Jayden looked from his mother to his grandfather and back again. He did not have the key to give. Everyone in the shop could see that. Tasha could see it. She took a step toward Leon and stopped, the way a person stops at the edge of ice she isn’t sure will hold.
Leon lifted the key between his thumb and his first finger, so that the stamped number caught the last of the window light.
“Your mother had one exactly like it.”
“Dad, he misunderstood.”
Leon did not take his eyes off her. Behind him the young man in his chair sat with half a fade and did not move a muscle. Quentin had set down his clippers. Even Odell had nothing to add. The question came up out of Leon from the same deep place the look had come from, and he let it.
“Why does your husband have the key to your mother’s old locker?”
“Dad…”