The Miracle by Irving Wallace

season.
    Yet, Reggie had felt, the restaurant could be more than a minor adjunct, could become a major adjunct, an equal in profitabihty. True, it needed expansion and modernization -- but even more it needed a partner who believed in it. Reggie had gone to Jamet and offered himself as that partner, the right partner, one with get-up-and-go. For his investment Reggie had offered a modest sum of money and his own creativity. Jamet had flatly turned him down. The money offered was not enough and the creativity was not proved. Reggie had not brooded over the defeat. He was a veteran of rejection. He had turned to other things.
    But today, his mind was back on Jamet and the restaurant. Because, today, Reggie had the money to invest and a stimning creative idea.
    Reggie went quickly to the telephone to learn whether Jamet was still in London, and if in London but out to lunch, to learn when he would be back in the office and available. He was there, but not easily available. He was eating a sandwich at his desk. He was extremely busy trying to schedule additional pilgrimages to Lourdes because of the demand created by the news of the Virgin Mary's expected reappearance in three weeks, or soon after.
    "Great turn, that Virgin Mary bit," said Reggie, "and I've got something super that will tie in with it. I have a wonderful piece of news that will help both of us."
    "Like the last time?" said Jamet dryly.
    "Jean-Claude, this is something special, a once-in-a-lifetime thing, manna from heaven. I thought of you right away. You've got to find a minute for me."
    "Well, I'm still eating, haven't gone back to work yet. I suppose I

    could see you while I'm on the dessert, if you can come right over. Might as well get it done with or you'll keep nagging me. If you have to see me, do it now, right now."
    "Be over in a flash," said Reggie, hanging up and grabbing for his sports jacket.
    Outside, the sprinkles had stopped, the sun was doing its late act, and Reggie was whistling as he strode to the garage. There was trouble in starting his old Rover, but at last he had it going. He backed out of the garage, shifted into high, and raced off in the direction of Piccadilly Circus. Jamet's Full Circle Agency was three blocks north of the Circus.
    Once at his destination, and snugly parked, Reggie straightened his tie and plaid jacket, pressed down a stray lock of hair, and moved confidently into the agency. It was busy, all right, as Jamet had said it was, and there were at least a dozen would-be tourists at the two counters vying for the attention of the three clerks. With a possessive air, Reggie barged in behind the long counter. When the nearest clerk made an effort to stop him, Reggie said airily, "Jamet's expecting me. We have an appointment."
    Reggie moved on to Jamet's private cubbyhole of an office in the rear. Jamet, at his desk surrounded by walls decorated with scenic de-lights of the European Grand Tour and a square of color photos of Lourdes including the Cafe Massabielle, was shoving the last piece of his apple pie into his mouth.
    He gave Reggie an uninviting sour look as his visitor entered breezily. When Reggie was up, nothing could put him down. He had a salesman's armadillo shell, thick and insensitive. Reggie tugged a straight wooden chair around to the front of the desk and quickly seated himself, ready to start.
    "What's the big deal this time?" Jamet asked coldly.
    "Your restaurant in Lourdes. I'm still interested in buying into it. I still think it can become an enormous winner."
    "Do you now? Well, my friend, you'll have to do much better than you did last time."
    "I'm prepared to, or I wouldn't be here," promised Reggie with verve. "This time I've got it all together, and you won't be able to resist. Jean-Claude, for a half ownership of the restaurant, I'm ready to put up fifty thousand pounds in cash toward expansion and improvement of your property. The money is my wife's inheritance that she's held on to in case she