Roses Are Red

Chapter Seventy-Seven

My mind was somewhere else when I knocked and Betsey Cavalierre answered the door to her room. It looked like the other agents had gone. She'd changed into a white T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and she wasn't wearing shoes.

"Sorry. I had to call home," I apologized.

"We solved everything while you were gone," she grinned.

"Perfect," I said. "God bless the FBI. You guys are the best. Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity."

"You know the motto on our seal. Actually, everybody was beat. We could try for that drink now if you'd like. You can't have any excuses left. How about the Roof Bar I've read so much about in the elevator? Or we could go see the Connecticut Sports Museum? The Hartford Police Museum?"

"The bar on the roof sounds good to me," I said. "You can show me the city from up there."

The bar actually had a perfect view of Hartford and the surrounding countryside. I could see lighted logos for Aetna and Travelers from where we sat, as well as Route 84 snaking northeast toward the Massachusetts Turnpike. Betsey ordered a glass of Cabernet. I had a beer.

"How was everything at home?" she asked as soon as the bartender left with our order.

I laughed," I have two kids at home now, and they're both terrific, but there is a certain amount of flux and change to our lives."

'I'm one of six," she said," The eldest and most spoiled one. I know all about flux and change in families."

She smiled and I liked seeing her loosen up. I liked seeing myself loosen up.

1OQ

"You have a favorite? "she asked," Of course you do, but don't tell me. I know you won't anyway. I was my father and mother's favorite. Therein lies the recurring problem in my terribly self-involved life story."

I continued to smile," What's the problem? I don't see any problem. I thought you were perfect?"

Betsey nibbled salted nuts out of her hand. She looked me in the eye. "Overachiever syndrome. Nothing I did was ever good enough -for me. Everything had to be perfect. No mistakes, no slipups," she said and laughed at herself. I liked that about her: She had no airs, and her perspective on things actually seemed pretty healthy.

"You still live up to your own high ideals?" I asked.

She finger-combed her dark hair away from her eyes. "I do, and I don't. I'm pretty much where I want to be on the work front. I'm sooo good for the Bureau. What's that quote? "Ambition makes more trusty slaves than need." However, I must admit that I'm missing a certain balance in my life. Here's a nice image for a life in balance," she said. "You're juggling these four balls that you've named work, family, friends, spirit. Now, work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it bounces back. The other balls they're made of glass."

"I've dropped a few of those glass balls in my day. Sometimes they chip, sometimes they shatter to pieces."

"Exactly."

Our drinks came and we took the obligatory nervous sips. Pretty funny. We both knew what was going on here, though not where it was going, and if it was a good or a really terrible idea. She was warmer and much more nurturing than I had expected. Betsey was a good listener too.

"I bet you're actually pretty good at balancing work, family, friends. Your spirit seems okay too," she said.

"I'm not balancing work too well lately. You have good spirit yourself. You're enthusiastic, positive. People like you. But you've heard all that before."

"Not so much that I mind hearing it again." She raised her glass of wine. "Here's to positive spirit, and spirits. And here's to prison for life plus life, for our friend the Masterprick."

"To prison for life plus life for the Masterprick," I said and raised my beer.

"So here we are in greater Hartford," she said, staring out at the blurred scrim of city lights. I watched her for a moment, and I was pretty sure that she wanted me to watch her.

"What?” I said.

She started to laugh again and it was infectious. She had a great smile that featured her dark sparkling eyes," What do you mean, what?"

"What? Just a simple what," I teased. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

She was still laughing. "I have to ask you this question, Alex. I have no choice in the matter. I have no free will. Here it comes. This could be embarrassing, but I don't care. Okay. Now, do you want to go back to my room? I'd like you to. No strings attached. Trust me. I won't ever cling."

I didn't know what to say to Betsey, but I didn't say no.