatch and stopped the delivery. No passenger ate it. But when he asked who had changed the labels, I told him it was a printing error."
Zire looked toward Nessa. She was listening from a nearby seat, one hand resting on the allergen card that had protected her during the delay. The thought of someone deliberately changing a label that another passenger needed for safety made his chest feel tight.