Andrew looked more closely now. The notebook tucked half out of the boy’s bag was filled with densely written equations. There was a precision in the way he spoke, a steadiness in the way he moved, and an intelligence in his face that was impossible to miss.
“What’s your name?” Andrew asked.
The boy looked up. “Noah Bennett. I’m sixteen. I’m from the South Side of Chicago. I’m on my way to London for the International Mathematics Championship.”
Something shifted in Andrew then, though he could not yet have said exactly what it was.
He only knew that the teenager who had just done what nannies, pediatric consultants, and every expensive convenience in his life had failed to do was not a trained infant specialist or some polished prodigy from a wealthy school. He was a brilliant kid from one of the hardest neighborhoods in America, carrying himself with a composure most executives Andrew knew had never achieved.
And neither of them yet understood that this meeting, born out of a crying baby and a sleepless flight, was about to change both of their lives.