Summers: ‘–Please, don’t call me ma’am.’ Pause. Interviewer: ‘Sorry, Mrs. Summers. I want you to feel comfortable. I’m not here to inter...ogate you. I’m here to help you tell your story exactly the way it happened.’ Mrs. Summers: ‘I see.’ A muffled noise, followed by the sound of a lighter being used. Mrs. Summers: ‘So, what was your question? Without beating around the bush this time.’ Interviewer: ‘Well… We talked to your husband recently and–‘ Mrs. Summers: ‘–Why? He has nothing to do with. She hated mornings. How she could have grown up on a family farm and never become accustomed to morning chores had always been a humorous mystery to the family. Waking up at 6:30 for her job in the city was bliss compared to this. Ben had inherited the farm when her father died three years ago, and now ran it with his wife. He hired help each summer, mostly high school kids looking to pick up a few extra hours to supplement their tourism-oriented summer jobs in the harbor, but the local high. More

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