She also wanted to see the airline one last time before potentially becoming responsible for its board.
Her daughter would travel with her because childcare arrangements changed unexpectedly.
She considered postponing.
Then rejected the thought.
If an airline claimed families were welcome, the future chairwoman should not need to hide motherhood to use it.
She bought the first-class ticket herself.
Full fare.
No upgrade.
No board benefit.
She did not know the outgoing chairman would be on the same flight until she saw him boarding.
Even then, she did not recognize him immediately.
She knew photographs.
People looked different in motion.
He certainly did not recognize her.
That had seemed almost funny.
Then the baby cried.
Then he poured the water.
The irony would dominate headlines.
But during the flight, the woman thought less about succession than her daughter's breathing.
She changed the baby into a spare purple outfit.
The flight attendant warmed a bottle.
The purser checked on them twice.
Other passengers sent small gestures.
A woman offered baby wipes.
A man apologized for recording, then asked permission before sending the video to police.
The mother thanked him.
He asked:
"Are you really taking over tomorrow?"
She looked at him.
"Apparently."
He laughed nervously.
"I guess he picked the wrong passenger."
Her expression changed.
"No."
The man stopped smiling.
"He picked the wrong behavior."
The passenger nodded slowly.
"Right."
That sentence later appeared in his interview with a television station.
The mother hated how much people loved it.
By the time the aircraft landed, the video had more than six million views.
Her phone connected.
Notifications exploded.
Messages.
Calls.
Board directors.
Reporters.
Friends.
Employees she had not spoken to in years.
Her mother.
Thirty-two missed calls.
She called that one first.
Her mother answered before the first ring seemed complete.
"Where is my granddaughter?"
"Sleeping."
"Let me see."
The woman switched to video.
Her mother stared at the baby.
"Turn her."
"Mom."
"Turn her so I can see."
She did.
"Other side."
"She's fine."
"Doctor?"
"Airport medic."
"That is not a doctor."
"Mom."
"I will meet you at the hospital."
"We're not going to the hospital."
"You will if I come drag you."
The woman laughed for the first time in hours.
That helped.
Her mother then became quiet.
"Are you okay?"
The woman looked toward the cabin window.
Passengers were standing now.
The purser remained near the door.
Flight attendants pretended not to listen.
"No."
Her mother nodded.
"Good."
"What?"
"Don't lie to me."
The woman felt tears rise.
She blinked them away.
"I was so angry."
"I know."