She moved out of the lane because blocking other passengers would not help anyone. From beside the windows she watched Gary smile at Preston Hale and wave him forward. "Good news, Mr. Hale. We found you a seat up front."
Preston's eyes brightened. "Two A? Beautiful. I don't do aisles if I can help it." Gary handed him the newly printed boarding pass and said it was a pleasure taking care of a valued customer.
Imani returned to the desk only after Preston had begun down the jet bridge. "I'd like to speak with your supervisor," she said. Gary lifted his chin. "I am the supervisor."
She nodded. "Then I'd like the written policy that allows you to remove a confirmed, fully paid passenger from her seat without her consent, so that another passenger can occupy it." He made a small impatient motion toward the remaining boarding lane. "The policy is I run this gate."
"That's not a policy," she said, without raising her voice. Gary's expression hardened. "I can put you in 31F, or I can rebook you on the six o'clock flight. Those are your choices."
Imani looked at the clock, then at the blue folder beneath her arm. She could miss the board vote and argue with a man who seemed determined to enjoy the argument, or she could board the aircraft and preserve the facts in a record that would outlast the morning. "I'll take 31F," she said. "Please write down that I asked for the policy basis and did not consent to the change."
Gary printed a new boarding pass and pushed it across the counter. "Ma'am, you might want to remember my name," he said with a thin smile. Carol's pen stopped moving.
Imani looked directly at the badge on his jacket. "I intend to, Mr. Whitlock." She took the pass, thanked Carol for trying to verify it, and walked toward the jet bridge while the scanner displayed the very same passenger name it had accepted without difficulty minutes earlier.
Behind her, Lily whispered, "That wasn't a system error." Gary heard her, and his head turned sharply. "Would you like to explain your job to me?" She looked down at her screen. Carol said nothing, but she memorized the time on the override log because the numbers, at least, would not change depending on who was asking. At the end of the jet bridge, a flight attendant in a navy uniform greeted Imani and glanced at the new seat number.
"Welcome aboard," Maya Lewis said. "Thirty-one F, straight back on your left." Imani thanked her and moved into the aircraft, passing the first-class cabin where Preston Hale was settling into the seat she had paid for. A glass of sparkling wine stood on his armrest, and he was already asking another attendant whether champagne service could begin before departure. He did not look up when Imani passed.