Betty's First Trip To Rome – The Return - Chapter 12 Tuscan Dinosaurs ate Sage and Honey

On Monday morning Betty met Marc at the Regal Park subway station and they walked together through the park. Marc was grateful to be finished with the nanny problem and away from Wilhelmina's constant control. Working on Betty's theatrical production, something he was good at and enjoyed doing, was a great pleasure.

Marc was describing to Betty, who couldn't visit the hospital because of her cold, the events of the weekend. She pestered Marc for every detail about Christina's health, and why the baby was going to live with Daniel and Renee, and especially wanting to know anything he could say about the adorable, pretty, cute, and unbelievably sweet-natured baby, Marina.

As they were walking past Nick's bench, Marc said, "You know, it's so ironic that Renee is helping Wilhelmina with the baby."

"Why do you say that?" asked Betty.

"Oh," said Marc, realizing he had revealed something he shouldn't have. "Oh, no reason." He asked Betty, "How was your weekend?" in an impulsive, but weak, attempt to change the topic.

Betty studied Marc's demeanor, knowing he was hiding something. "It's not going to work, Marc. Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing!" said Marc. "At least, nothing I can tell you."

Betty thought it over for a moment, undeterred. Curious to know what Marc was hiding, she made an uncharacteristic ploy to get him to talk, "Marc, I can get you kicked off this charity project if I want. Tell me!"

"Oh, I'm going to be sorry," said Marc, resigned, tired of hiding this particular secret because it was so dastardly. He had refused to commit a crime for Amanda, when she wanted him to destroy Fey's diary pages that eventually exonerated Claire, and this despicable deed seemed as bad or worse. That he had participated in the scheme, and knowing now what could have happened because of it, haunted him.

"You can't tell anyone about this," said Marc, whispering to Betty, "because I'm the only one who knows."

"Sure," replied Betty. "Go ahead."

"No, I mean seriously," said Marc.

"Yes, I promise."

"Wilhelmina swapped Renee's pills and that's why she went crazy and set Daniel's apartment on fire. Wilhelmina deliberately caused Renee's breakdown which almost killed you both. Even Daniel could have been killed."

"What?" exclaimed Betty. "Unbelievable!"

"I know."

"I can't believe it," said Betty angrily, "and yet, I can. Wilhelmina's truly a witch, and that's being kind. Renee has enough problems without her own sister sabotaging her mental health!"

Betty walked along silently, reflecting on Marc's disclosure, reeling from the extent of Wilhelmina's wickedness. What could have been her motive? Did she hate her sister? Did she want her dead? Or was she using Renee as a weapon to hurt Daniel, or worse, kill him?

"No, it can't be true," concluded Betty. "You must be mistaken. Not even Wilhelmina is capable of doing that."

"I'm not mistaken," said Marc, agitated, distressed from exposing himself to danger by revealing the fiendish act and yet relieved by unburdening himself to Betty, whom he trusted.

"Not only is it true," said Marc, sickened from shame and guilt, "I was the one who swapped her pills, I swapped them with diet pills!"

"There are diet pills!" said Betty, surprised. "Why diet pills?"

"They were the only ones Wilhelmina had that matched."

"Oh," said Betty. "Well that explains a lot, now we know Renee went crazy because she wasn't taking her meds."

"No," said Marc, "it's worse than that."

"Worse why?" asked Betty.

"Betty, don't you know what's in diet pills?" asked Marc.

"No," said Betty. For someone of her girth working in the fashion business, Betty was amazingly uninformed about diet pills.

"Diet pills contain exactly the kind of chemicals Renee shouldn't be taking."

"Oh!" said Betty. "Now I think I see what you're saying."

"Yes. I knowingly harmed her. I'll never forgive myself," said Marc. Ever since he did it, Marc believed himself a contemptible coward for following Wilhelmina's shameful orders without question.

"But nobody could know," said Betty, "what was going to happen."

"That's just it! It happened before," said Marc. "Wilhelmina knew exactly what she was doing."

"Well, she made you do it," said Betty, sympathetically. "It wasn't your fault."

Marc, remorseful, shook his head. "No, don't say that. You could've been killed, you should despise me. I'm so sorry."

"I don't hate you, I forgive you," said Betty, patting his arm. "Thank you for telling me. Now it's over and Renee is going to be alright. Daniel will take care of her."

Marc frowned, much less confident of Daniel's care-giving abilities than Betty.

"You should tell Daniel," said Betty. "He should know."

"I can't," said Marc, distressed and tearful. "She'll know it was me who told him."

"Then put it out of your mind and let's go help these kids," said Betty.

Betty supposed that if Wilhelmina could do something like that to her own flesh and blood, then everyone around her was in grave peril. And someone foolhardy enough to put himself in her path could be in mortal danger. Someone like Daniel.

