To my surprise, the coffee shop was running at over half capacity. For a moment, I thought, Must be good coffee. Then I looked around at the customers, most of whom looked as if their current seat was the closest thing they had to a permanent residence. Not so much good coffee, then, as free refills, an unusually cold day and a management policy that didn’t discourage loitering.

The shop looked better inside than out. Still shabby, but clean. A pregnant server made the rounds with a coffeepot in one hand and a dishrag in the other, relentlessly hunting for half-filled cups and dirty tables. Someone was baking in the back, the sweet smell of banana muffins overpowering the faint stink of unwashed bodies.

Jack nudged me toward a late-middle-aged man sitting alone near the rear of the shop. Presumably Saul. He had the newspaper spread across his table, doing the daily crossword as he nursed a black coffee.

Balding with a fringe of white hair, Saul wore a frayed button-down shirt that had been through the laundry cycle a few too many times. Maybe he was dressing down to fit in with the other clientele, but something about his ensemble—right down to the cheap watch and worn loafers—looked more lived-in than put-on. His sallow complexion didn’t speak to many sun-drenched retirement getaways, nor did the frown lines etched into the corners of his mouth.

When Jack said Saul had retired, I don’t know what I expected, but it sure wasn’t this. The man had spent his life working a job that paid more than a surgeon’s salary.

As we approached the table, Saul looked up from his paper. His gaze went to Jack first and his frown lines rearranged themselves into a smile. He rose, hand extended. Then he saw me. He looked between Jack and me, as if measuring the distance between us. Then he leaned slightly to the side, to look past me. Jack walked over and clasped Saul’s hand, which he still held out in forgotten welcome.

“Saul. This is Dee.”

Saul snuck another peek behind me, as if double-checking to make sure I was really the person Jack was introducing. The frown lines reappeared. Deepened to fissures.

“Have you lost your mind?” Saul hissed. “What the hell are you doing, bringing a…? Goddamn it, Jack. I don’t believe this.”

“I told you I was bringing someone,” Jack said.

“A partner,” Saul said. “A work partner, not a play partner.”

“Play?” Jack looked at me, then back at Saul. “Fuck. I wouldn’t bring—Dee’s—We’re working together.”

Saul looked from me to Jack, then shook his head.

“You’re getting old, Jack,” he said. “Of all people. Jesus.”

He slapped a five on the table and walked out.

“Wait here,” Jack said to me. “I’ll bring him back.”