Three Days Before the Casket Was Delivered, My Son Asked Me to Sign a Document

“We have to let her sleep through the evening,” Victoria said, pulling me toward the open doorway.

I looked back over my shoulder at Chloe, who had already shut her eyes again.

Victoria closed the bedroom door behind us, the latch clicking in the silent hall.

I went down the stairs, rubbing the palm of my right hand where the casket key had left a deep red mark earlier.

Julian was waiting at the foot of the stairs, holding two ceramic mugs of hot tea.

“Come sit with me in the kitchen, Mom,” he said, turning toward the back of the house.