“So, Jenny, since I’m the favorite son”—he’s met by four scoffs—“what are the chances of taking some of those donuts back with me?” “If you make them, you can take them.” “Always trying to get me to work,” Beck groans. Dad laughs. “You think what you’ve been doing is considered work, Teddy?” “Jenny,” Beck whines. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that?” “Pretty much.”
