The phone rang twice.“Mister Poon’s, is this take out or delivery?” asked a sweet, slightly accented Asian voice.“Hey, Iris. It’s neither. I...would like to speak to your dad.”“Joshua!” Iris squealed. “He’s right here, but you have to talk to me again when you guys finish.”I promised and she gave the phone to my friend Lee Poon, the owner of Mister Poon’s Asian Buffet. Lee and I became friends when he hired me to design the mechanicals for his new restaurant. Lee Poon was a savvy businessman, but. ’ Dipping his knife into the butter, he spread it, methodically, across one side of his toast. Gracie remained silent, gazing out the window. ‘You know Grace,’ he said, through his mouthful of toast, ‘why don’t we?’ Turning back to face him again, she hesitated. ‘Tom, you know we can’t…’ her voice trailed off. They’d been through this before. ‘C’mon Grace, we haven’t seem them in years, it’ll be fun!’ Looking pained, she sighed. Reaching across the table, he took her small hands in his. More

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