"I don’t know," Heather mused. "I feel like there’s a difference between liking to cook and having to cook." It wasn’t a chore she ever got a lot of joy from though there were guys at the station who loved nothing more than putting together a meal for the crew. She much preferred to wash dishes as her contribution.
Her face lit up with a delighted sort of surprise. “Whittling? I’ve never met anyone who whittles. What do you make?" It was tempting to ask whether that had anything to do with the tree earlier, but she refrained from bringing that up.