It was my Dad. He'd already made it upstairs. We all followed his voice and saw him staring, forlornly, into one of the bedrooms. It was a small room, painted seashell pink, with two lacquer-framed twin beds. He looked at all of us, exasperated, as if the tragedy of this was self-evident.

"On the website, they said it was two beds for four kids," Dad said, "I didn't realize they meant it would be in the same room."

"Maybe there's another bedroom," Mom said.

"Sure, Deb, I looked all over the house, but I bet you'll find the secret place I couldn't see," Dad snapped. Everyone looked at each other,...