Chapter EightDarlene Norris lived in a house she rented on the southern edge of town. The house itself, a split-level ranch style, sat on two wooded acres where it wasn't unusual to see deer grazing in the back or even the occasional beaver waddling along the banks of the creek snaking through the property. The owner spent a great deal of time in Europe researching Medieval painters and paintings. According to Darlene, he taught Art History.
She'd hung brass chimes above the door and they tinkled in the light air bursting with summer smells. Newly mown grass. Pine. Buttercups and a hint of manure mingled freely. All marking the onset of a soft summer evening full of sudden expectation. Beneath the resonance of the chimes, I heard the deeper but hushed rustling of the leaves in the maple t
