Beauty Queen

oiled the ancient hinges—and hit against a chair in the last row. The smell of the harbor rushed past her into the room. On the counter, the two candles guttered as the breeze hit them.
    Everyone in the room turned around to look at her.
    Bill had been waiting for her to come in, with every nerve in his body vibrating. He had heard the cab pull up outside, heard the car door slam, heard her footsteps, heard her pause outside the door.
    Then the door flew open, and she stood there, looking curiously like a little girl, in her flat shoes and her belted trench coat, and the little paisley silk scarf tied over her head. He recalled that, a thousand times in his life, he had dreaded the moment when she would stand looking at him with that look in her eyes that he saw there now.
    Shakily, he laid the open Bible down on the rich wood counter, not closing it.
    "Hello, Jeannie," he said. "Come on in. This is the Bible study group that I mentioned."
    She walked a couple of halting steps into the room, her hands clenched deep in her pockets, and looked savagely around.
    "What is going on here?" she asked hoarsely.
    The people in the room were staring at her. It was just beginning to dawn on them that former State Senator Jeannie Laird Colter, now a candidate in the gubernatorial race in New York State, and famous, yea, notorious for her pitiless pursuit of moral reform in the state, was standing there in the open doorway.
    "Well," stammered Bill, "as you can see, this is a little Bible study group. It's not quite a service. We're not really ready for that. We don't have a real preacher, and we're just feeling our way .. ."
    "A real preacher?" she burst out. "What would a real preacher be doing here keeping fellowship with these infidels? What are you doing here with these infidels?"
    Bill put his shaky fingers on the pages of the open Bible, as if to reassure himself with the touch of its cool pages.
    "Well, Jeannie, I am here because I am one of these people."
    She came striding angrily toward him, then stopped suddenly and glared around at all the members of the group. They glared back, all of them a little blanched with apprehension. Bill saw that she noted Mary Ellen was there. Sam and Jewel, whom he'd also met, were there, but she wouldn't know those two surviving members of the NYPD Four.
    "Look," she said harshly, "if this is some kind of joke—"
    "It's no joke," said Bill, "and it's time that you finally knew the facts."
    The blood was rushing back to her head, into her lungs. The heat and redness of it almost suffocated her. Her eyes fell to her father's hands on the Bible.
    "Then you have no right to touch that book!" she cried
    out.
    She lunged at him to grab it.
    Marion, who was leaning against the counter to one side, reached to grab her arm. Quick as lightning, she grabbed one of the old candlesticks and swung it at Marion with terrible strength, nearly hitting his head.
    With gasps of dismay, the group were on their feet. The burning candle fell down against the counter, against the old wood. "Quick, put it out," screamed one of the women. Bill felt his heart snap painfully, envisioning his entire South Street property in flames like in an old movie.
    Sam, meanwhile, had grabbed Jeannie as her wild swing made her lose her balance. Mary Ellen twisted the candlestick out of her hand. One of the other men dived with his jacket, and jabbed it several times against the counter, snuffing out the tiny flames that had started.
    Jeannie was wrestling pitifully with Sam and Mary Ellen against the counter, screaming, "Infidels! Infidels!" Tears were running down her face.
    Finally Sam and Mary Ellen had her grimly braced against the counter, and she went limp, with her head hanging. All the gay Baptists stood anxiously watching her.
    Then she slowly raised her head, and looked into Marion's eyes. He gazed back, calm, impassive, a T.E. Lawrence gazing at her out of his own personal desert of pain and risk.
    "Jeannie," said Bill softly and shakily, "the gentleman you're looking at is my lover. Meet Marion, Jeannie. Marion, meet my daughter Jeannie."
    He looked out at the group. "Would somebody shut the door?"
    One of the young men shut the door.
    "Brothers and sisters, sit down again," he said. "I think the fireworks are over now. I apologize for my daughter's behavior. Please forgive her. I am sure you can understand the shock she is feeling . .
    Sam and Mary Ellen loosened her hold on Jeannie, and she twisted away from