Ryder stood just inside the sliding doors of the McGee Tyson airport, boots planted wide, a quiet wall of composure against the tide of travelers rushing past. When the Wrights finally appeared, emerging from security with the unhurried grace of people who belonged to a different world entirely, Ryder’s chest eased.

“Thomas, Grace,” he greeted, his drawl smooth as river whiskey but clipped here and there with that New York edge he’d never quite shaken. He hugged Grace warmly, shook ...