“You too.”
Noelle turned toward Lorraine.
“Mama, this is Claire Bennett. She's one of our senior cabin attendants and now helps with crew training.”
Lorraine extended her hand.
“Lovely to meet you.”
Claire shook it.
“The pleasure is mine.”
For a moment, the attendant seemed nervous.
Then she looked toward Noelle.
“Captain Mercer is preparing the aircraft. Everything's on schedule.”
Noelle nodded.
“Good.”
Claire glanced toward Lorraine.
“We've prepared Seat 1A for you.”
The older woman's eyes widened.
“Oh, honey, you don't have to fuss over me.”
Claire smiled.
“It's no trouble.”
Lorraine looked toward Noelle.
“What's special about Seat 1A?”
For a moment, her daughter didn't answer.
Claire looked toward her.
Then smiled faintly.
Noelle took her mother's hand.
“I'll show you.”
The cabin looked almost exactly as Lorraine had imagined.
Soft lighting.
Polished dark-wood partitions.
Beautiful black leather seats.
And large oval windows overlooking the runway.
Lorraine paused at the entrance.
For several seconds, she simply stared.
Then whispered.
“Goodness.”
Noelle smiled.
“What do you think?”
Her mother shook her head.
“This is ridiculous.”
Claire laughed softly.
Lorraine continued.
“I spent twenty-two years serving people in places that looked almost this expensive, and I never understood why anyone needed so much room to sit down.”
Noelle laughed.
“Then you'll have plenty of room to complain about it.”
Her mother smiled.
They walked down the aisle.
Claire stopped beside the first enormous leather seat.
“Here we are.”
Lorraine looked toward it.
Then toward Noelle.
“That's mine?”
Noelle nodded.
“Seat 1A.”
For several seconds, Lorraine remained still.
Then she looked at the beautiful leather chair.
The polished table.
And the window beside it.
Her eyes filled.
Noelle noticed.
“Mama?”
Lorraine shook her head.
“I'm all right.”
But she wasn't entirely.
The sight had stirred memories she'd spent years keeping quietly beneath the surface.
First-class passengers who refused to acknowledge her.
People who spoke to her as though she were invisible.
The wealthy man who accused her of stealing his watch.
The supervisors who told her not to make a fuss.
And the long evenings she returned home exhausted, trying not to let her daughter see how much the day's insults hurt.
Lorraine stepped closer to the seat.
She ran one hand gently over the leather armrest.
Then whispered.
“Funny.”
Noelle frowned.
“What?”
Her mother looked toward her.
“I used to stand beside seats like this and wonder what it felt like to be the person everybody was trying to make comfortable.”