This became clear to John one day when the bell above the door gave its familiar ring.

John Baker looked up from his desk as two men entered the shop. The first filled the doorway before he had taken three steps inside: a broad-shouldered gentleman in a dark frock coat, polished boots, and a silver-headed cane carried more as a symbol than from necessity. His beard was trimmed with the precision of a man accustomed to being obeyed.

Behind him came a young Black man, perhaps twenty years old, slender enough that his coat hung loosely from his shoulders. He carried a leather portfolio beneath one arm and balanced a polished walnut box in the other. His eyes remained lowered, careful not to meet anyone’s gaze.

John recognized the white gentleman at once. “Mr. Groth,” he said, arranging his face into a practiced smile. “It has been some time.”

Noah Groth removed his gloves, one finger at a time. “Business has kept me occupied. Tobacco does not move itself.”

“I imagine it does not.”

Groth surveyed the showroom, taking in the polished walnut wardrobes and carved dining tables arranged beneath the afternoon light pouring through the storefront windows.

“I’ve come for a desk. Something worthy of my office. The old one has become…” He waved a dismissive hand. “…unsuitable.”

“I have several pieces that may interest you.”

John led him toward the rear of the showroom, where three writing desks stood side by side.

“This one is black walnut,” he said. “Hand-dovetailed. Eight drawers. Brass pulls.”

Groth scarcely glanced at it saying, “The larger one.”

John nodded toward the desk at the far end. “You mean the partner’s desk?” he said.

“Yes.”

The young man shifted the portfolio to his other arm.

Without turning, Groth snapped his fingers.

“Boy.”

The young man stepped forward.

“Set those down.”

He lowered both items carefully to the floor.

“No,” Groth said sharply. “Not there.”

The young man bent at once to retrieve them.

“I said beside the desk.” Groth sighed. “Must every instruction be repeated?”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Sorry does not improve your hearing.”

The apology had barely left the young man’s mouth when Groth struck the back of his shoulder with the head of his cane. It was not hard enough to injure him, but it was hard enough to humiliate.

The sharp tap echoed through the quiet showroom.

The young man stiffened but said nothing.

John felt his jaw tighten.

“There is no need for that,” he said quietly.

Groth turned.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The floor will not mind where the portfolio rests.”

For a moment, the room became unnaturally still.

The young man kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

Groth studied John with an expression that had nothing to do with furniture.

“I do not recall asking your opinion on how I manage my property.”

John measured his next words.

“I merely meant that he seemed to understand your instruction.”

Groth smiled, though there was no warmth in it.

“You seem unusually concerned.”

“I dislike unnecessary harshness.”

“So I have noticed.”

Silence settled between them.

Groth moved slowly around the desk, running a gloved hand over its polished surface.

“I’ve heard things lately.”

John said nothing.

“Richmond grows smaller by the day. Men talk.”

“They always have.”

“They say some merchants have forgotten where their loyalties ought to rest.”

John met his eyes.

“My loyalty is to conducting honest business.”

Groth gave a low chuckle.

“A careful answer.”

He turned toward the windows. Pedestrians moved along Broad Street, their figures drifting through the shifting afternoon light.

“Virginia will not sit on the fence forever, Mr. Baker. The Union is coming apart by the week. When our state finally decides where it belongs, every man in Richmond will have to decide as well.”

“I suppose many difficult decisions lie ahead.”

“Difficult only for some.”

Groth looked back at the young man.

“Bring me the measurements.”

The young man opened the portfolio at once and produced a folded sheet marked with the dimensions of the office.

John accepted it.

“I can have the desk delivered within ten days.”

“See that you do.”

Groth reached for his gloves.

As they crossed the showroom, the young man lifted the walnut box once more, taking care not to let it brush against the displays.

Groth stopped with one hand on the brass door handle.

Without looking back, he said, “I have always preferred buying from Virginians.”

The words lingered in the room after he spoke them.

“I should hate to discover I had been mistaken.”

The young man set the walnut box down and still did not raise his eyes. He could dislike a man like Groth, anyone could, but disliking was all he was allowed. John could stand in his own showroom and feel the harshness and still meet a customer’s eye. The young man could only look at the floor.

The bell rang softly as the door closed behind them.

Only then did John release the breath he had been holding.