“He’ll do that,” Marge agreed. She nodded toward the set. “What’s the score?”

“Four to four now, bottom of the eighth. Braves are coming back.”

“Have they brought in their relief pitcher?”

“In the seventh inning.”

“Who is it?”

My dad mentioned a name I didn’t recognize. “That’s a good choice,” Marge noted. “I really like his slider but his changeup is good, too. How’s he doing so far?”

“Lot of pitches. He’s having to work it.”

“Do you remember the days when we had Maddux, Smoltz, and Glavine?”

“Who doesn’t? That was one of the best rotations ever, but this year…”

“Yeah, I know. Down year. But at least they’re not the Cubs.”

“Can you imagine? Over a hundred years since they’ve won it all. Makes the Curse of the Bambino seem ridiculous, especially considering the last few years.”

“Who do you think will win it all?”

“I don’t care, as long as it’s not the Yankees.”

“I’m thinking the Mets might pull it off.”

“As good a guess as any,” he agreed. “They’re playing good ball. Royals, too, and they’ve got some serious offense this year.”

As he answered, Marge sent a lazy wink in my direction.

Eventually, Marge and I joined Liz on the back porch. From the living room, sounds of the game drifted outside.

“I was never a baseball fan,” I said to my sister. “I ran track in high school.”

“And now you’re jogging with the mamas. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you let your raw athleticism go to seed.”

I turned toward Liz. “Does she talk to you like this?”

“No,” Liz answered. “If she does, she knows I won’t feed her. Besides, you’re an easy target.”

“I was just trying to say that I don’t think Dad would have wanted to talk to me, even if I did know as much about baseball as you do.”

“Don’t feel bad about it,” Marge shrugged. “You might not know baseball, but I’m sure Dad can’t name every Barbie accessory either, so you’ve got that going for you.”

“That makes me feel so much better.”

“Oh, don’t be so thin-skinned. Dad won’t talk to me when he’s in the garage. That’s your place, not mine.”

“Really?”

“Why do you think I bothered learning anything about the Braves? He probably wouldn’t talk to me at all unless he was asking me to pass the mashed potatoes while we were eating.”

“Do you think that he and Mom talk the way they used to?”

“After almost fifty years? I doubt it. There’s probably not much left to talk about. But hey – it clearly works for them.”

“Daddy!” I heard from the kitchen, and I saw London was skipping in my direction. She was wearing a dress that could have been worn on the red carpet and holding a soft lunch box emblazoned with an image of Barbie. Another item to add to my vast knowledge of Barbie accessories, Marge was no doubt thinking. “Look what I got!” London said, raising it for me to see. “It fits into my Barbie backpack, too!”

“That’s great, sweetheart. It’s really pretty.”

She hugged the three of us while we all took turns admiring her lunch box.

“Are you excited about school?” Marge asked.

London nodded. “I start Tuesday.”

“I know,” Marge said. “Your dad told me. He said that you met your teacher, too.”

“Her name is Mrs. Brinson,” London said. “She’s really nice. She said that I might be able to bring Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles to show-and-tell.”

“That would be great,” Marge said. “I’m sure the other kids will love them. Where are they now? Did you bring them?”

“No. They’re at home. Mommy said it was too hot to leave them in the car while we were shopping.”

“She’s probably right. It’s pretty hot today.”

“Are you hungry?” I asked London.

“Mommy and I had lunch not too long ago.”

So that’s where you were. “Did you see Nana in the kitchen?”

“She says we’re going to make pudding-in-a-cloud in a couple of minutes. It’s a snack, though, so it won’t ruin my dinner. And then we’re going to plant some flowers.”

“That sounds fun. How about Papa?”

“I sat in his lap for a little while. His whiskers were itchy when he kissed me. He liked my lunch box, too.”

“I’ll bet he did. Did you watch the game with him?”

“Not really. We talked about Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles and he told me that he missed them. And then we talked about school and my bike, and he said he wanted to watch me ride it sometime. Then he told me that when he was little, he used to ride his bike all the time. Once, he said he rode it all the way to Lake Norman and back.”

“That’s a long way,” I said, not doubting it for a minute. It sounded like something my dad would have done. Just then, Vivian emerged from the house.

I stood and gave my wife a kiss; Marge and Liz offered hugs before taking their seats again. Vivian sat down, too.

Vivian straightened London’s dress. “I think Nana’s waiting for your help in the kitchen, sweetie.”