I returned to the kitchen blowing into cupped hands. “We had a delivery?” “First thing this morning.” Martin didn’t look up. “But I thought we had enough meat?” “We do.” The cleaver came down on the fresh steak with a purposeful thud. “It was spur of the  moment; compulsive you might even say.” Studying the sheet of paper pinned to the corkboard — “And you’ve changed the menu?” “Had…