music lessons (i forgot to capitalize, whoops!)

i didn't know what to think the first time i saw that women walking down those stairs. just like i didn't know what to think the when i was looking for one of my papers and stumbled upon my sister's compostition on the computer's hard drive.
i was too shocked, and too amazed both times.
i was shocked when i saw the women for the simple reason that she did not belong. our town is tiny. tiny. this women was not from our tiny town, she was not dressed like someone who even visited our town, and yet, there she was walking down the stairs.
she had heels that clicked on the wood of the floor, a white blouse with a grey matching skirt and blazer suite and thick black hair that was coiled and pinned at the back of her neck. there was something else about her that i will never forget; the determined look on her face as she descended the stairs and clicked arcross the floor toward me.
"may i help you miss?" she asked her voice was firm but not unpleasent, i wondered where she was from. she didn't sound foreign, but she had an acent i couldn't place.
"yes, ma'am, you can." she raised her chin slightly, this discruntled me. "i wondered, it's just that... i," it came out in a rush, "they say you know more about music than body else in the town, they said you use to be a musician-"
"who said that?" her voice was hard and quiet, dangerous, like a snake deciding where to strike.
"my cousin, Justin did, he helped you move in he said you were telling the men moving your things about your past, about the city, about preforming for thousands." there was a pause, i could feel my heart hammering in my chest, i looked at my toes.
"He's right." she said those two words and my gaze flew from my shoes, up, up, to meet her eyes. "i was a violinist, then a conductor, now a composer." i smiled, she frowned. "what do you want from me?" she asked.
"well, no one here knows about music except for what comes through their radios, and we got a computer last year, a brand new one-"
"what are you getting at, miss?" she asked,
"it's my sister," i say in a rush, "she's ten see found music making software on it, it is beautiful." she just stares at me.
"i'm not quite sure i understand miss," she says, "what did your sister do?"
"she wrote beautiful music without knowing how."