“Stop hiding in the kitchen,” Maman tuts. “It’s time for dinner.”
At a table with eight chairs, the only places left for Julien to sit are across from Thomas or next to him. If he’s across from Thomas, he’ll get to sit between Matthieu and Rafael, but he’ll have to stare at his stupid face the whole time.
Maybe Julien can just look away.
Papa takes his seat at the head, and Maman takes hers at the foot. Rafael and Sam have both chosen to sit towards Maman, which was a bold move. Wonder how that’ll pay off.
“Rafael was kind enough to bring us this beautiful wine.” Maman gestures to the opened bottle on the table. “Would anyone like a glass?”
Matthieu stands, gathering the bottle and reading the label. “Nice work.” He pours a glass for Papa, Maman, Rafael, and himself.
There’s only a splash left, but Maman still asks, “Surely you’d like a taste, Julien? Sam? Thomas?”
Julien doesn’t care about wine, he only picked out something expensive with the words Mattieu texted him. He knows better than to admit so out loud. “I drove us tonight.”
Sam doesn’t know better. “If you gotta couple’a ice cubes, I could be convinced.”
The entire Dubois family stares at him in horrified silence before Thomas stands. “I will get us some water with ice. Julien? Water?”
It’s rare to see Thomas embarrassed. Maybe this Sam phase is a good thing after all.
“Yeah, thanks.”
When he leaves, it’s quiet enough for the table to hear Thomas working in the kitchen. Matthieu pours the final splash into his own glass and sets the empty bottle back on the table.
Thomas returns with three cups and asks, “So, Matthieu, what is on the menu for tonight?”
Smooth.
Matthieu is a better brother than Julien is. He takes the hint and delves into far too much detail as he rattles on about every dish.
Julien would’ve microwaved a can of green beans instead of doing so much work, but to each their own. “Looks good, Mathé.” Quieter, he leans in and asks, “What should I avoid?”
He’ll take any advantage over Sam and Thomas he can get.
“The duck is full of protein, but remove the skin. Give it to Rafael—it’s the best part. Skip the potatoes and bread, eat the green beans and carrots. They’ve got tons of garlic and butter, so you’ll like them.”
“Tonsof butter?”
“Enough to make you want to eat them.” Matthieu pulls the carrot-filled serving dish closer and piles some on Julien’s plate. “Just work the rest off. I’m sure Rafael would love to help.”
“Matthieu!”
“Anything you boys would like to share with the table?” Maman gives them a stern glare as she picks her slices of duck.
Julien takes the serving plate before Matthieu can spoon any carrots for himself and passes it to Rafael. “Matthieu is trying to make us fat before the race this weekend.”
The traitor snorts, but doesn’t disagree.
“How do you boys feel about this weekend? Who do you think will win?” Maman doesn’t know what can of worms she’s opening by asking. She thinks it’s polite dinner talk.
“The newspapers favor Thomas.” Papa should know better. “Then the German boy, then Sam.”
“Historically speaking, the track favors Julien.” Rafael passes the dish in his hands and picks up the potatoes. “Then Sam, then Thomas and Friedrich. My money’s on Julien.”
Matthieu may not follow the sport, but he sounds almost giddy when he says, “I wouldloveto hear why.”
Thomas is less thrilled. “Yes, Rafael.Pleaseexplain why my home race favors Julien so much.”
