The executive summaries presented to the board did not reflect the pattern. They reported consistent service scores and increased discipline around lounge access, as though turning away people quickly were an achievement by itself. Constance had asked Daniel to obtain the underlying customer comments, and what she read convinced her that the measures being celebrated might conceal the precise thing the company had once promised never to do.
She did not choose the Solstice Club at random. It was the busiest lounge in the airline's home hub and the flagship example in the latest performance presentation. If the culture had changed here, it had probably changed elsewhere. If the culture remained good here, she wanted to see the good people responsible for it and thank them herself.
Daniel had suggested announcing the visit. Constance refused. An announced tour would have produced polished uniforms, prepared refreshments, carefully selected staff members, and an itinerary designed to make every minute successful. She wanted to see what happened when nobody knew the chairwoman was coming. She also wanted to sit, for a little while, in the room Walter had loved, with nobody asking for photographs or speeches.
"But why the old coat?" Daniel had asked that morning.
Constance had been standing by the front door, checking whether her wallet contained the original brass-edged card. The blue coat hung loosely over her shoulders, its familiar weight settling around her like a memory. Walter had bought it from a church charity shop during a freezing winter when a luggage mix-up had left her without proper outerwear. It had cost eighteen dollars, and he had spent the rest of the day telling her that she looked like a woman who owned an airline.
"Because your grandfather liked it," she said. "And because a coat shouldn't change how anybody treats its owner."
Daniel had offered to have it professionally restored. She had refused that, too. Walter had sewn on the mismatched button with enormous concentration one Sunday afternoon while she read the newspaper aloud, and she was not interested in having a stranger remove his work in the name of good taste.
He was still thinking about that conversation when the board members began arriving at the executive conference center. Lydia Park came first, followed by finance director Graham Boyd and human resources committee chair Imani Price. Two other directors arrived from a briefing with flight operations, and the general counsel took a seat beside the video equipment. Each asked Daniel what had happened; each received the same answer.
"I want you to see it yourselves," he said. "And before anyone asks, Grandmother has not requested anyone's dismissal."
"Then why are we going?" Graham asked.
Daniel thought of the image in his mind: his grandmother, always composed, standing in an airport lounge with a cup of tea because someone had finally remembered how to be kind. He had no proof that anything more serious had occurred, but he felt certain there was a problem the slides had failed to capture.
"Because she asked," he answered. "And because her questions about this lounge have been better than our answers."