"Mix it this time. A little soda. Is that the general attitude? Business as usual?"
"I hear some business is picking up. Lot of people buying winter clothes, for one thing, weather turning cold the way it did. And Dabney Brothers—they run the coal and fuel oil company—got enough orders to keep them going night and day for a week."
"That's fine. But when they eventually run out, like you, then what? Everybody freeze to death?"
The bartender made a thoughtful face. "You got something there. Oh, hello, Ed. Kinda brisk tonight."
It was Ed Clark, the newspaperman. Clark nodded to the bartender, who began to mix him a martini. "Freeze the ears off a brass monkey," Clark said, joining Don. "I have an extra pair of earmuffs if you'd like them."
"Thanks," Don said, "but I think I'd better buy myself some winter clothes tomorrow and return yours."
"Suit yourself. Planning to settle down here?"
"I don't seem to have much choice. Anything new at your end?"
Clark lifted his brimming glass and took a sip. "Here's to a mild winter. New? I guess you know we're in Pennsylvania now and not Ohio. Over Pennsylvania, I should say. Don't ask me why, unless Hector Civek thinks Superior will get a better break, taxwise."
"You think the mayor's behind it all?"