“But why are all the windows round?”
“Because corners are inherently weak, and air pressure increases that weakness. Round or oval windows spread out the stress and are fundamentally stronger if there’s a pressure drop.”
“Oh. So the likelihood of a fatal catastrophe is lessened?”
“Yes.”
There was a low cough behind him and Tom turned to see a flight attendant with a name tag that read G.B. “Love all the science, but maybe a little less fatal catastrophe chit-chat?”
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to make the other passengers uneasy.”
“Yeah, I don’t care about that. You’re making me uneasy.” But he smiled, a perfectly friendly grin that Hannah cautiously returned. G.B. was such a large man—a lifter, clearly, and quite tall—Tom briefly wondered if he had to turn sideways before going through doorways. “Let me guess—the MAGE conference?”
“What gave it away?” Tom deadpanned. MAGE, the Massachusetts Association for Gifted Education, was having their annual conference in Boston tomorrow. This was Hannah’s first year. Tom had had to make sustained efforts not to boast about that at work.
G.B. bent to speak to Hannah directly. “Y’know, our captain would be glad to let you come up and see the cockpit once we’re at the appropriate altitude.”
“We don’t want to interrupt her work.” Tom said this with some reluctance, as he would have liked a peek at the cockpit of an Airbus A319. And a private chat with the crew. They were bound to have interesting stories about death in the sky. And of course, it would be wonderful to speak with Ava again, this time wearing her captain hat. Literally.
He forced his mind back on track in time to hear Hannah. “Because distractions increase the potential of a fatal catas—of a thing you don’t want us to talk about,” she added anxiously.
G.B. smiled. “It really doesn’t. And she does it all the time. Let me know if you want to take a look later.”
“Really?” Hannah looked delighted. “Thank you, Flight Attendant G.B.”
“You’re welcome, passenger 22B. Why don’t you guys have a seat and get buckled in?”
“All right.” There was a decisive “snap” as Hannah complied, then got back to business. “Uncle Tom, why do we have to board the plane on the left? I don’t think that’s very efficient. And for the jumbo planes, why not board both sides at the same time?”
Nuts. He had tried to anticipate all Hannah’s questions and researched accordingly. Alas. But G.B., who had been moving past them, replied over his shoulder, “It keeps you bums out of the way of the ground crew. They always fuel on the right.”
“I like flying,” Hannah replied, wriggling in her seat a little. “It’s so interesting. And even if something looks inefficient, it isn’t.”
“Wait until we’re actually flying,” Tom said. Meanwhile, Abe had gotten himself buckled in and had handed Hannah a tablet with which she immediately busied herself. Tom leaned back and caught his eye over her bent head. “Thank you again for coming.”
“You kiddin’? Who’d miss it? It’s my first genius conference.”
Hannah made a noise that sounded suspiciously like “well, duh,” but kept her gaze on the screen.
“And I haven’t been back to Boston for years. I’m gonna show you all my old stomping grounds when the kiddo isn’t dazzling geniuses with her supergeniusness.”
Hannah stopped midswipe to look up at him. “Grandpa, a lot of people there are going to be smarter than I am. You should be resigned.”
“I’ll decide when to be resigned,” Abe retorted. “And yeah. In theory there will be bigger geniuses there. Maybe. But I won’t believe it until I see it.”
“Not very scientific,” she observed. “Besides, Uncle Tom has an ulterior motive. That’s what you should be wondering about.”
That got Tom’s attention, because his thoughts had begun to wander back to Ava, which was bad, and worse if Hannah had somehow picked up on that.
He’d been appalled to find her so ill the previous evening, which, coupled with her drug test and doctored moisturizer, was alarming. Once he’d talked her into letting him stay close, he’d contacted his supervisor and requested the next two weeks off. Because he rarely took time off (Hannah’s bout with chicken pox fourteen months ago had been the last time), he had loads of vacation and family leave time accumulated; his employer accommodated him with nary a murmur of protest.
But none of that mattered now, because Hannah’s comment demanded his full attention. “Did you say I have an ulterior motive?”
“Yes. MAGE isn’t the only reason we’re here.”
“You are always my top priority,” he replied, because it was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but. It had been that way since Hannah took her first breath.
“This is a working trip for you. Well, for me too, if my ‘job’ is to be a genius, but also for you.”
“MAGE is the priority,” he said again.
“Which doesn’t make my previous statement untrue.”
Abe had been leaning forward to catch his eye, then looked down at Hannah. “If you have a point, darlin’, make it.”
“Uncle Tom thinks Danielle Monahan’s killer might be targeting Captain Capp. He’s going to bodyguard her.”
“It is impossible—and inappropriate—for you to know that,” he said sharply.
“You probably shouldn’t have downloaded the Monahan file into your phone then.”
“Hannah—”
“Or your approved family leave request.”
“Hannah.”
She threw up her hands, flashing the Cone of Shame bandage across her palm.* Hannah’s two favorite movies were UP and the documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi. “I can’t be blamed if you make it so easy to guess your password.”
“My password this week is follicle,” he protested.
“See? Easy. You shaved your head earlier this week, you’ve been reminding me I’m overdue for a trim, and you’ve mentioned Ava’s curly hair twice. I can only assume you wanted me to hack your phone.”
His late sister’s teasing came back to him
(“Why has God punished me by making my kiddo exactly like you, big brother? Shouldn’t he have made your kid exactly like you?”
Dead four months eight days seven hours later.)
and he only just managed to avoid smiling. Instead, he thought of dead puppies. An unbreakable cell phone contract. Ava murdering Danielle Monahan. When he was sure he had affected an appropriately stern mien, he said, “You know perfectly well I would not want you looking at files pertaining to my work.”
“Also, you seemed tense when you came home and I wanted to find out why,” she added in a small voice.
“Oh.” He sat there, at a loss, until Abe cleared his throat.
“There were other ways to get to the bottom of that, Hannah. I know your intentions were good, but that doesn’t make it okay to snoop.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Definition of ‘snoop,’ please.”