CHAPTER
SEVEN
After my meeting with Emma, I go to see Nora Summers.
Nora Summers lives a half-mile from the Wesley house in Lake Forest, in a yellow-framed colonial set back from the street by a long path and a garden in the front. Approaching the house, I can see through a stand of flowering azaleas to the other side, where a grass field littered with volunteer daisies, dandelion, and sorrel, stretches down to a far fence overtaken by honeysuckle vines.
A trim brown-haired woman opens the door. I already know from Linda Edwards that Nora and she have been friends since early childhood, which would place Nora in her mid-forties. When I identify myself, she gestures me inside. The first thing I notice about her are piercing blue eyes, set deep into her face. She’s wearing a thin Lycra r
