Beauty Queen

a sexual being, thanks to the lightning action of the crews and officials at Le Mans. He had only been in the blazing cockpit for fifteen seconds. But the fire had seared his torso and one leg with third-degree bums, and he had endured months in the hospital, grafting operations and physical therapy. After that, Marion confessed frankly that he had lost his nerve. But Bill felt that it had taken guts to give up his career as a Class A racing driver, rehabilitate himself, and get into the top job at Rolls-Royce, which was expanding its marketing in the U.S.
    Looking across the tables at Marion as he walked through the restaurant, Bill remembered seeing the exploding car on the TV sports news. That was how he learned of Marion's accident. Afterward, it was days before Marion was well enough to reassure him via cable. None of Marion's associates had known he and Bill were that close. Bill lived out the weeks in agonized frenzy—which he had to hide from his wife, his brother, his family and business colleagues.
    "Love is so rare any more," he thought. "When two people manage to find it, it doesn't make sense that they have to pretend they are only friends."
    Marion's shy eyes were now squinting up at him quizzically, and he smiled. His glass of white wine was half-empty already—he must have been anxious and gotten there a little early.
    Bill sank into the other chair. The waiter was hovering.
    Bill pointed at Marion's glass. "The same," he said to the waiter.
    Most Baptists believed that alcohol was sinful, but Bill had read the Bible carefully and he had observed that Jesus drank a moderate amount of wine, so he did likewise.
    When the waiter had gone, Marion said quickly, "What happened?"
    Bill sighed.
    "Jeannie is about to launch another one of her holy wars," he said.
    He told Marion about his breakfast talk with Jeannie. They stopped talking for a minute as the waiter brought Bill's wine, and took their orders. Confused and upset as he was, Bill could hardly focus on the menu. Finally he ordered the salad Nicoise. Marion ordered the lemon chicken.
    "Well," said Marion softly, "you always knew that she was going to get around to it someday, didn't you?"
    Bill sighed again. "She had such a long list of enemies that I kept hoping she'd never get around to it."
    "Very ambitious, eh?" said Marion. "I mean, do you really think she has a chance at governor?"
    "Not really," said Bill. "But she doesn't know that. Besides, you never know ..
    "Why not mayor of New York?"
    "Because," said Bill, "she knows that being mayor is a dead end. And she knows that being governor gives her a better shot at the Presidency."
    Marion gave a low whistle. "Very ambitious."
    "I think she'd settle for vice president, or even a seat in the Cabinet. But in the meantime, she'd have a wonderful time running for President, and she'd stir the whole country up with her vision of a moral America."
    Marion shuddered slightly.
    The food arrived, and they ate at it without too much enthusiasm.
    "I keep trying to think," said Bill, "where Jeannie learned her phobia about 'perverts/ I certainly never taught her that. Or maybe I did. Maybe I taught her by default, by being silent. . ."
    "Don't get off on a big guilt thing now," said Marion. "You never taught her that and you know it."
    "That preacher Irving has had a big influence on her," said Bill, "but I don't think he taught her that either. She had it before she was saved. Besides, Irving preaches that you have to love sinners, all sinners, bar none. Jeannie doesn't love sinners. She'd like to run them all through a big meat grinder."
    The waiter came to get their dessert order, and cleared away their plates. Bill, who always worried about his weight, ordered black coffee. Marion, who had the insolence of a skinny child when it came to calories, ordered the Sumptuary's chocolate mousse topped with whipped cream and hazelnuts.
    "Well," said Bill, "what do we do?"
    "Nothing," said Marion. He was scooping enthusiastically at his dessert.
    "What do you mean, nothing?" Bill felt a little irritated. "You don't seem very concerned."
    "I'm not, really," said Marion coolly. But he was smiling a little, and made a salute at Bill with a big spoonful of mousse, like he was toasting.
    "Why?"
    "You think she's going to be a problem for you. But you're going to be a problem for her. Did you ever look at it that way?"
    "What do you mean?"
    "Supposing it's revealed that you . . ."
    Suddenly Bill realized what Marion