“Excuse me,” Claire said, her voice steady but edged with restraint. “Your son just splashed water on my book. Could you maybe ask him to be a bit more careful?” The woman glanced up briefly, the kind of glance you give when you’re interrupted mid-sentence in an email.
“Oh, I’m sure it was an accident,” she said, offering a thin smile before looking back down. “He’s just excited to be here.” “I understand,” Claire replied, forcing the words through a tight jaw, “but maybe he could keep the water closer to the shoreline?”