Darren looked up and recognized Marcus at once. His hair was seasoned with considerably more salt than pepper these days, but he still favored wrinkled Hawaiian shirts, Wranglers, and boots worn so thin, Darren could count his toes through the honey-colored leather. He had colorful strips of kente tied around his wrists like bracelets, and he had a pencil tucked for easy access in the tight curls of his Afro. He nodded toward the photo in Darren’s hand, which did in fact have a yellow sticker, and said again, “Those go for fifty.”

“Dollars?” Darren said, voice cracking at the idea of it.

“Cents,” Marcus clarified. “Most people come in here for the book.”

He motioned Darren toward a clearly self-published tome with a red cover. The title was in black and green letters. TRUTH AND TREASURES: THE REAL JEFFERSON, TEXAS, BY MARCUS L. ALDRICH, PHD. Besides the surplus stock in the box, there were a few copies on the table next to the photo collection. Darren picked one up, handed it across the table to Marcus, and then added, “I’ll take this too.” He lifted the picture of the ghost. “Can’t beat fifty cents,” he said, trying to make light of the situation, his reason for purchasing a photo of an antebellum white woman. Marcus nodded, pausing to take in Darren’s badge and hat before ringing up the sale. This was an all-cash type place, and as Darren reached for his wallet to pay, Marcus stared at his face, trying to place him.

Playfully, Darren said, “Maybe you could sign it to my uncle Clayton.”

Marcus broke out into a grin so wide that Darren could see his tobacco-stained teeth, the halo of brown in his smile. “I thought that was you, Darren.”

He came from around the table and gave Darren a hug, chuckling at the improbability of the whole thing, running into him here in Jefferson. “Last I saw you, you was tagging along when Clayton helped me move out of my ex-wife’s place.”

“That’s right.” Darren smiled at the memory, one of the few times that he and Clayton went on an adventure alone, just the two of them.

“And he was in my face about wasting my good ol’ Prairie View education on this here—”

“Pop’s got a lot of ideas about what he thinks people should be doing with their lives.” Wasn’t he always meddling in Darren’s? In his marriage, for sure.

“You ain’t got to tell me the sky is blue.” Marcus looked around his tiny shop, perhaps seeing it through Darren’s eyes and therefore Clayton’s. “I’m happy here, man. Shit is quiet. The divorce paid for this here shop. I sell my book, write a little something else on the side, fish on the lake when I feel like it.”