Those 2D secondary characters

So I presented a chapter to my critique group. It was a revised version of a chapter they had already seen and they, in a round-about fashion, pointed out that a very important character was flat.

Some people said he lacked emotion and implied that there was a lack of transition between parts of the scene.

But the real problem was that he was a two-dimensional character.

Gerald. He's middle-aged and portly. In the first book, he has two mentions: 1. Étienne remembers running into Gerald and his two daughters in the airport in 1989. Literally, it's one sentence. And 2. Gerald calls his daughter on a Sunday morning to see how she's doing.

This is the conversation:

Then, [Adelaide] heard it: muffled electronic music from her dry cleaning pile. When she got closer to the dirty clothes, she recognized "Jack and Diane." She dug toward yesterday’s slacks and retrieved the ringing cellular.
"Hello," she said, wondering if it were her mom or her dad.
"Hey, Pumpkin," her dad replied. "How’s my girl? You didn’t answer your phone [in your New York apartment]. You get away for the weekend?"
"Yeah," Adelaide replied. "I had a date."
"Oh, no, Pumpkin. Who is it this time?"
"He’s a photographer, Dad."
"Not another fruit…"
"Daddy!"
"I don’t want to hear anymore. Whatever happened to Thad?"
"Tom, Dad."
"I liked him. He played rugby, didn’t he?"
"Yeah, Dad. That was Tom."
"Never saw a rugby game. But he seemed..." her father’s voice trailed.
"Manly, Dad?" she suggested. "Have you heard from Jay?"
"She likes it in Germany. She likes the school."
Of course Janine likes the school, she’s the bookish one, Adelaide thought. Her sister, the Fulbright Scholar. Everyone referred to Adelaide as the pretty one long before Étienne.
"Okay, Helen… Your mother wants to talk to you," Dad said.

So, now I'm in the next book in the series. Adelaide has committed suicide and Gerald has just heard her voice in the bathroom. Étienne, Zélie and Adelaide's mother have also heard the voice.

This is how the conversation in the kitchen, about ten minutes after hearing the voice, started:

Helen Pitney [Adelaide's mom], in her plaid flannel nightgown, walked beside the breakfast bar, her hand trailing the surface as her moccasin slippers shuffled against the slate. Gerald sat on the other side, hunched over his wine. Étienne emptied his glass as Gerald reached for the bottle. Zélie adjusted her robe. Helen commenced another lap. Jules’ eyes sought direction from Étienne, but Étienne wasn’t sure whether he should dismiss the chef or tell him to do something.
“This is the first time you’ve served ice wine,” Gerald Pitney said, raising the glass.
“Your daughter bought it,” Étienne replied. “Since we are thinking of her...”
“I like eiswein,” Gerald said. “Other countries flash-freeze the grapes. That’s not the same. Germany does not flash-freeze. Nature does it.”
“This bottle is from the Saturday harvest,” Étienne replied.
Zélie rose from the overstuffed chair.
“What’s going on?” she asked.

Can you see how even in such small scenes, Gerald has a personality in the first one but he's nothing in the second? This is Gerald's last scene. In my mind, I made him disposable and never bothered making him real because I know he'll be out of the book within the next ten pages...

So I tried again...

“This is the first time you’ve served ice wine,” Gerald Pitney said.
“Your daughter bought it,” Étienne replied.
“Adelaide? Bought such a fine eiswein?” Gerald said.
“Oui,” Étienne confirmed.
“You don’t spent a decade with Étienne d’Amille and not learn a thing or two about wines,” Zélie said.
“I would not have guessed, about my Adelaide and the wine,” Gerald said, lifting his glass as if studying the color of its contents. “I like eiswein. Other countries flash-freeze the grapes. In Germany, nature does it. Did you know that?”
“Mais oui. This bottle is from the Saturday harvest,” Étienne replied.
Zélie braced her arms against the overstuffed chair and pushed herself to standing.
“Oh, for the love of heaven. What’s going on?” she asked. “Are we here to have a wine tasting or did we hear something in that bathroom?”

It still lacks any emotion. This man's daughter just committed suicide. Even though it's Étienne's POV, Étienne would notice this man's state. I haven't fixed it yet, but this is my progress:

Helen Pitney, in her plaid nightgown, walked along the bar, her hand trailing the surface. Her moccasin slippers shuffled against the slate. Her scratchy footfalls were the only interruption to the awkward silence. Gerald hunched nearby, his hand grasping the wine bottle. Zélie adjusted her robe. Helen commenced another lap. Jules’ eyes sought direction from Étienne, but Étienne wasn’t sure whether he should dismiss the chef or tell him to do something.
“This is the first time you’ve served ice wine,” Gerald Pitney said.
“Your daughter bought it,” Étienne replied.
“Adelaide?” Gerald said.
“Oui,” Étienne confirmed.
“When did she learn about wines?” Gerald asked.
“You don’t spent a decade with Étienne d’Amille and not learn about wines,” Zélie said.
Étienne approached the bar, reaching for the bottle from Gerald so he could have a second glass. Gerald passed it, and as he did, his breathing filled the kitchen with the heavy sound of a man struggling with his composure. Étienne poured the wine, only partially aware of the alcohol filling the cup. He focused instead on Gerald’s detached stare.
“My pumpkin and the wine,” Gerald said. “I like eiswein. Other countries flash-freeze the grapes. In Germany, nature does it. Did you know that?”
“Mais oui. This bottle is from the Saturday harvest,” Étienne replied.
Zélie braced her arms against the overstuffed chair and pushed herself to standing.
“Oh, for the love of heaven. What’s going on?” she asked. “Are we here to have a wine tasting or did we hear something in that bathroom?”

Hopefully, I'll feel more inspired another day.