Sharon interrupted loudly, with a warning look, "Mr. Chesbro means Congressman Akslund has left him some work to do. Anyway, Mrs. Goudeket—"
Oh, she was arch! And no sleep, marveled Mrs. Goudeket—"much as I'd love to join your little party and share the finest of accommodations for which your hotel is noted, there are big things to be done. So thanks, but no thanks."
"Fine," said Mrs. Goudeket. "Stay here with your big things. Now before somebody steals my car, we better go." She folded the trip ticket from the motor pool and put it down on the table next to Dick McCue. Mickey Groff said, "Wait a minute, Mrs. Goudeket. What are these 'big things?'"
Chesbro laughed. "Groff, does Macy's tell Gimbel's? I tell you what. You want the Swanscomb place, right?" He shrugged generously. "It's yours. I won't buck you."
"If you won't buck me it's because you don't want it any more," Groff said. "You're after bigger game. What would that be, Chesbro? A finger in a billion-dollar pie? A chance to spread federal funds around the way you want to? Maybe the break you've been waiting for?"
Chesbro said fretfully, "Now Mickey, please. Why can't you be reasonable? You're an outlander here, you've got nothing to do with the community. You want to move in with your nickel factory? Go ahead. I won't stand in your way. I'll even help you. But you can't do anything with the federal grants, because you don't have the connections, because you don't have the information about who needs what, because you aren't local and wouldn't be allowed to come within smelling distance of it in the first place. Why not live and let live?"
He was open and honest, Groff saw—as open and honest as the likes of Artie Chesbro ever knew how to be. You work your side of the street, he was saying, and I'll work mine. Under the ethical stands of Artie Chesbro he had made an honorable proposal. It would never have occurred to him to entertain propositions like—
Federal funds are money in trust—
A time of catastrophe is not a time to feather one's nest—
Or even—