Mia bit her lip, desperately trying to listen to the conversation the men were having in the other room.
It was a futile endeavor, since the conversation in the kitchen was more than enough to keep her mind occupied.
"Why do you think the name sounds familiar to you?" Her mother was asking.
"I'm not sure. Uncle Trace said he knew him, but Martin sounds a little familiar to me, too. I just can't place it. It's like the memory is foggy." Mia's shoulders sagged, and she commenced washing dishes even though the sound of sloshing water would make it even harder to listen to what was being said in the next room.
"What memories do you have from when you were young?" Anaisa looked at her niece as she stepped up to the sink. "From back when I first came into the family."
"I remember you coming to the farm the first time," Mia smiled, then frowned. "Was Martin there?"
"No," Anaisa shook her head. "What else can you think of?"
