“Will she lose her stamp over it?”

“The state has her logbook now.

That’s their business, not yours.”

Martha wrote her name slowly, then smoothed her linen apron across her lap.

Brandon stood by the side door with his coat folded over one arm.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“You’re all going to find out what it costs to keep that place standing,” he said.

Nobody answered him.