That should have reassured her.
Instead, it reminded her of the way he answered questions he did not want to discuss.
Now she sat inside the first-class cabin watching a flight attendant quietly speak with the gate podium through an internal telephone.
Something was wrong.
The flight attendant looked toward her.
Then quickly looked away.
The captain's wife felt a cold sensation in her stomach.
She opened her phone.
The airline application still showed her original seat.
29C.
The first-class upgrade notification displayed only a temporary operational note.
No valid replacement boarding pass had been issued through the usual process.
She frowned.
Then opened a message her husband sent less than an hour earlier.
If they ask, say the station supervisor approved the seat. Don't discuss the dog.
She stared.
The dog?
What dog?
She had asked him that earlier.
He claimed another passenger had brought an animal unsuitable for the cabin.
She knew some passengers traveled with trained service animals.
During her own flying career, she had assisted people with mobility disabilities, hearing impairments, and other needs.
She had seen how important those animals could be.
She did not believe a passenger should lose a confirmed seat simply because a captain disliked a dog.
But her husband insisted the matter was operational.
Then he told her to enjoy the upgrade.
Now she looked toward the flight attendant.
The woman was visibly uncomfortable.
The captain's wife raised one hand.
"Excuse me?"
The attendant approached.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Is there a problem with this seat?"
The attendant hesitated.
"Operations is reviewing the boarding records."
The woman felt her throat tighten.
"Was it assigned to somebody else?"
The attendant looked toward the cockpit.
Then back at her.
"I can't confirm the final seating arrangement yet."
The wife studied her expression.
She knew that face.
The face of a young flight attendant trying to remain professional while being trapped between a passenger and a more powerful employee.