We arrived back at the stable and handed our horses over to the groom who cared for them. I linked my arm through Quinton’s, and we strolled into the clubhouse.
Once we were seated and our usual order was brought to us, I took a sip of my grapefruit juice on the rocks and then got right down to what concerned me.
“Sweetheart, you’ve been quite distracted today.”
He covered his face with his palm. “I apologize, Mother!”
“Not at all.” I reached across the small table and rested my hand on his. “I’m well aware you would never permit work to infringe on our time together, that you would consider it the worst of poor taste.”
“No.” He met my eyes steadily.
“Am I wrong in assuming this concerns that statue of a dog you had delivered to my house?”
“No,” he said again.
“Did you get it for Mark Vincent?”