Something that suggested Naomi's request to review the dispatch authorization had frightened him far more than the possibility of losing his job.
Naomi noticed immediately.
She studied him.
"Captain?"
He swallowed.
"Yes?"
"Is there something else I should know about today's flight?"
Richard shook his head too quickly.
"No."
Naomi looked toward the closed cockpit door.
Then back at him.
"Are you certain?"
The pilot forced a smile.
"Everything is perfectly normal."
But at that exact moment, a message appeared on Naomi's phone.
It came from her director of flight operations.
Ms. Ellis, do not authorize departure. We have discovered a discrepancy in today's flight assignment.
Naomi read the message.
Then slowly lifted her eyes toward Richard.
For the first time that afternoon, she stopped smiling.
Because the pilot's arrogance was about to expose something much larger than an insulting misunderstanding.
And the aircraft sitting on the private ramp at Teterboro Airport was carrying a secret that could destroy far more than one man's career.
Naomi Ellis had spent most of her childhood believing that private jets belonged to a world she would never enter.
She grew up in Newark, New Jersey, in a modest apartment above a small neighborhood pharmacy.
Her mother, Evelyn Ellis, worked as an airport catering supervisor.
Her father, Thomas, repaired commercial refrigeration systems.
Neither had a college degree.
Neither came from money.
And neither had the kind of professional connections that opened doors into expensive universities or corporate boardrooms.
But they believed deeply in education.
They believed in honest work.
And, perhaps most importantly, they believed their daughter should never confuse her circumstances with the limits of her potential.
Every weekday morning, Evelyn left home before sunrise.
She caught a bus toward the airport catering facility, where hundreds of meals were prepared for commercial flights and private aircraft.
Some days, her job involved ordinary airline food.
Plastic trays.
Wrapped sandwiches.
Prepackaged salads.
Other days, she supervised elaborate meals for wealthy private clients.
Fresh seafood.
Imported fruit.
Expensive desserts.
And carefully arranged dishes designed for people who could spend thousands of dollars on a single afternoon of travel.
Naomi remembered being fascinated by the stories.
"Mom, what do rich people eat on airplanes?"