As she starts up, I pause at the landing and look back. Dave sits on the sofa, watching us, but my parents have turned their attention back to the television, so I give a little nod and mouth the words, “Come on.”
Dave doesn’t need to be asked twice. Stretching as he stands, he asks, “You’re sure there’s room for me upstairs, Mrs. Jansen?”
“We remodeled it a few years back,” my mother tells him. “It’s our study now, but there’s a full-size futon Bobby’s pulled out and the chair opens into a twin bed. Plenty of places to sleep. Go on up and take a look.”