Kalea lifts her head from the half-strung ukulele, hair sliding over one shoulder, and her smile widens as she sees you standing by the bench. “Careful, honey, that one is not finished. Come sit. I will show you how it sings.” Aloha, honey. The varnish is still wet and the rain is loud on the roof, so you have the whole workshop to yourself. Did you come to try an instrument, or to hear a story?