“I never stopped being an engineer.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Part-time adviser.”
“Do you have to leave?”
“No.”
“Travel?”
“Sometimes.”
“School pickup?”
“Protected.”
Mia nodded.
“Then why are you thinking so hard?”
Ethan looked at her.
“You’re nine.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
He smiled.
“Because saying yes to something new can change things you like about something old.”
Mia thought about it.
“Then keep the parts you like.”
Ethan stared.
“That is annoyingly simple.”
“You tell me simple is good.”
“I say simple is good after understanding complexity.”
“That sounds like adult cheating.”
The phone rang at seven.
Victoria.
Ethan answered.
“Hello?”
“Ethan.”
“Victoria.”
“I have a question.”
“Okay.”
“Would Mia like to see the helicopter?”
Ethan looked across the table.
Mia immediately knew the conversation involved her.
“What?”
He covered the phone.
“Would you like to see the helicopter?”
Mia’s eyes widened.
“The broken one?”
“The formerly broken one.”
“Yes.”
Ethan returned to the call.
“I think we can make that work.”
The following morning, Mia Cole stepped onto the Hartwell Aviation tarmac carrying her notebook in both hands.
She wore jeans, sneakers, a navy jacket, and the expression of somebody entering a laboratory rather than visiting her father’s workplace.
Victoria was waiting beside the helicopter.
She had deliberately left her executive entourage elsewhere.
No assistant.
No security detail standing beside her.
Only the aircraft.
“Good morning, Mia.”
Mia stopped.
“Good morning.”
Victoria did not bend down and use the exaggerated voice adults often used with children.
She spoke normally.
Mia noticed immediately.
Ethan noticed Mia noticing.
Small point in Victoria’s favor.
Victoria gestured toward the helicopter.
“Your father rescued my Tuesday.”
Ethan sighed.
“I repaired a connector issue.”
Mia looked at Victoria.
“He does that.”
Victoria smiled.
“I’m learning.”
They began at the outside.
Ethan explained nothing unless Mia asked.
She examined rotor components from the safe viewing area, asked why certain panels used different fasteners, wanted to know why the landing gear geometry looked different from an airplane’s, and wrote down the phrase redundant systems after Victoria used it.
Inside the cabin, Mia touched nothing without permission.
She stared at the leather seating.
“This is nicer than our living room.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
Victoria laughed.
“It cost more too.”
“That seems unnecessary.”
“Mia.”
“What? It does.”
Victoria looked at Ethan.
“She’s not wrong.”
They moved toward the cockpit.
The displays fascinated Mia for nearly ten minutes.
Then they returned outside and reached the access area involved in the failure.
The panel had been left open for a scheduled follow-up inspection.
Victoria pointed.
“That’s where it happened.”
Mia leaned forward without crossing the marked boundary.
“That little connector?”
“That little connector.”
“Everybody missed it?”
Victoria glanced at Ethan.
“Everybody.”
Mia looked at her father.
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Ethan thought about the answer.