* * *

Later that morning, Betty was in the hot, dusty, sparsely furnished third floor classroom used for the Refugee teens at risk program introducing Marc to the students.

"Marc, I'd like you to meet Flash. He's such a good artist!" said Betty, smiling at Flash.

Flash was surprised and pleased by Betty's praise and he smiled shyly back at her, wondering how she knew about his passion for art.

"Flash, my goal is to get you enrolled in art classes. I think you're going to be a great painter some day. I'll buy a painting from you in advance, so you can afford them. Do you want to take lessons?"

Amazed by her generosity, Flash nodded his approval. He had fantasized about being a painter for a long time, but no one before Betty had encouraged him to pursue it.

Fiona interrupted their discussion by entering the classroom with a police officer.

"Betty," said Fiona, "sorry to bother you, but Constable Parker would like to speak with Flash."

"Yes, sure," said Betty. "No problem."

Betty and Flash stood up and walked to the doorway to meet Fiona and Constable Parker while the rest of the students and Marc looked on.

"I'm here about a complaint," said Constable Parker, looking bored, reading from his clipboard. "Flash, did you paint graffiti on a building beside the park yesterday? Someone says they saw you in the lane carrying paints about six."

Flash, looking scared, shrugged and said, "I don't know." He looked at Betty, pleading for help.

Constable Parker jiggled the pair of handcuffs attached to his belt. "Think carefully because I'm going to have to take you in for questioning."

"Flash, if this is true you'll be kicked out of the program," said Fiona. "I'm sorry, but there are consequences."

Betty was alarmed about what would happen to Flash if he was taken out of the program by Constable Parker. Her own brush with the law, when she'd been handcuffed in Gio's deli, still frightened her and she was afraid to interfere, but she was angry that these teens, who in her experience were nice kids considering everything, were always getting more flak for the petty crimes they did than help for the dire problems they had. She wondered who accused Flash. Was it Nick … or Harold? She realized it could have been anybody.

Betty watched Flash, slouching, silent and sullen, and then he glanced at her, imploring her for help, his face expressing such despair it prompted her to speak.

"No! Flash couldn't have done it," lied Betty, quaking in fear. "I was with him around then and we were no where near here." Betty closed her eyes briefly, wondering how she could possibly pull this off. She had no idea where she would say they were, and Flash wouldn't be able to corroborate it anyway. She didn't even know if he meant six in the morning or at night.

"Oh?" said Constable Parker, holding his bulky six foot frame erect and looking down sternly at Betty, an unconvincing liar, his interest roused by the transparent deception. "Is that so?"

Marc, Fiona, Constable Parker, and all the kids stared at Betty in disbelief. Everyone thought she was lying except for Flash, who knew she was.

Betty, swallowing hard and facing Constable Parker as confidently as she could, said firmly, "He couldn't have been there because he was with me."

"Well, now," said Constable Parker, flipping over the papers on his clipboard. "Would you be willing to sign a statement to that effect?"

Betty, trembling, near fainting, reconsidered.

What was she doing? If she was found out, which would not be difficult, it might discredit Mode's involvement in the charity and certainly bring shame upon herself. Everything she was doing here was at stake. Did she want to risk it all to stop them from taking Flash out of the program? Was lying the best way to keep him in? Was honesty not a virtue she valued highly? Was keeping Flash worth going against her principles? What kind of example was she setting? Was her motive truly selfless? She didn't have time to think!

Flash looked at Betty, willing her to save him.

Finally, convinced her moral duty was to save Flash and that this particular lie was an acceptable way to do it, but even more apprehensive now she knew it would be in writing, Betty responded weakly, "Yes."

"Name, please?" said Constable Parker, looking at his clipboard and getting his pen ready.

"Let me give you my card," said Betty.

Betty looked down and rummaged through her purse, letting her hair hang in front of her face, glad to have a reason to hide from his scrutiny for a moment.

Pulling the card out, she said, "Here's everything about me." She stood and waited, resolute but dreading what horror might befall her because of it.

Constable Parker took the card and looked it over, "Mode Magazine? Why is someone from Mode Magazine working here?"

Happy for the diversion, Betty enthusiastically explained the competition and the play the teens were performing and how it would help them and promote the charity. She gave Constable Parker a playbill and invited him and the other police officers to the performance. Constable Parker thanked Betty for volunteering in the community.

Fortunately for Betty, knowing he had more pressing concerns on his roster he decided to forgo any further inquiry. Constable Parker winked and said, "Okay, must have been a mistake, happens all the time."

Constable Parker shook hands with Flash, dazed and relieved, and said, "Sorry about the mistake, son, but remember, I've got my eyes on you, okay?"

After Constable Parker left, Fiona pulled Betty to the side, and said, "Why did you say that?"

