Everyone is seated when I arrive in the dining room. Keith doesn’t even look up when I enter, which at first kind of offends me, but then I realize that he’s probably just putting on an act so as to not arouse suspicion.

“There she is,” my mom says as she pours her orange juice. “How’d you sleep, honey?”

“Was the couch all right?” Carson asks. “Comfortable enough for you?”

“It was–”

“I’m sure it was fine,” Keith interrupts, his mouth full of bacon. “This isn’t the Four Seasons.”

Carson tosses his son a scolding glance. “And you’re not Bill Burr either, so let’s try to keep the jokes to...