“It’s downstairs.”
Everyone turned.
“I’ve worked here nine years,” she said. “There’s an old chair in the basement under plastic. Derek wanted it thrown out. Mateo said it was solid and kept it.”
Samuel looked at Mateo.
Mateo shrugged. “Good chairs are expensive.”
For the first time, Samuel laughed.
The sound transformed his face.
“Can you bring it up?”
Twenty minutes later, two employees carried a heavy green salon chair into the room.
The brass footrest was tarnished. The leather was cracked at one corner.
Samuel touched the back as though greeting someone.
“My wife bought this before we had enough money for the second shampoo sink.”
Mateo wiped the seat.
“You still want the haircut?”
Samuel looked at him.
“Yes.”
The legal argument had not changed that.
Mateo draped a cape around Samuel’s shoulders.
The receptionist stood near the counter, unsure where to look.
Samuel caught her eye in the mirror.
“What’s your name?”
“Brittany.”
“Brittany, I am not going to make you stand there and watch as punishment.”
Tears appeared in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“I believe you are sorry now.”
She flinched.
Samuel continued, still calm. “What matters is whether you would be sorry if the envelope had contained nothing.”
Brittany looked down.
There was no good answer.
