“I know,” he said.

“Anyway,” I said with a wave toward the black SUV near the side door, “Syd’s in there, so…”

“Is he right in the same room?”

“I don’t know. But we’ll have to start with cleaning anyway,” I said, buying some time.

We started in the chapel. I got out the polish and we worked on the pews until everything gleamed and the place smelled lemony fresh. I even got down on the floor to look for any stray tissues from the last funeral. There weren’t any on the floor, but I did find one tucked into the corner of a pew. You have to check everywhere.

We were almost done when Dad came in. His hair was slightly damp and he had on a different suit. He still looked tired though. “Hey, kids,” he said. “Looks and smells good in here—great job. Syd’s off, but I’ll be in the quiet room if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I said.

Oren gave me a look after Dad had left, but I shook my head and returned to my work.

When we were done in the chapel, I went into the supply room to get paper towels. The supply room where the fridge is.

“Is she…” Oren whispered behind me, nearly scaring me out of my skin.

“Gah!” I exclaimed, whirling around to face him. “What are you doing?”

He nodded toward the giant stainless-steel fridge. “Is she in there?”

“I think so,” I said, reaching for a package of paper towels. “But come on. We should fill up the holders in the bathrooms.”

“I want to see,” Oren said, determined.

“My dad is in the next room!” I whispered. “We can’t!”

Just then I heard a noise. I tilted my head to listen.

I heard it again. It was my dad’s super-loud snore coming from down the hall. Oren’s eyebrows went up and he came fully into the room, the door closing behind him with a gentle snick. He went past me to go right up to the fridge door. “Come on.”

I glanced toward the door to the hall, my heart beginning to race. “We shouldn’t.”

“Just a peek before your dad wakes up.”

He put his hand on the fridge’s big door handle.

“Wait!” I said, taking the few steps to stand beside him.

“What?” he said.

“You were scared to even look in the casket,” I said. “What makes you think you’re ready to see a real live… er… dead person?”

He opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again and said, “I don’t know. I just want to.”

“Because you didn’t get to see your parents?” I asked softly.

He took a gaspy breath, like he hadn’t expected my question and it had punched him in the gut. He swallowed hard. “Maybe.”

“Do you think it will make you feel better? About them being gone, I mean?”

I watched as his face crumpled in slow motion. I didn’t have to ask him if he needed a hug. I just threw my arms around him and held on tight while he cried. I patted his back and made shushing noises into his ear, but he just kept on crying for what felt like forever.