Before I had even finished, a coworker protested, "Come on, Nora, the food at your family's place is so good!"I didn't answer.My family's restaurant was small, but it was spotless.My parents grew all the vegetables themselves.They bought the beef and fish only from trusted suppliers.Even the spices had to be certified organic.In my last life, to take the company's order, I had my parents drop several long-standing regulars.We started stocking up two months ahead and were run off our feet.This time, I refused to put my family through that again.Before the coworker could press me further, Fiona cut in, "What is this? Three dishes and she has the nerve to charge eight dollars? Nora, do you think this company belongs to your family? Exactly how big a cut are you taking?"She rattled the menu aggressively."Ratatouille, prawns in wine, char-grilled pork neck. Aren't those all ordinary dishes? A tray of shrimp costs only a few dollars at the grocery store, and you charge eight dolla
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