“May I eat with you?” Maddi trailed the length of the counter as Savannah tried to escape, following her the far end of the dining room.“It’s ... free country,” Savannah quipped, leading Maddi to a two-seater square table wedged in the corner. “You’ve made a nuisance of yourself here. You trying to get me fired?”Maddi’s voice took a jocular tone. “No, of course not. Don’t I buy something every time I come in?”“It’s not that.” Savannah tore off tiny squares of the sandwich and nibble between. I shrugged and left the room, heading into the kitchen for a beer. There were some snorting sounds, and then peals of laughter behind my back.I stormed off down into the basement to work on my project. Cellar is a more apt description of the space. It's squat and chilly and damp, but it's all mine. I have a workbench down there, with tools. I'm a woodworker, or a sculptor, or something. I don't have any artistic pretensions, I just need a title to define what I do. It involves a large hunk of. More

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