Silently thanking her lucky stars for getting away with it, Betty said, "He's a good kid and he needs to be here, I just know it."

She smiled reassuringly at Flash as they joined the circle of other students and Marc, everyone silently regarding Betty with a new respect.

Betty said brightly, "Okay, let's pretend that didn't happen and get back to work."

* * *

Monday evening the teens' parents were invited to the charity to meet Betty and Marc and learn about the play that Mode Magazine was organizing for them.

Carrying a container of chicken soup and a thermos, Gio entered the room and looked around for Betty. As he approached her, he saw she was surrounded by several teens and parents, handing out playbills and tickets, and talking animatedly with them.

"Hi!" said Betty, smiling when she spotted Gio walking towards her. She covered her face with her hands, warding off an embrace, and shouted a warning to him, "Germs!"

Gio smiled and held out the thermos, "I have some sage and honey tea for you. It's an ancient Italian remedy, passed down from generation to generation of the Rossi family since the dinosaurs roamed the Tuscan valleys. Want to give it a try?"

"Of course," said Betty taking the thermos.

"And some soup," said Gio, handing her the container.

"Thank you!" said Betty eagerly. "I'm sorry for ruining our date night, but this is the first night we could get."

"No problem, I'm glad to get a chance to see where you've been hanging out these days. This is a corner of New York I wouldn't normally see."

"I know what you mean," said Betty in a hoarse voice. "Thank you for coming."

"Shouldn't you see a doctor about your throat?"

"No, I don't have time, and besides there are enough antibiotics in the environment as it is. It's only been a few days."

"Seven … but who's counting," said Gio. "Give the tea a try."

"I will," said Betty, setting the container and thermos on a table. Betty turned to Flash, who'd been trailing close to her all evening, "Flash, this is Gio. Gio, Flash."

"Nice to meet you Mister Suarez," said Flash, extending his hand.

"No," corrected Betty. "His name is Gio Rossi. I'm going to be Mrs. Rossi."

"Nice to meet you Mister Rossi," said Flash, looking to Betty for approval.

"You can call him Gio," said Betty. Fiona made the teens call her Miss Suarez but that rule didn't apply to Gio.

"Nice to meet you, Gio," said Flash, smiling and shaking hands warmly with Gio.

Marc brought Bling and his mother, Joy, a slim young woman carrying a baby girl on her hip, over to meet her. Since they had very little English, Marc couldn't understand what the mother was trying to say to him.

Joy spoke to Flash in their own language for a few minutes. She was clearly agitated and had something important she wanted to communicate to Betty.

"She say you buy gum for Bling," said Flash. "She say bad."

"Oh," said Betty, surprised, wondering what could be wrong with gum.

"It's healthy," said Betty, guessing that Joy didn't approve of candy. She waited for Flash to translate it for her.

Joy was no less upset upon hearing this, or whatever it was that Flash actually said to her.

"It was sugarless gum," said Betty, frustrated, gesturing with her hands. Betty thought hard, wondering whether it was possible to explain artificial sweeteners in simple terms.

Seeing Betty, Flash, Bling, Joy, Marc, and Gio engaged in an energetic discussion Fiona approached the group.

"No," said Flash to Betty, "Don't give to Bling, he buy."

"Do you know what's wrong?" asked Betty of Fiona.

"Sounds like you offended Joy by giving Bling the gum rather than letting him buy it himself."

"Oh!" said Betty. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Flash, tell her I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

Flash and Joy talked for a few minutes. Joy was evidently upset about something else and was explaining it to Flash.

"She say how play help Bling?" asked Flash. "He need job."

"Uh, oh," said Betty, concerned. "This isn't an employment program. Fiona, how can I explain what this program is about?"

"Let me try," said Fiona. "I have some pamphlets that have been translated, in my office. Flash, please come, too."

Fiona took Joy, Bling, and Flash to her office.

"Maybe Wilhelmina's plan to teach them to sew wasn't such a bad idea," said Marc shrugging. "Who would ever have guessed she might have been right about something?"

"No, Marc!" said Betty, perturbed, coughing. "It was not right. The only problem is that I don't know how to explain it to her."

"She'll come around, Buttercup," said Gio, stifling a yawn. "I know you're doing the right thing."

"I hope so, lunk-head," said Betty, smiling ruefully at Gio. "Wait till you hear about Constable Parker."

"Who is he?" said Gio, rubbing his eyes.

Betty observed dark circles under Gio's eyes. "I'll tell you later, I better wrap this up. You look like you need to get some sleep."

* * *

Tuesday morning, Betty, a sheaf of playbills under her arm, entered the Regal Park convenience store door, making its door chime ring, looking for Harold. The store was empty, with not even Harold visible, an unusual occurrence. Betty walked toward the cash register and, remembering Santos's death in a convenience store robbery, approached the counter with a sense of dread, afraid she might find Harold's bullet ridden body lying behind it. As she leaned over the counter to look down, scared to look, she was startled by the sound of Harold's step behind her. Betty jerked around and knocked some packages of gum onto the floor.

