"What questions?"
"They want to verify the business registration, make sure everything's current. They also want a secondary form of ID. Just standard procedure for large purchases."
Marcus pulled out his wallet and handed over his driver's license. Ryan examined it like he was checking for forgeries, then took a photo of it with his phone.
"This will just take a few more minutes," Ryan said. "You can have a seat over there if you want." He gestured toward a waiting area with leather chairs and a coffee station.
Marcus didn't sit. He stood exactly where he was, hands in his pockets, watching the showroom operate around him. Two salesmen finalized a deal with a farmer in his 60s. All smiles and backslapping. A woman purchased a riding mower with no forms visible, just a quick swipe of a credit card. A couple in their 40s discussed trade-in values on their current tractor. The salesman treating them like old friends even though Marcus heard them say it was their first time in this dealership.
Ryan's phone buzzed. He looked at it, frowned, and walked back toward the offices. The young black employee, still organizing brochures, caught Marcus's eye again. This time he gave a small nod, respectful, knowing. Marcus nodded back.
Minutes passed. Marcus checked his watch again. 8:40. He mentally calculated drive time to his next appointment. Margins were getting tight.
Ryan emerged from the back office. Phone pressed to his ear. His expression had changed. The smugness was gone, replaced by something that looked like confusion or maybe concern. He approached Marcus, lowering the phone slightly, but not ending the call.
"So, uh, finance has a few more questions. They want to speak to you directly."
"Put them on speaker," Marcus said calmly.
Ryan hesitated. "It might be better if we step into an office."
"Speaker," Marcus repeated.
Ryan glanced around. Several people were openly watching now. The showroom had gone quieter. He tapped his phone screen and held it out. "This is Ryan Kellerman. I have Marcus Webb here with me."
The voice on the other end was professional. Serious. A woman's voice. "Mr. Webb, this is Jennifer Patterson from our corporate finance division. I need to verify some information on your application."
"Go ahead," Marcus said.
"Can you confirm your full legal name as it appears on your business registration?"
"Marcus Elijah Webb."
There was a pause. The sound of typing.
"And your business is registered as Webb Agricultural Enterprises LLC."
"That's correct."
More typing. A longer pause.
"Mr. Kellerman," Jennifer said, her tone shifting. "Can you confirm the customer's name again? The full name?"
Ryan pronounced it slowly, slightly mocking in his emphasis. "Marcus Elijah Webb. That's Webb with two B's."
"Yes," Ryan said, impatience creeping into his voice.
Another pause. This one lasted three full seconds. In the silence, Marcus could hear someone in the background of Jennifer's office say something he couldn't make out. Then Jennifer's voice came back. Quieter now, more careful.
"Mr. Kellerman, I'm going to need you to put me on speaker in a private office. This conversation needs to happen away from the sales floor."
Ryan's face went pale. "Is there a problem with his credit?"
"No," Jennifer said, "There's no problem, but this conversation needs to happen privately."
Now Ryan looked at Marcus and for the first time Marcus saw a genuine uncertainty in his eyes. Ryan had expected rejection. He'd expected this to be a waste of time. A story to tell the other salesmen over lunch about the guy who came in talking about buying 12 tractors he couldn't afford. He hadn't expected this.
"Actually," Marcus said quietly, "I'd prefer this conversation stay public. Speaker is fine."
Jennifer hesitated. "Mr. Webb, are you certain?"
"I'm certain."