“What situation?”
“Must we turn everything into a performance?”
The executive looked down at her daughter.
“No.”
She looked back up.
“But you apparently intend to.”
The flight attendant said gently, “Ma’am, I need you to remain respectful toward other passengers.”
The wealthy woman turned.
“I have been flying this airline longer than you’ve been working.”
The attendant held her posture.
“That doesn’t change our conduct expectations.”
“Get your supervisor.”
“I am handling the issue.”
“No.”
The woman pointed toward the front.
“Get someone senior.”
The attendant’s jaw tightened.
“I’ll notify the purser.”
She walked away.
The mother watched her go.
A difficult job.
The wealthy woman looked pleased with herself.
Then she looked toward the baby again.
The child had begun rubbing one eye.
Sleep approaching.
Her mother shifted her gently.
The wealthy woman said:
“You could make this easier.”
“For you.”
“For everyone.”
The executive looked around the cabin.
“No one else appears to be complaining.”
“They're being polite.”
The man across the aisle finally spoke.
“Actually, she's quieter than you are.”
The wealthy woman turned.
The mother almost smiled.
The wealthy woman flushed.
“You mind your business.”
The man raised both hands.
“Gladly.”
She faced forward.
For perhaps ninety seconds, peace returned.
Then turbulence from taxiing lightly rocked the cabin.
The wealthy woman's glass shifted on the side table.
She picked it up.
The mother noticed only because the motion was abrupt.
The woman turned slightly.
Looked at the baby's dress.
Then at the mother.
There are moments in life when intention becomes visible before action.
This was one.
The executive saw it.
Too late to prevent.
The wealthy woman tipped the champagne flute.
Not completely.
Just enough.
A stream of pale sparkling wine poured across the edge of the baby's ivory princess skirt.
Some splashed the mother's forearm.
The baby startled.
Her lower lip trembled.
The cabin froze.
The wealthy woman pulled the glass upright.
“Oh.”
Nothing in her face suggested accident.
The mother looked down.
Her daughter's dress darkened where the liquid soaked into the tulle.
The baby's eyes filled.
The mother immediately lifted her higher.
“Shh.”
The child began crying.
Not loudly.
A frightened, confused cry.
The mother's entire face changed.
No screaming.
No panic.
Something colder.
She checked the baby's skin.
No injury.
Only liquid.
She took a cloth from the diaper bag and carefully blotted the dress.
The flight attendant hurried over.
“Oh my God.”
The wealthy woman said: