Phoebe, who had joined us permanently as chief financial officer because I was not about to let a mind like that walk back out the door, would stop by with the quarterly numbers and we would drink bad coffee and watch the company she had helped me save grow, cleanly, in the light.

“Morale hasn’t been this high in a decade,” she told me once, and her eyes were bright with it.

“When Flynn ran this place, everyone came to work braced for the next round of cuts.

Now they come in and they know the company is actually standing behind them.

That’s your father’s company again.

You gave it back to itself.”

On the anniversary of that rain-slicked morning at the airport, I walked through the private terminal once more, on my way to Seattle for the company’s annual expansion summit.