My hands fall to my side in disbelief - that doesn't seem possible. "That's not the worst part," Larissa cries. But the food is still under the heater, so I think he gave the customer." "I told Tom to handle the takeout order because I was busy. My gaze scans the small mountain of paper bags on the floor. Our parents' fights have gotten so bad, when Mom's on shift, we've taken to hiding Grandma's ashes in a. And it's her restaurant we have to honor her." To which Dad loves to shout back, "She's not next to the food. "We can't have your dead mother on a shelf next to the food. "It's a public health violation," Mom loves to snap at Dad. Most of our problems involve Grandma Grace, or rather her ashes. With a smash of her fist, she crunches the last bag left on the counter, but her face fills with the same panicked expression as when her out-of-control cartwheel broke a water main in our living room. Larissa tosses one pre-opened brown bag to the floor after another. Lurching forward, I follow the No's around the corner to the counter with all the takeout supplies. Or maybe she's lying down in the cooler with her feet propped up on a box of ground beef again. "Larissa?" I call out, my heart rate picking up at the thought of my very pregnant sister passed out on the floor somewhere. There's only Tom, the new hire, washing dishes in the corner. "Two barbecue back ribs and one house - " With a practiced bump of my hip, the door to the kitchen swings open, and I call out the order for table seven.
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