Emma bursts into my studio, startling me so that I almost drop the rod with molten glass on the end. “Chezz,” I scold her, clucking my tongue. “That was almost a very painful greeting.” I roll the rod back and forth with one hand, shaping the glass a bit and trying to urge it into the look I’d imagined. “What’s up, babe?”

She bites her lip and sits on a stool, but she’s fidgeting so badly I can tell she’s going to explode if I don’t talk to her soon. ...