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Forty-eight hours later, Arthur logged into his frequent flyer account. The balance, which had sat at a depressing 4,100 miles for years, now read 304,100. His heart did a strange, fluttering acrobatics act in his chest. He immediately booked the tickets. Seat 2A and 2B.

"Mr. and Mrs. Vance," she said, her voice dropping into that professional octave used for delivering bad news. "There seems to be a flag on these tickets." Arthur felt the blood drain from his face. "A flag?" buy airline miles cheap

"Artie," she said softly, pulling him out of the line and away from the staring eyes of the business travelers. "Look at me." Forty-eight hours later, Arthur logged into his frequent