On the appointed day, he and Ben drove to Tiverton, a wealthy little town on Narragansett Bay notable for its meandering stone walls, water views and gracious homes.

Ben was the perfect person for this day, with his implacable sense of calm. Josh could’ve invited Radley, who’d come over the other night to watch a movie, but he had the feeling Radley would be too chatty. He could’ve asked Sarah or Jen, but . . . no. It might’ve been too emotional for them.

Josh had been careful when he booked the appointment, which he did simply by calling her 401 area code number (another good sign . . . it wasn’t an 877 or a 900 number). He blocked his own number before dialing so she couldn’t look him up that way. He gave his name as Joshua—no last name, in case she was the Googling type, picked a time, and that was it.

Being a man of science, he read up on mediums. Most would speak in generalities and watch you for clues. At best, Josh thought, they were simply very empathetic and good at reading people, hoping to give comfort. At worst, they preyed on the grieving by asking leading questions, then parroting back the information. “Was water significant to your mother? She’s showing me water.” Honestly. Who didn’t have some connection with water? People were 72 percent water on average. Everyone had some beach, river, pond, creek, salt marsh they loved. And then the bereft person would say, “Yes! We went to the beach when I was little!” and the psychic would say, “Yes, that’s exactly what she’s showing me.”

Not exactly proof of the afterlife.

He was only doing this for Lauren. She’d thought it would be fun. He wasn’t convinced.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the drive twisted through farmland laced with rock walls. He and Ben didn’t say much for most of the drive, which was their way . . . only speaking to observe something especially interesting. The five turkey vultures eating a dead raccoon, for example.

“Poor vultures,” Ben said. “They do us a service by eating carrion but get no credit.”

“True,” said Josh. There was a metaphor in there somewhere, but his brain was buzzing too much to find it.

He glanced at the clock. “We’re gonna be way too early,” he said.

“Should we stop at Dunkin’?”

“Okay. Yeah.” Being in Rhode Island, where there were more Dunkins per person than anywhere in the world, it wasn’t hard to find one. Josh pulled into the parking lot. “What would you like?”

“An iced coffee. Thanks, son.”