Rachel Woods

Beanie wasn’t about to tell Noelle that she was acting paranoid. He wasn’t going to give her a reason to remind him that, as a mother, she automatically worried about the boys more than he did because she carried them in her womb. Beanie didn’t think their levels of worry should be compared, or that his degree of concern didn’t measure up or match his wife’s, but he didn’t want to argue.

His wife was a bit protective and was desperate to shield their sons from problems, but Beanie didn’t want to raise their sons in a bubble. He would protect his boys with his life, but they had to learn that life wasn’t always going to be easy or fair or free from problems ands worries.

The furniture was modern, featuring boxy pieces that Beanie wasn’t quite sure how to sit on, or if he was even allowed to. Odd for a couple with four kids, Beanie thought. Then again, the Pinkerton children were rigidly obedient and disturbingly polite and respectful.

“Young man, you need to learn how to say no,” advised the gangster.
“Beanie let out a snorting laugh. “I would have said no if my wife hadn’t volunteered my services.”
“Well, if your wife told you to do it, then that’s another story,” said Lime Shoes.

Lower lip quivering, Ethan said, "The bench hit my head, daddy!"
(...) Ethan was at an age [4 years old] where nothing was his fault. None of the bumps or bruises he sustained were ever the result of his own roughhousing.

Beanie had pegged them as cosmopolitan, well-traveled, and gossipy. Beanie suspected they were the types to offer sympathy and compassion while secretly delighting in the failure of others.

"Don't think the worst unless you absolutely have to."