“Tell him about the new job, Meatball,” Noah cuts in, his smile genuine beneath the careful maneuvering.
“He’s at Van Stern Enterprises,” Adam adds quickly, before my father can comment. “One of the most prestigious organizations to work for. Certainly the best in the city.”
I glance at Lior, who sends a nod in my direction. He hasn’t had the full Thatcher Edward Charles II experience, and for a moment, I’m embarrassed for what he might witness at this family meal.
“Works directly with the CFO.” Lex jumps in.
The wine in my glass trembles with each tap of my father’s Rolex against the table. His presence fills the semi-private dining space like smoke, subtle but suffocating, and impossible to ignore.
“Does this mean you’re done with your silly drawings?”
“No, I’m…I’m still working on my portfolio.”
He doesn’t look up from his perfectly cooked steak, but the question cuts deep anyway. “How long will you keep this job before you…? What’s the expression you use? ‘Explore other opportunities?’”
I glance at Lior, who’s sending daggers to my dad with his eyes. Noah’s hand is on his forearm as if he’s keeping himfrom saying something. Now that’s a turn for the books when usually it’s Noah we have to keep from attacking.
“Thatcher will stay at the job however long is right for him,” Uncle Jack interjects. “In the meantime, being a personal assistant to the company’s CFO is no small thing.”
“It’s challenging work,” I say, trying not to sound as small as I feel. “I’m not rushing to leave. There are lots of opportunities to learn new skills and grow in the role.”
“Your brother’s company might be recruiting,” he says, as if I haven’t spoken. “Tobias could put in a word. Something more…stable.”
My shoulders hunch farther with each word. “I’m good where I am,” I manage, though the words sound weak, even to me.
I reach for the messenger bag that hangs low on my chair and touch the sketchpad, allowing the warm leather to ground me. I wish I could take it out and let the pencil work my anxiety away, but that would only disappoint him more.
“Your brother never needed these artistic…distractions,” he continues, cutting his steak with surgical precision. “He understood what was expected of him.”
Uncle Jack watches me with knowing eyes. Sometimes I see a little of my mom in him. The kindness, the unfiltered love, the way his eyes always show his affection.
“My nephew,” Uncle Jack says, “is incredibly talented. My sister saw it, and we all see it. And if you’d take a moment to actually look at what your son creates instead of only focusing on what he’s not, you might see it too.”
My father’s knife scrapes against his plate, the sound sharp and final. “I knew this meal was a waste of time. He’ll never be worthy of the name he carries.” He stands, dropping his napkin on the table. “Call me when you decide to grow up and join the real world.”
The tension dissipates like smoke after he leaves. Aunt Carla appears moments later, sliding into the chair my father vacated and pulling me into a fierce hug.
“Don’t you listen to a word that man says,” she whispers against my hair. “You are exactly who you’re supposed to be.”
When she pulls back, her eyes are fierce. “Now. I’m bringing out the chocolate mousse, and we’re going to enjoy the rest of this meal without any more nonsense.” She stands, smoothing her apron. “Jack, get the good wine from the cellar. The expensive one.”
Uncle Jack grins. “The one we save for special occasions?”
“Our nephew surviving his father’s visit is a special occasion.”
I pull out my sketchbook, letting my pencil move across the paper while the family catches up. Lex and Noah argue about Lex and Emery’s upcoming camping trip, which Noah wants to crash, much to Emery’s and Lior’s shocked faces, while Adam shares stories about his and River’s wedding plans.
Lior slides into the empty chair next to me, peering at my sketch with interest. “I wanted to check in on you. You seem to have settled in okay.”
“Oh, um, I think I’m doing okay,” I say, suddenly very focused on shading. “Why? Did Pierce say anything? Am I in trouble?”
Lior’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Why would you be in trouble?”
“No reason! Just, you know, general…anxiety?” I try to laugh it off, but it comes out more like a nervous hiccup.
“Actually, I wanted to apologize for you being thrown into the deep end. I’m incredibly grateful for your grace in this situation,” Lior says. “I hope the lack of direct training hasn’t been too challenging.”
“Honestly? I’m really enjoying the work and everyone in the office is super nice.”
