AFTER MAKING HER WAY back home, Myrtle fixed a pimento cheese sandwich for lunch. She’d just finished when the phone rang. It was a solemn Connor Walker calling, wanting to hear about yesterday morning. She recounted the day, avoiding her usual melodramatic retelling, and asked if there was anything she could do to help him out.
“Actually, I did want to ask you a favor. Could you go in her closet and pick out an outfit for Mother to be buried in? I don’t have a clue what she’d have wanted. And I know she would have wanted things perfect.”
“Your mother certainly would have. Which reminds me, you might like Jo to clean your mother’s house a little before your visitation there tomorrow. Your mom kept a perfect house, but she was due for her regular cleaning. Want me to let Jo in to vacuum a