"Hi, Betty," said Harold, coming out of the back room, smiling, the hair he had left combed neatly, dressed in a new white shirt.

"Harold!" exclaimed Betty.

Harold squatted down to pick up the packages, "I was hoping you'd come in today."

Betty leaned down to help pick up the gum, "Sorry, you surprised me."

Once everything was back in place, Harold went to his usual spot behind the counter.

"What would you like, Betty?" asked Harold amiably.

"I brought you some money to pay you back for Flash and Bling," Betty said, reaching into her purse to pull out her wallet.

"You don't have to do that," said Harold.

"I want to," said Betty. "I understand how you must feel about them … those kids. You should be compensated."

"Is it from the charity?" asked Harold. "Why would they want to waste their money on me?"

"No, it isn't theirs. It's my own," said Betty hoarsely, coughing. "You wouldn't be depriving them."

"I can't accept it," said Harold, and he chuckled, "Anyway, how would I declare it on my income tax?"

"I don't know," said Betty. "But you have to take it."

"No, I insist … put your wallet away. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Harold, do you think you could give Bling a job here?" asked Betty.

"What! So it'll be even easier for him to steal from me?" exclaimed Harold, flabbergasted by the suggestion.

"No!" said Betty. "So he can earn some money and pay you back."

"Oh," said Harold. "I don't know. I never have kids working here. I guess I could think about it. Betty, I'll think about it, but I don't know. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, I brought our playbills advertising the play the teens and I are doing. I was hoping that you'd come to it and post one of these here."

"Sure, I'll come," said Harold, glad to get an easy-to-fulfill request. "Give me a poster and I'll put it up"

"How many tickets do you want?" asked Betty.

"One," said Harold, smiling. "Thanks for inviting me."

"You can have more if you want," said Betty. "Do you want some for your family?"

"No," said Harold, blushing, flustered. "There's no one else."

Betty handed Harold a ticket.

"Anything else you want today?" asked Harold.

"Um," said Betty, happy that Harold was reacting more positively than she thought he might. "There is something else you could do."

"What?" asked Harold, leaning forward on the counter.

"Could you deliver some of these to the other stores around here for me? I have a lot to hand out."

"Oh, sure," said Harold, "give me a dozen or so."

Harold wondered when he'd get a chance to do it since he didn't often take breaks, but he wanted to please Betty. He'd been sorry immediately after she left the store before, when he'd reacted so harshly to the charity she was helping.

A couple entered the store, setting off the door chime, and headed towards the drink cooler at the back.

"Thank you!" said Betty, while counting out twelve posters.

Betty handed Harold the posters and turned to walk out of the store as the woman put a carton of milk on the counter.

"Betty," said Harold as Betty reached the door, holding the milk carton in his hand.

Betty turned back, "What, Harold?"

"Uh," Harold squeaked, awkward and tense. "Do you want more cough drops? Take some, I won't charge you."

"No, thanks," said Betty, turning to the door. "I have enough."

"Betty," said Harold as soon as Betty pushed on the door again. The woman was tapping a finger on the counter, a bill fluttering in her hand.

Betty stopped and turned around to look at Harold, "What is it?"

Panicked, Harold blurted out, "Betty, will you go out with me sometime?"

"Huh?" said Betty, not comprehending.

"You and me, do you want to go out to dinner or a movie?" said Harold hurriedly, tongue-tied, his face turning red, "Or dinner and a movie? Anything you want to do."

"Oh, Harold," said Betty, finally understanding his intentions. "No, I can't … but, thank you."

"Of course, I understand," said Harold, his hopes dashed, feeling like an idiot because he did not understand, perplexed he had said he did. He took the bill from the woman's hand, an automatic response, and pressed a button on the till, which dinged, continuing to look at Betty. Although he didn't understand why she couldn't, he understood that she didn't want to, and that was all it took to shatter him.

"I'm engaged," said Betty, wanting to explain, seeing it'd been hard for Harold to ask, and knowing her answer had hurt him.

"Sure," said Harold, embarrassed by the situation, distressed his pitiful overture was rejected. "Of course, you would be."

He had already checked her hand for a ring. There was no ring. He assumed she was making the engagement up, a lie to avoid going out with him, a lie to spare his feelings. It was just the kind of thing a sweet person like Betty would do.

"Bye," said Betty. "Thanks for taking the posters."

"You're welcome, Betty. Bye," said Harold, crestfallen, watching her until she was out of sight.

Turning to the impatient woman in front of him, Harold wished he was anywhere else but where he was.

"I'm sorry about that," said Harold dejectedly, adding mechanically, "Do you want anything else?"