Rachel bit down on her cheek to stifle the ill-timed laugh begging to burst from her lungs.
The way her family had acted so far was no laughing matter, but the look on Jo's face when the server placed the first course in front of him was priceless. Maybe it was the air of tension that made her want to giggle dementedly, but she did her best to remain behaved.
"It's the amuse bouche," she whispered discretely in Jo's ear. "The first course."
Jo nodded, clearly still confused by the 3 centimeter cube of layered goat cheese and roasted beet sitting on a plate 10 times its size. Looking at it through his eyes, Rachel felt the mirth rising in her chest. What was the point, really, of such a small thing? Leading him by example, she selected the small fork furthest from her plate and scooped up the tiny morsel. Jo did the same, though with less grace.
All levity abandoned her when she glanced across the table and noticed her sister's raised eyebrow as she leaned over to her husband. Sarah's whisper was just loud enough to reach Rachel's ears.
"It's like a live reenactment of Scarface."
The food in her mouth lost all flavor as she peeked at Jo to see if Sarah's words had reached him. His head was bent, eyes secured on the napkin in his lap, and he looked as if he were trying to swallow a mouthful of sand.
"How was your trip to Paris, Emily?" she blurted out, desperate to sway the conversation in a positive direction.
"Exhausting, really," Emily said, the intentional boredom in her voice clashing with the ecstasy in her eyes. "We went straight from Fashion Week to a vineyard tour through South France, and then back to Paris a week later so Steve's business partner could drag us to every function in the city. Honestly, I needed the last two weeks just to recover from all the travel."
Emily's droning descriptions carried them through the chilled cauliflower soup and didn't stop until halfway through the seared scallops. Rachel watched as Jo attempted to listen politely while trying to follow her cues on which fork to use. So far, so good. Aside from a few snide comments and a rather icy reception, the dinner was off to decent start.
"What do you do, Jo?" Steve asked politely, reminding Rachel why he was her favorite brother-in-law.
"I work for FFQ Construction," Jo said as the server placed a cut of seared, blue fin tuna in front of him.
"I'm not familiar with that firm," Matt piped in with a conceited smile. "Which buildings have they consulted on?"
Jo seemed to find his plate exceedingly interesting, as his eyes were glued to it.
"It's mostly home and business renovation and some street construction," he said quietly as though the entire table wasn't listening with rapt attention.
"Is there much need for a Construction Manager with those types of projects?" Sarah asked innocently.
Jo looked at Rachel, confused, but she understood the question no better.
"Construction Manger?" she asked.
"Well that's what he is, isn't he?"
Rachel looked at her mother questioningly.
"Don't look at me, Rachel. You said he worked in construction. I assumed you meant a Construction Manger."
"What exactly do you do?"
Rachel wanted to smack the smirk off of Matt's pompous face.
"I'm a laborer."
Emily snorted ungracefully while their mother's eyes rivaled the dinner plates in size.
YOU ARE READING
Way Down I'll Go
General FictionJo's brothers are his world. He's spent his entire life sacrificing everything to give them the life he's never had. Having battled through a horrific childhood, his every breath is for the benefit of his brothers, who gave him a reason to live thro...
