Speaking of financial markets, Henry, what’s your take on the Fed’s latest signals? Effectively erasing her effort without acknowledging it had occurred. By the fish course, the familiar pattern had fully emerged, with father periodically lobbing pointed questions in my direction, each designed to undermine rather than engage. Eliza, your firm handles primarily domestic investments, correct? Limiting isn’t it given the global expansion opportunities? Or, I understand your promotion came after the Davidson account.
Fortunate timing that James was able to introduce you to William Davidson at last year’s charity gala. Each comment carefully constructed to reframe any success as either limited in scope or dependent on family connections I had actively avoided, using. I maintained the pleasant professional demeanor I’d perfected in hostile board rooms, refusing to show the emotional reaction he seemed determined to provoke.
Actually, father, our international division integrated my risk assessment model last quarter, and the Davidson account came through a blind pitch competition, no introductions involved. My corrections were delivered with practiced lightness, though I noticed Sophia’s sympathetic wince at each exchange, the familiar family dance painful in its predictability. The main course arrived, an unnecessarily elaborate beef wellington that required all attention for several minutes, providing brief respite from the conversational minefield.
Father used the opportunity to open another bottle of prohibitively expensive wine, his consumption steadily increasing throughout the meal, a concerning pattern that mother tracked with nervous glances. James leaned over to mutter something, in father’s ear, receiving a dismissive wave in response. As coffee and dessert were served, father’s attention swung back in my direction, alcohol having eroded what minimal filters he typically maintained.
Eliza, Richard tells me you’re still single, commented Mrs. Peterson with well-meaning interest. Such a beautiful, accomplished young woman. The men in New York must be intimidated.
Before I could formulate a polite response about prioritizing, career advancement, father interjected. Eliza has always been focused on proving something rather than building something, he said, swirling his bourbon contemplatively. Some people chase accomplishments to fill other voids.
Family requires compromise, something the Matthews women have traditionally understood better than she has. The casual cruelty landed with practiced precision, implying my professional success was compensation for personal failure rather than an achievement in its own right. Mother’s sharp intake of breath was audible even from my distant table position.
Richard, she began with uncharacteristic firmness, but he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. Perhaps if Eliza had shown more interest in suitable matches I introduced over the years rather than dismissing them as boring or conventional, she wouldn’t be facing her 30s alone. Each word was carefully selected for maximum impact.
The public dissection of my personal choices presented as paternal concern rather than the hostile critique it truly was, the familiar pressure built behind my eyes. The childhood urge to flee from the table, fighting against adult determination to maintain dignity. I took a measured sip of water, noting with detached interest that my hand remained steady despite the emotional turbulence beneath.
I appreciate your concern for my personal fulfillment, father, I responded evenly, drawing on every negotiation technique I’d ever learned. But as you’ve often emphasized, Matthews focus on results, and my results speak for themselves. A tense silence fell over the table, relatives who had witnessed similar exchanges over the years studiously examining their dessert plates while father’s business associates shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very interested in the architectural details of the ceiling.
The pressure in my chest expanded with each heartbeat, the culmination of a lifetime of these moments, these public humiliations thinly disguised as family concern, these careful erasures of my personhood and achievements. The envelope in my purse seemed to pulse with potential energy, a nuclear option I had promised myself and Taylor I wouldn’t deploy. As waitstaff cleared dessert plates, I realized with perfect clarity that the current path was unsustainable, that continuing to seek approval from a man genetically programmed to withhold it was a form of self-destruction I could no longer afford.
As coffee cups were being refilled and brandy offered to conclude the elaborate meal, father pushed his chair back slightly, a signal universally understood by the gathered family as preparation for one of his impromptu speeches, a tradition that had evolved over years of Matthew’s gatherings. The anticipatory silence fell immediately, conversations halting mid-sentence, silverware carefully placed down, all attention reflexively turning toward the patriarch. Father stood, brandy snifter in hand, his expression taking on the benevolent authority he reserved for these moments of public performance.
Before we dispersed to the for our annual family photograph, he began, voice carrying that particular timbre of someone accustomed to commanding rooms, I’d like to take a moment to express my pride in what the Matthew’s family continues to build together. He gestured expansively, including the business associates as honorary members of this supposed dynasty. A family is much like a business, enterprise, requiring vision, leadership, and participants who understand their roles in creating collective success.
His gaze swept the table in that practiced way of appearing to make eye contact with everyone while actually connecting with no one. As I look around this table, I’m reminded of how fortunate I am to have children who contribute to the family, legacy in meaningful ways. He turned toward James, raising his glass slightly.
James, your business acumen continues to impress not just me, but the entire Boston development community. The Riverside project represents exactly the kind of bold, forward-thinking approach that distinguishes Matthew’s projects from lesser ventures. You’ve not only embraced the lessons I’ve taught you, but you’ve elevated them.
James nodded with practiced humility that barely concealed his satisfaction, the golden child receiving his expected due. Father then shifted toward Sophia, his expression warming further. And Sophia, your grace in balancing family responsibilities with community leadership shows remarkable maturity.
Your work with the Children’s Hospital Board has brought genuine prestige to the Matthews name, reminding us all that true success includes giving back. Your mother and I couldn’t be prouder of the family you’re raising and the values you represent. Sophia’s smile was genuine if slightly uncomfortable with the spotlight, always more comfortable facilitating others’ recognition than receiving her own.
I braced myself for what would inevitably come next, the careful omission, the pointed silence where my name should be, the practiced technique of praise by exclusion that would communicate volumes to everyone present without requiring explicit criticism. What happened instead was somehow worse. Father’s gaze finally landed on me, the slight narrowing of his eyes betraying the calculated nature of what would follow.
As I reflect on my children’s accomplishments, he continued, voice modulating, to what others might mistake for thoughtfulness rather than the prelude to attack it actually signaled, I’m struck by how differently success can be defined. He took a deliberate sip of brandy, the theatrical pause allowing tension to build. I’m proud of all my children, he announced, raising his glass higher, and for a suspended moment, I felt a ridiculous flutter of hope, quickly extinguished.
By his continuation, except for the loser sitting at the table, the words landed with precision cruelty, followed by a beat of shocked silence before uncertain laughter rippled through the guests, most assuming this must be some inside family joke rather than the public evisceration it actually was. I felt blood rush to my face then drain away completely, leaving a cold numbness as every eye at the table turned toward me with expressions ranging from embarrassment to pity to morbid curiosity. Father continued as if he’d made a mild joke about the weather.