“Would that have shown up before takeoff?” she asked.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It’s not supposed to be.”
She did not apologize for doubting him. But she stopped repeating Miles’s language after that.
By week three, Miles had begun withholding approvals for replacement parts over a thousand dollars. He called them review delays. Evan called them what they were: pressure. When the pressurization controller needed replacement and Miles insisted on a forty-eight-hour review, Evan used his own line of credit to order the part.
Lena found out when she saw the bank confirmation on his desk.
“Evan.”
“Don’t start.”
“You’re floating parts for a company that owns half the skyline in Charlotte.”
“I’m floating time. There’s a difference.”
“The bank doesn’t care about the difference.”
“No,” he said. “But that airplane will.”
Norah called that night while he was locking the shop.
“Are you eating real food?” she asked.
He smiled into the phone. “That’s my line.”
“You use it too much. I’m expanding the family brand.”
“I had a sandwich.”
“When?”
He looked toward the hangar door, where rain had started again in silver lines. “Recently adjacent.”
“Dad.”
“I’ll get something on the way home.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Is this job going to fix the bank thing?”
He closed his eyes briefly.
Norah had Maria’s directness. She could circle a hard truth for about eight seconds, then she got impatient and walked straight into it.
“It’ll help,” he said.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the one I have tonight.”
A pause.
“Then don’t let them mess with you.”
He laughed once. “Language.”
“I didn’t use language.”
“You implied language.”
See more on the next page
