Warm wood.
Soft lighting.
Fresh flowers.
The Little Girl immediately found the refrigerator.
“Two yogurts!”
The pilot had not lied.
She climbed onto the sofa and pressed her face toward the window.
The Billionaire Mother sat opposite.
For the first time since entering the terminal, she allowed herself to feel.
Anger.
Deep.
Controlled only because her daughter had needed control more.
Her phone vibrated.
Operations Director.
She ignored it.
Another vibration.
General counsel.
Ignored.
Her executive assistant.
Ignored.
She switched the device to airplane mode before the aircraft even moved.
The Little Girl looked over.
“Are you not working?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
The child narrowed her eyes.
“You always say that.”
The mother laughed.
“Today I mean it.”
The Little Girl smiled.
“Good.”
The aircraft began taxiing.
Terminal moved past the windows.
The mother saw the staff gathered near the counter.
Operations.
Security.
Management.
The attendant still there.
Then the building disappeared behind the wing.
The mother exhaled.
Hawaii.
That was the plan.
Not disciplinary meetings.
Not public humiliation.
Not corporate damage control.
Ocean.
Her daughter.
Seven days.
She would protect that.
The aircraft climbed.
California shrank.
The Little Girl pressed both hands to the window.
“We’re above the clouds!”
“Yes.”
“Can bad people see us?”
The question surprised her.
“What?”
The child looked toward her.
“The lady.”
“She wasn’t a bad person.”
The girl frowned.
“She did a bad thing.”
“Yes.”
“More than one.”
The mother smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
“Does that make her bad?”
The mother thought.
This mattered more than she wanted it to.
“I don’t know.”
The Little Girl looked confused.
“You know everything.”
“No.”
“You act like you do.”
Fair.
The mother continued:
“I think people can do very bad things without us knowing everything about who they are.”
“What if she does it again?”
“That matters.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
“That matters too.”
The child thought for several seconds.
Then opened the yogurt.
“I still don’t like her.”
“You don’t have to.”
That seemed to satisfy her.
Hours later, the Pacific spread beneath them.
The Little Girl fell asleep beneath a soft blanket.
Her mother finally turned her phone back on.