Without a word Oren turned and walked toward the men’s room. For some reason, we all watched him go. He pushed open the door and then disappeared.

Mr. Silver sighed. “He hasn’t said a word since the accident.”

“Oh?” Dad said.

Mr. Silver shook his head. “They checked him out—it’s nothing physical. And what little sleep he did get last night—well, he had nightmares.” He glanced at me before adding, “He did…vocalize then, so it’s not that he can’t speak.”

I wondered if “vocalize” really meant scream, but it wouldn’t be right to ask.

“Give him time,” Mom said. “He’s still in shock. It will take a while for him to sort out his feelings.”

“He’s a good kid,” Mr. Silver said, nodding. “I’m his guardian now. It’s what my sister wanted, but…of course we never thought…this has…it’s all…it’s been… wow.” He took a long breath. “My sister is…was…” His face crumpled, and he began to sob. Like, not just a few tears, but I mean really sob.

This happens a lot at the funeral home. It’s why we buy tissues by the case.

I had to look away. Thinking about cases of tissues seemed ridiculous when people who had been utterly devastated were standing right in front of you.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom put an arm around Mr. Silver. She muttered comforting things to him as she guided him toward the office.

“We’ll give them a minute,” Dad said. “You okay?”

It took me a second to realize he was talking to me. It was then that I noticed my own eyes had filled with tears. “Yes,” I squeaked out before I cleared my throat. “It’s so sad. How do you do this every day, Dad? Isn’t it hard?”

He sighed. “It is hard,” he said. “Especially when it’s about kids and people being taken from us far too soon. While you learn to deal with grief—recognizing it and accepting it—no matter how many years you do this job, you are never immune. But being there for people in their time of need is an honor. It’s a mitzvah to help families this way.”

I’d heard him say that before about the mitzvah—a good deed—but it was weirdly comforting to know that sometimes it was hard for him too.

“Still want to work here when you grow up?”

It was like he’d been reading my mind. I nodded. “I think so.”

Dad reached out and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. “You’ve got lots of time to decide for sure,” he said gently. “We don’t expect you to join the family business, Evie.”

But I already had decided. Dad didn’t know the big reason why, but I’d made up my mind almost a year ago.

“Like, right now your brother says he wants to get into computers or game design, and that’s fine,” Dad continued. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t change his mind next year. Your mom and I will support you both 100 percent in whatever career path you choose. We do appreciate you helping us out so much though.”