Chapter 53

“Yes, please, Liam. Thank you.” Mother settled herself in her seat and carefully removed her riding gloves. She chatted desultorily of her various charities, of the possibility of Victory favoring her off hind leg, of me having dinner with her one evening soon. Liam brought her grapefruit juice on the rocks and my Perrier with a twist of lime, and then left us alone.

Mother took a sip of her juice, blotted her lips neatly with her napkin, and looked into my eyes. “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. Am I wrong in assuming this concerns that statue of a dog you had delivered to my house?”

I squeezed the lime into my designer water. “No.”

“Did you get it for Mark Vincent?”