Then Percy studied the picture of Sammy. “Who is that?” Hazel didn’t understand why he looked so spooked. “That’s…that’s Sammy. He was my—uh—friend from New Orleans.” She forced herself not to look at Frank. “I’ve seen him before,” Percy said. “You couldn’t have,” Hazel said. “That was in 1941. He’s…he’s probably dead now.” Percy frowned. “I guess. Still…” He shook his head, like the thought was too uncomfortable.
