Margaret Walked Away From Scottsdale With a Blue Mug and Eighty-Nine Million Dollars
“Would you be free for some custom woodwork this week?” I asked.
He laid his pencil down.
“That depends on the job,” he said.
“I’m in between framing jobs till Friday morning.”
“I’ve got a wide kitchen window that looks out on a pecan tree,” I said.
“I need an oak breakfast nook built right under the window frame, with a bench seat that lifts on hinges.”
He drew a yellow pad toward him.
“What’s the address?”