She shakes his hand. It’s warm and smooth, and has probably never seen any form of manual labor, save for shuffling papers. Most of the men around here have rough hands—hands that can change oil on a car, pound a nail, or even dig a ditch.
They pass by a few farmhouses and a field of two-foot tall corn stalks before coming upon a grove of dense woods.
As the GPS soon tells him to take a left here, then another right, Megan punches the web browser app on her phone. She searches for Bart Simms in Minneapolis. Due to their remote location—she only has one bar of signal—it takes several seconds before Google displays its results.