“I’ve got a headache,” Bryan said. “I’m going to take a Tylenol and lie down for an hour before I start home.”
“Bry, why don’t you stay the night?” Jefferson ran his palm over the filial on the newel post. “Why don’t we all stay the night? God knows the last thing any of us needs is an accident.”
“I think I will. Johanna won’t ca-mind.” She’d used the excuse of needing to be home for phone calls from her children to avoid coming out to Shadow Brook. “Right now I’m good for nothing. Someone wake me for dinner,” Bryan called over his shoulder.
“Works for me.” Gregor looked around. “I’ll go help Olive in the kitchen.”
“It’s a good thing we all have spare clothes here.” I turned to my son. “Quinton?”
“There’s nowhere I have to be. I’m done wandering, Mother,” he told me as he looped his arm through mine and we began walking up the stairs. “I sent in my application to Harvard, and I’ll start work on my master’s in January.”