Gramps talked constantly about playing the right way. Maybe moving on, and respecting his wishes—maybe leaving the past in the past—was a way for Lucas to do the right thing. Or maybe, just maybe, this was a picture Gramps had lost a long time ago, or one more thing he’d forgotten, and Lucas would be doing him a favor by showing it to him.

He’d have to think about that. In this case, he wasn’t sure what the right play was.

First he went downstairs and started to prepare their dinner salad, something he’d promised her he would do before they both left for school in the morning. He cleaned the lettuce, cut up some radishes and carrots and cucumbers. His mom liked to joke that he was on his way to one of those chef shows on television.

When she got home, he went upstairs, got the picture of Joe and Tommy off his desk, and brought it down for her to look at.

Her first reaction was to giggle, before looking at it closely.

“How did players manage to even run up and down the court in shorts that tight?” she said. “They looked like the basketball version of tighty whities.”

“I kind of thought the same thing,” he said. “But that’s kind of not why I’m showing you the picture.”

“Figured,” she said.

“Why would Dad stick an old picture of two guys named Joe and Tommy in one of his old Chip Hilton books?”

“No idea.”

“Is Gramps coming over for dinner tonight?” Lucas said.

“Probably not,” she said. “He always calls first and he hasn’t called today. You know him. Polite to a fault.”

They were seated at the table. She was waiting for water to boil so she could start cooking the pasta she was going to serve with chicken and broccoli. She picked up the photograph, really studying it now, frowning. Then she got up from the table suddenly and said she’d be right back.

When she came back, she was holding a picture of a young guy who looked like the Bisons’ player on the left. He had longer hair, slicked back, looking black in the black-and-white picture. But he resembled the player on the left.

A lot.

She placed that picture next to Lucas’s on the table.

“Did you find that one in the attic, too?” Lucas said.

“No,” she said. “It was in my room. In a little box of old pictures I keep in my closet that I haven’t looked at in a long time.”

“You know one of those guys?” Lucas said.

“I do,” Julia said. “The one on the left.”

“Who is he?”

“Gramps,” she said.

SIXTEEN

Okay,” Lucas said to his mom. “This makes no sense.”

“I can’t say for sure that it’s your grandfather,” she said. “But except for the hair, they could be twins.”