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put his father in the sanatorium. But the Osgoods had made it through, hadn’t they?
    “So, what about it, Reverend?” Welby changed the attachment on his clippers. “In for a trim?”
    Virgil turned toward the door, where Reverend Caudill had appeared, unnoticed by almost everyone. The minister would come by about once a month for a haircut, but sometimes just to chat.
    “No thanks, Welby, just stopped in to say hello.”
    Grover pointed his chin toward the sign across the street. “I expect you’ve seen the latest, Reverend?”
    “Oh yes. Quite a stir in town about the new servicestation. I really am sorry, Virgil, if selling our land has put you in a bad situation, but whatever happens, I hope our whole town can welcome the new business and its owner with open arms. ‘Love thy neighbour as thyself,’ as the Good Book says. We ought to wish them every success.”
    “Well, I hope the Zipco does well too.” Welby emphasized his point with a dash of Wildroot on Grover’s scalp.
    “As long as he doesn’t sell produce and cold cuts, I guess a new business is always a good thing.” Grover squirmed as Welby dusted off his collar with a small whisk broom.
    Sam scratched his head again and topped it with an old baseball cap. “Gentlemen, I’m out past curfew. A pleasant evening to all.” With that, he left, and the old Farmall could be heard rumbling off somewhere into the cool night.
    “Sadly, I too must depart.” Reverend Caudill still held his hat. “Might I expect each of you in church on Sunday?”
    Everyone nodded as the minister took his leave.
    Grover relaxed. “So, who’s putting this new Zipco place in?”
    “If it’s the kid I met at the lake a few days ago, there’s not much for Virgil to worry about.” Arlie, who had been unusually quiet, paused to stuff another plug of tobacco in his ample jaw. “Boy’s not too bright, if you ask me. Got himself lost trying to get back to the state highway. You gotta work at it to do that.” He reached for the empty Quaker State can that served as his spittoon.
    “That may be the same young fellow who came by here,” said Welby. He exchanged his scissors for a hand mirror. “There you are, Grover   —a little longer on the top.”
    Everyone enjoyed another good laugh. Grover paid Welbyand took his place on a brake fluid crate as Virgil mounted the chair for a trim of his own. “Okay, Grover, what’s all this about being able to compete? And if it is the young man we met, what do we need to do?”
    “Stand up to it, Virgil. To be successful, you’ll have to step up to your opponent. Go blow-by-blow with him.” Grover had watched too many Saturday afternoon boxing matches. “Get him on the ropes. If he’s going to do things the big-city way, you’ll have to do the same.”
    Big city? This was Eden Hill, with maybe two hundred on Sunday afternoon when everyone was in church or at home. “Grover, what if it was a grocery instead of a service station?”
    “Same thing. Read a book on that once. I’d need to cut prices, work harder. Probably spruce the place up. Might have to give up our vacation in Florida every year. Have a sale on something every now and then. Let the guy   —and everybody else   —know that you can do it better.”
    “What about what Reverend Caudill said about open arms?”
    Grover looked out the door, where the preacher was nowhere to be seen. “Then I’d say that you’re giving in to let the other guy win. Might as well take a fall. Oh, Arlie. Before you leave, what’s the almanac say about this winter?”
    The farmer had donned his cap and his barn jacket, and carefully set his oilcan upright on the floor. “Warmer’n last year. Four inches of snow for New Year’s Day, freezin’ rain on January eleventh, and another three inches of snow on Groundhog Day. The critter’s gonna see his shadow and put off spring ’til late March. By then,” Arlie said, “it’ll be timeto get corn in the ground, snow or no