He looked toward the strange roof.
“How did you know?”
For the first time, Martha smiled.
“I didn’t know anything you couldn’t have known.”
The mayor frowned.
“You all have the same library books,” she continued. “The same history. The same grandfathers who told stories about these mountains.”
She looked toward the ridge.
“You simply stopped listening.”
The mayor had no answer.
Martha turned back toward her tea.
“You thought the old ways were foolish because they were old. But the mountains don’t care how modern you think you are.”
