BEHIND THE WHEEL OF Dad’s hearse, I read the address May scribbled down for me on the Post-it note.
It tells me to head to 16 Pipeline Road.
Sounds like a country address to me, if ever there was one.
I pick up my smart phone, type the address into the Google search engine, thumb send. A map appears. It says, “Get Directions.” I do it. Thank God for GPS and digital technology. Otherwise, I might actually have to think for myself or, worse yet, stop at a gas station and ask for directions from a real live human being.
I turn the big eight-cylinder engine over, listen to it purr. Glancing into the driver’s side-view mirror, I determine the coast is clear and drive out onto the gravel-covered road, heading in the direction of Walls’s spread. Over my right s
