For a moment, tears filled her eyes.
She hadn't returned to exactly the career she lost.
But she'd found a way to use her experience without allowing Gavin Royce to define the rest of her life.
And that felt like something worth celebrating.
Noelle didn't see Gavin again for nearly two years.
Their dispute continued through attorneys and formal proceedings where appropriate.
His attempt to force a favorable acquisition had failed.
His companies faced scrutiny over their relationships with the disputed supplier transactions.
And Ashford's private do-not-transport restriction remained in place, subject to the company's lawful procedures.
Noelle had no interest in arranging another confrontation.
She didn't want a second viral video.
Didn't want reporters asking whether she'd finally defeated him.
And didn't want the company's future reduced to a contest between two wealthy people.
She wanted aircraft that were properly maintained.
Employees who could speak up.
Customers who understood the rules.
And a business capable of paying its obligations without sacrificing its standards.
That was difficult enough.
Then, on the second anniversary of Flight 907, Lorraine Ashford retired from the advisory role she'd maintained with a community aviation education program.
She was sixty-eight.
Her hair was silver.
Her knees hurt after long days.
And she had finally decided she wanted to spend more time visiting family, reading novels, and taking the occasional trip without worrying about another schedule.
Noelle wanted to celebrate.
She suggested a dinner.
Lorraine declined.
A weekend at a resort.
Her mother said it sounded exhausting.
Then Noelle offered something else.
“A flight.”
Lorraine laughed.
“Baby, I spent half my life on airplanes.”
Noelle smiled.
“I know.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow.
“Then why would I want to celebrate retirement by boarding another one?”
Noelle considered the question.
Then answered.
“Because this time, nobody's going to ask you to serve the coffee.”
Lorraine became quiet.
For a moment, she studied her daughter.
Then smiled.
“All right.”
Noelle arranged a private family journey aboard one of Ashford's long-range aircraft, appropriately scheduled and operated through the company's normal procedures.
The trip would take them from New York to California, where Lorraine wanted to visit relatives and spend several days near the ocean.
The charter was assigned the familiar service number.
Flight 907.
Noelle smiled when she saw it.
For a moment, she remembered Gavin's black-and-gold jacket.
The bubblegum.
The shoes on the table.
And the shocked expression when Claire confirmed who owned the aircraft.