"Anyone working?"

An ancient man steps out from the back room. He's hunched over at a forty-five degree angle, is missing most of his hair and has wire-rimmed specs perched on the top of his head. He greets me in a clear, loud tone that belongs to a much younger, healthier man.

"Picker, you son of bitch. Good to see you son, where have you been, haven't seen you in a dog's year."

"Nice to see you too, Dutch."

Everyone calls him Dutch even though that isn't his real name. Decades ago, he purchased the Antique Emporium as an ongoing concern. In the front window, right there in gold lettering it says "Dutch Peabody — Proprietor". He never bothered to change the lettering.

"What have you got for me son?"

"Oh, a little something that I think that you'll like." I scanned the room softly as I approached the old man and the counter. Reached into my right hand pocket and removed one of the locks of lesser value. Placed it on the counter.

He pulls the glasses down from his head and peers at the lock for a nano-second. At this point, I'm just sticking a toe in the water.

"Fifteen bucks. Show the rest."

Man, nothing stupid about the old man. Dig out the rest and place them on the counter alongside their cousin.

He picks up the good one. Turns it over. Reaches down the counter and grabs a loupe. Examines it more closely. Slowly brings his head up and looks me dead in the eye over the rims of his glasses.

"Three hundred for the lot kid."

I scoop up my collection, turn around and start for the door. With a smile in my voice I wish him a nice day. Just as my fingers touch the brass door knob I hear an anxious…

"Wait just one damn minute. Get back here. Now!"

I had to smile. I turned around. He folded his thin arms across his chest asked, "What did you have in mind?"