The question was not accusing, but it struck deeper than one would have.
Henry wanted to say Claire had never feared him. He wanted to believe there had been no part of her life she felt compelled to hide.
But grief had forced him to reconsider many things.
In the weeks after her death, he had found half-finished notes in drawers and unopened packages in closets. He had discovered that she had ordered a mobile for Nora’s crib and written letters to their daughter for future birthdays.
Claire had prepared for possibilities she never discussed.
Perhaps she had been afraid not of Henry, but of time.
“She may have been waiting until she understood the whole story,” he said.
Mason returned the phone.
“What happens when we land?”
“We meet Anna Adler.”
“I can go alone.”
“You’re sixteen.”
“Seventeen.”
“That doesn’t strengthen your argument as much as you think.”
Mason’s expression tightened. “I’ve traveled alone before.”
“I’m sure you have.”
“I don’t need someone taking control just because he owns a private company and sits in first class.”
Henry glanced around the cramped crew compartment.
“At the moment, neither of those facts seems especially useful.”
Mason looked surprised.
Henry lowered his voice.
“I’m not trying to control you. But Claire wanted us there together. Whatever she was doing, she believed it concerned both of us.”
Mason studied him for a long time.
“Will you tell me the truth if you learn something you don’t like?”
Henry had been asked harder questions in boardrooms, but none that made him examine himself so quickly.
“Yes.”
“Even if it changes what you think about Claire?”
Henry looked down at his daughter.
“Especially then.”
For the remaining hours of the flight, the tension between them slowly changed shape.
It did not disappear. Henry still had questions Mason could not answer, and Mason remained guarded whenever the conversation moved too close to his mother. But they were no longer strangers divided by a curtain and the cost of their seats.
Mason showed Henry how to recognize the difference between Nora’s hungry cry and the restless sound she made when she needed to be moved. Henry listened with a humility that would have astonished anyone who knew him professionally.
In return, Henry told Mason small things about Claire.
He described how she read the final page of a novel first because she claimed it helped her appreciate the journey. He told him about the time she had tried to repair a leaking sink and flooded half the kitchen rather than admit she needed help.
Mason smiled at that.
“She told me she was good at fixing things.”
“She was good at convincing people she could fix things.”
“She fixed my school application.”
“Then perhaps she improved with practice.”
The smile faded from Mason’s face.
“She talked about Nora before she was born.”
Henry’s chest tightened. “What did she say?”
“That she hoped Nora would be curious. She said curiosity was more important than being impressive.”
“That sounds like her.”
“She also said you would probably buy too many things for the baby.”
Henry looked at the designer diaper bag, the portable bottle warmer, the specialized travel crib, and three unopened packages of infant accessories.
Mason raised an eyebrow.
“Not a word,” Henry said.
For the first time, Mason laughed.
It was a small sound, but it changed the atmosphere in the compartment.
When the plane began its descent into Zurich, morning light appeared beneath the clouds. The city emerged in shades of gray and silver, rooftops glistening after rain. Beyond them, the lake stretched toward distant mountains wrapped in mist.
Nora slept against Henry’s chest.
