Both drivers had something in common: the controllers in each car (Billy Quirter in one, Gloria in the other) were hungry. The sign denoting food served in the Arrow Junction General Store performed the beacon. Gloria was the first to step outside, running lightly and easily through the snow with a dancer’s grace. She rapped quickly on the glass pane of the door. Sam Dickens came up behind her saying, “Honey, they’re not open—” But Gloria paid no attention to him. Sam Dickens sighed, and turned to look disinterestedly at Reverend Andrews’s old car. Gloria’s knocking was insistent. Finally, face perturbed, Bob Saywell jerked up the shade, preparing to shake his head. He looked at Gloria in her mink. Quite suddenly he unlocked the door and swung it open. “Why, you folks come right on in!” Fat cheeks puffing roundly with a smile, Bob Saywell motioned Gloria inside. Then his eyes flickered to Sam Dickens, on to Sam’s new Chrysler, then to Reverend Andrews’s car as the good reverend, face set, climbed out.
