His expression was controlled, but Ethan knew him well enough to recognize anger.
“I gave you an instruction.”
“He couldn't stand.”
“I told you passenger assistance would handle it.”
“There wasn't anyone here.”
“That isn't your responsibility.”
Ethan glanced at Richard.
“Someone had to help him.”
Collins looked around.
Several passengers were watching.
That seemed to make him angrier.
“You think this is optional?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why did you walk away from your station?”
“Because he needed help.”
Collins stared at him.
Then said quietly:
“You're suspended.”
Ethan froze.
The words hurt more than he expected.
“How long?”
“Until management decides whether you're coming back.”
Ethan swallowed.
He wanted to argue.
He wanted to explain that he had never missed a shift.
That he had covered for other employees.
That he had stayed late without complaining.
Instead, he simply said:
“Okay.”
Richard looked up.
“You're suspending him for helping me?”
Collins turned.
“This is an internal employment matter.”
“He gave me his water.”
“Sir, with respect, you don't understand our procedures.”
Richard's expression became very still.
“No,” he said quietly.
“Perhaps I don't.”
Ethan removed his work gloves.
He looked at his cleaning cart.
Then at the badge clipped to his vest.
His stomach tightened.
How was he going to tell his mother?
Collins pointed toward the staff corridor.
“Clock out.”
Ethan nodded.
Before he could leave, Richard spoke.
“Ethan.”
He turned.
Richard was still sitting on the floor beside the bench.
“Was that really your water?”
Ethan shrugged.
“It was just water.”
“And you knew helping me might get you in trouble?”
Ethan looked uncomfortable.
“You were on the floor.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Ethan hesitated.
Then answered.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The terminal seemed quieter now.
Ethan looked at him as though the answer were obvious.
“Because you needed somebody.”
Richard stared at the seventeen-year-old for several seconds.
Something changed in his face.
Not gratitude.
Not exactly.
It was closer to recognition.
Richard adjusted the briefcase against his leg.
Then reached inside his soaked coat.
For the first time, he removed a black smartphone.
Ethan assumed he was finally calling a relative.
Richard raised the phone.
Pressed it firmly to his ear.
Waited.
Someone answered.
His posture changed.
Only slightly.
But Ethan noticed.
The exhausted stranger seemed to disappear behind something calmer.
Sharper.
Richard spoke.
“Postpone the board meeting.”
Collins stopped breathing for a second.
Ethan looked at him.
Then back at Richard.
Richard listened.
“Yes.”
His eyes moved toward Collins.
“I'm at Terminal B, Riverside International Airport.”
Another pause.
“No. Don't send anyone yet.”
Richard's voice remained quiet.
“I have something I need to deal with first.”
He ended the call.
The terminal noise returned around them.
Ethan stared.
Collins' face had changed.
“Mr... Bennett?”
Richard slipped the phone back into his coat.
“Yes?”
“What board meeting?”
Richard looked at him.
“That,” he said, “is not your concern.”
For the first time that evening, Collins had no answer.
Thirty-two floors above downtown, twelve people were waiting for Richard Bennett.
None of them knew he was sitting on an airport floor.
The meeting was being held at the headquarters of Bennett Meridian Holdings, one of the country's largest privately controlled infrastructure investment groups.
At 7:30 p.m., Richard's empty chair remained at the head of the conference table.
His daughter, Katherine Bennett, checked her phone.
“Postponed?” asked one director.
Katherine nodded.
“My father called personally.”
“Where is he?”
“He didn't say.”
That was unusual.
Richard Bennett was known for being precise.
He was also known for something else.
He hated ceremonial treatment.
For decades, magazines had tried to photograph him arriving at galas, conferences and shareholder meetings.
Richard avoided most of them.
He disliked limousines.
He disliked private entrances.
He disliked being surrounded by assistants.
His clothes outside formal meetings were famously ordinary.
But even Katherine would have been surprised by what had happened that evening.
Richard had intentionally dismissed his driver three blocks from Riverside International.
He wanted to walk.
He wanted time to think.
The rain had become heavier than expected.
By the time he reached Terminal B, his coat was soaked and his body temperature had dropped.
The collapse had not been planned.
Neither had Ethan Carter.
Back at the airport, Richard had finally agreed to move from the floor to a nearby seat.
Ethan remained several feet away.
Technically, he was supposed to clock out.
But leaving felt wrong.
Collins was speaking quietly into his radio.
Richard noticed.
“Calling security?”
Collins lowered it.
“No.”
“Good.”
Richard looked toward Ethan.
“Sit down.”