“When’s the funeral?” I asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” she said as she glanced up toward the ceiling. “Your dad’s in the shower right now, but he and Syd will have to go to the care home to pick her up. I’ll be meeting with the family later this morning, and the tahara will probably be tonight.” She paused. “Oh, darn it. That means I’m going to have miss book club again. Oh well. I hadn’t finished the book anyway. Let Nate know when he wakes up that we’ll need him to update the website as soon as we have details.”

“I will,” I said. “I guess this means Dad won’t be taking Oren and me to the movie later?”

“Probably not, Evie,” she said. “I’m sorry. We all have to make sacrifices sometimes.”

“It’s okay.” I was disappointed, but it wasn’t like my parents bailed on stuff for no reason. It was part of the job. If I was going to be a funeral director, I had to get used to that. “We’ll figure out something else to do.”

She was quiet as I poured my juice. Too quiet.

Once my glass was full, I looked up at her. “What?”

“Just—”

I finished her sentence for her. “Don’t talk his ear off. I know, Mom.”

“It’s not that,” she said. “Well, that’s part of it. But just remember, it’s only been a short time since the funeral. Don’t expect too much from him, okay?”

I snorted. “If you mean don’t expect him to talk my ear off, I won’t.”

“What I mean,” she said, her voice a little stern, “is don’t expect him to be eager to play or do everything you want to do. Take it easy on him.”

The movie would have been perfect, but…

“Or…you could…hmm.” She looked up at the ceiling again. “Why don’t you see if he wants to try paper quilling? Or you could get out Nate’s easel and paints. Doing something like that might make him feel better. A lot of therapists use art to help grieving kids express themselves and sort through all the difficult feelings.”

I knew that already. But even if it was a good idea, there was still a big problem.

“Mom, his right arm is in a cast, and he could barely eat with his left hand last night. He won’t be able to paint.” And he probably thinks quilling is ridiculous.

“Oh,” she said, cringing. “You’re right. I forgot about that. Well, whatever you do, just maybe let him decide. It’s possible he’ll just want to watch TV and chill out all day. That’s all right too.”

“Okay,” I said, returning the juice to the fridge.

“Just…” she said and then stopped.

Now what?

“You know…sometimes you can get…persistent.”

“I get it, Mom,” I said, trying not to get mad. “I’m chatty and bossy!”

“Knowing is half the battle,” my brother said as he shuffled into the kitchen.

“Shut up,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “Jerk.” “Okay, you two,” Mom scolded. “I haven’t even finished my coffee.” She reached for her mug. “What are you even doing up, Nate?”