The knuckles were enlarged by arthritis, and pale scars crossed several fingers.
That was all Kyle saw.
An elderly customer.
Unsteady hands.
A sale that might require patience.
“Sure,” Kyle said. “But we should probably make certain you can hold one without dropping it.”
He removed a compact handgun from the display case, checked it, and placed it on the rubber mat.
When Benjamin reached forward, Kyle pulled it back.
“Easy, sir.”
The word sir carried no respect.
“Let’s not rush.”
Benjamin lowered his hand.
“I have handled firearms before.”
“How long ago?” Mason asked. “Korean War?”
Noah laughed again.
Benjamin looked at each of them.
“I would like to speak with your manager.”
“The owner’s out,” Kyle answered. “You’re stuck with us.”
Benjamin nodded once.
Then he picked up his cap, walked toward the entrance, and sat in a metal folding chair beside the front window.
From the inside pocket of his coat, he removed a small leather notebook.
He opened it across one knee and began writing.
Kyle watched him for several seconds.
“What’s he doing?”
“Writing a complaint to the Department of Old People,” Noah said.
Mason chuckled.
Kyle spun one finger beside his temple.
Then all three returned to their conversation.
Benjamin continued writing.
He did not record their insults.
He wrote a list.
Replace damaged section of Dorothy’s back fence.
Call county sheriff about increased patrols on Hollow Creek Road.
Repair motion light near kitchen door.
Buy additional locks for garden shed.
Ask Samuel whether he still has Elaine’s pressure canner.
The final line remained unfinished.