Then she put down the phone.
For once, she didn't want to spend the entire flight reading corporate documents.
She wanted to look out the window.
Rest.
And think about the students she would meet later that afternoon.
The attendant approached.
"Ms. Washington, would you like something to drink before departure?"
Maya looked up.
"Water would be lovely."
The woman smiled.
"Of course."
She placed a clean glass on the armrest.
Then asked whether Maya had any meal preferences.
Maya smiled.
"I requested the vegetarian option."
The attendant checked her service information.
"Yes, ma'am. I have that noted."
For a moment, Maya felt a strange tightness in her throat.
Such a small thing.
A confirmed meal request.
A polite question.
An employee checking the relevant information rather than assuming the passenger was wrong.
She looked toward the attendant.
"Thank you for checking."
The young woman smiled.
"Of course. That's part of my job."
Then she continued down the aisle.
Maya watched her go.
For several seconds, she remained quiet.
Then she turned toward the window.
As the airplane prepared for departure, Maya remembered her father.
She could almost see Elijah Washington standing inside the small office where Meridian began.
The faded carpet.
The crowded desks.
The old photographs of airplanes on the wall.
And the flight attendant who once entered his office crying because a passenger had mistreated her.
Her father hadn't protected that employee by pretending she could never make a mistake.
He'd protected her by listening.
By establishing what happened.
And by making it clear that telling the truth shouldn't be treated as disloyalty.
Somewhere along the way, the company he'd built had begun forgetting that lesson.
Senior managers confused authority with correctness.
Employees learned to remain quiet when they feared retaliation.
And passengers discovered that their dignity could depend on whether a particular worker believed they looked important enough to deserve respectful service.
Maya had spent years trying to correct those failures through reports and board discussions.
Then one morning, sitting in a gold gown, she experienced them personally.
The humiliation was real.
But it was also revealing.
She had the influence to demand an investigation.
Most passengers didn't.
And that knowledge carried a responsibility far greater than the desire to punish one flight attendant.
Maya didn't want a company where employees treated powerful people kindly because they feared losing their jobs.
She wanted a company where kindness, professionalism, and accountability were part of ordinary work.
Where a cabin attendant could admit a mistake.
Where a passenger could raise a concern.
And where a young employee could contradict a supervisor without believing their career was over.
She knew Meridian would never be perfect.