Dad doesn't really know how to respond to this, so he rather impotently huffs, "Yeah, well, that's your -- that's your own business." He takes a few steps away from her, and Patty starts crying in earnest: "So why does there have to be this distance between us?" Dad announces, "Well, that's not my doing." Patty looks like she can't believe her ears. They stand apart from each other for a beat. Dad watches her crying for a moment, and then takes a step, puts his hand on her shoulder, and says, "All right, now." She turns to hug him, and he warns her, "Careful, now. I didn't shave today. Didn't have to, that's the good thing about retirement." I guess Glark's retired, then. (Okay, so am I.) Rebuffed, Patty folds her arms and breathes, "I don't care." Dad says, "When you were a little girl, I'd go to give you a kiss goodnight. Boy, if I hadn't shaved, you'd push me away. Say my whiskers were too rough." Dreamily, Patty replies, "Well, they were, then." Dad says, "That's what it is to raise a girl: walking on eggshells half the time. You hungry? Come on, I'll buy you a piece of pie." Stone-faced, Patty watches as Dad turns off the rest of the lights. Because he's still possessive about the business. Get it? Do you get it? Okay, who here doesn't get it?