Inside were several folded bills, a few photographs, and a yellowed piece of paper.
He pulled out fifteen dollars.
"This is what I can offer."
Marcus held up his hand.
"Keep it."
Arthur frowned.
"I told you I don't take something for nothing."
"And I told you not to worry."
"Young man, please."
Marcus looked at him.
Then he accepted a single dollar.
"All right," he said. "Now we're even."
Arthur laughed.
"A dollar for a haircut like this?"
"Friends and family discount."
Arthur looked up sharply.
"Family?"
Marcus shrugged.
"You remind me of my grandfather."
The old man folded the remaining bills and returned them to his wallet.
His fingers lingered on one of the photographs.
Marcus noticed.
"Your wife?"
Arthur nodded.
He showed him the picture.
It was old and faded, taken decades earlier.
A young Black woman stood beside a smiling man in front of a modest storefront.
The woman wore a yellow dress.
The man wore a white barber's coat.
Above them hung a hand-painted wooden sign.
MONARCH BARBER SHOP.
Marcus leaned closer.
"Wait a second."
Arthur slipped the photograph back into his wallet.
"What is it?"
"That sign."
Marcus glanced toward the gold emblem on the wall.
"The old shop had the same name?"
Arthur studied him.
"Yes, son."
"That's a coincidence."
"Maybe."
But Arthur's smile suggested otherwise.
Before Marcus could ask another question, the front door opened.
Richard Halston entered wearing a charcoal suit, polished leather shoes, and an expression of barely concealed irritation.
He was followed by a younger man carrying a tablet.
Vanessa immediately hurried toward them.
"Richard, thank goodness."
Richard looked across the shop.
His eyes landed on Arthur.
Then Marcus.
Then the haircut cape draped across the chair.
"So," Richard said coldly, "this is the situation."
Marcus stepped forward.
"If you're here about me, I'd like to explain."
Richard raised a hand.
"I've already heard enough."
Vanessa crossed her arms triumphantly.
"He completely ignored my instructions."
Richard looked at Arthur.
"Sir, I'm going to need you to leave."
Arthur stood slowly.
"May I ask why?"
"Because this is a private business."
"I understand that."
"And we reserve the right to enforce our service policies."
Arthur nodded.
"Of course."
Richard grew impatient.
"Then there's nothing more to discuss."
Arthur glanced around the shop.
He studied the mirrors, the chairs, the counter.
Then he looked at Richard.
"Do you own this place?"
Richard straightened his jacket.
"I oversee operations for the company."
"That's not what I asked."
Vanessa scoffed.
"Sir, you need to stop wasting everyone's time."
Arthur ignored her.
He kept looking at Richard.
"Do you own this barbershop?"
Richard hesitated.
"No. The business is held by a private company."
Arthur nodded again.
"And who owns that company?"
Richard's expression hardened.
"That information is not relevant to you."
"Perhaps it is."
Marcus sensed something changing.
Arthur no longer looked like the nervous elderly customer who had entered with a handful of coins.
His shoulders were still slightly stooped.
His clothes were still worn.
But there was a new steadiness in his voice.
Richard looked toward Vanessa.
"Get security if he refuses to leave."
Vanessa reached for the desk phone.
Arthur quietly raised one hand.
"Before you do that, Mr. Halston, I'd like you to answer one question."
Richard froze.
Arthur had used his surname.
"I don't recall introducing myself."
"You didn't."
"Then how do you know my name?"
Arthur reached inside his jacket.
He removed a small cream-colored envelope.
Its edges were worn, and one corner had been bent from being carried in a pocket.
He placed it on the reception counter.
Richard stared at it.
"What is that?"
Arthur rested one hand on the marble.
"A surprise."
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
"We don't have time for games."
Arthur looked at her.
"No, ma'am. We certainly don't."
Then he turned back to Richard.
"Open it."
Richard hesitated.
Marcus stood nearby, trying to understand what was happening.
The shop had become silent.
Even the customers seemed afraid to move.
Richard opened the envelope.
Inside was a business card and a folded letter.
His expression changed as he read the name printed on the card.
He unfolded the letter.
His eyes moved quickly across the first paragraph.
Then he read it again.
The color began draining from his face.
Vanessa leaned toward him.
"What?"
Richard did not answer.
Arthur waited.
Finally, Richard looked up.
"Mr. Bennett?"
Arthur nodded.
"That's right."
Richard swallowed.
"I... I wasn't aware you were visiting today."
"I gathered that."
Vanessa looked between them.
"Who is he?"
Richard said nothing.
Arthur turned toward the gold emblem on the wall.
"Beautiful sign," he said.
His voice was almost conversational.
"Very expensive, I imagine."
Marcus glanced at it.
The stylized letter M had been installed during the shop's most recent renovation.
Arthur continued.
"Forty-six years ago, my wife and I painted our first sign by hand. Took us three nights."
Vanessa frowned.
"What are you talking about?"
Arthur looked directly at her.