I was about to make a joke when Josie stomped back, her face red with frustration. “Fifteen bucks!” she fumed. “He wants fifteen bucks for a pretzel.” The ten I’d given her trembled in her hand. “Fifteen, Dad!” “Jesus,” I muttered, reaching for my wallet to hand her another five. She pushed the ten back at me. “No way. I’m not buying into that rip-off. Told him I wanted a pretzel, not a share in the pretzel company.”
