Chapter Four – Betty B.

Spencer held the café door open for her and followed her out. "I'd like to walk you to your car… if… you're okay with that."

"Well, that would be a long walk. I took the bus this morning. But I'm not sure if it runs this late. I need to order an Uber." Susan pulled her cellphone out of her purse.

"I… could take you home. I'd be happy to..." He chuckled. "Hmm. I was going to say, get you home safely, but you have a black belt, so you've had martial arts training?"

She slid her phone back in her purse and pulled the straps over her shoulder as they walked together. "Yes. I have a black belt in Karate and Judo… as well as firearms training."

"So, I was right, when I said don't mess with the professor?" It was nice flirting with her. Susan was easy to talk to and not only was Spencer attracted to her, but he also felt oddly relaxed being with her, a sensation he was generally unfamiliar with.

She laughed, slipping her hand around his arm as he stuck his hands in his pockets. "Well, a woman living alone needs at least some self-defense training." He could feel her shake again.

On the drive, they continued talking while Susan navigated and when he stopped in front of the driveway, Spencer admitted he had seen this impressive building many times before; it was only a couple of blocks from his apartment.

He had always admired it and could pick out the different architectural elements. His favorite part of the building was the spired tower on the front, which reminded him of French Provincial castles.

On a large corner lot, a wrought-iron fence with red and purple tulip beds surrounded it. Landscape lights dotted the yard and a bench in front of the tower. Every time Spencer drove by, he wondered who lived there.

"This is your apartment building?"

"Mmm, no… it's my house." She took her cellphone out of her purse, called a number, and spoke a moment later, "Betty? Open the driveway gate?"

The gate slid open and Spencer parked, and after they got out of the car, the gate slid shut.

He stood in the driveway studying the house from the side of the tower. Curiosity got the better of him, more than his need for sleep, and he wasn't ready to go home. There was so much more he wanted to know about her… and this house.

From his reaction, Susan could tell he was mesmerized, as she was, by her grandfather's work. "My grandfather built it. He made the family promise never to sell the house, but to pass it down to the next generation. Here," she said proudly, taking his hand, "let me show you something cool."

She led him along the flat-stone walkway along the front of the house to where another path intersected it, leading from the steps to the front gate. He looked back up to the tower and heard Susan talking; he assumed into the phone again.

"Betty, turn on the tower and roof lights." A moment later, lights flicked on around the tower, below the spire, and along the roofline. She pointed to the base of the spire, to a filigree grating behind the lights. Spencer thought it looked like a gold crown.

"Grandpa had that made and installed it on her tower, as befitting a queen."

"Who is Betty? Your… cousin?"

"No, Betty is… the house, but also…" Susan explained, "… a combination user interface computer program, and virtual digital assistant. It's similar to Alexa and Siri, but… enhanced on a private network… more like JARVIS, from Iron Man."

Spencer laughed at the Marvel reference, then realized she was serious. "Wait, really? Why do you call her Betty?"

"Yes, really. My grandfather was a home security advocate, one of those eccentric genius inventor types, and an Anglophile. He said the architecture in England inspired him, from the time he spent there during World War II. And he named the house Elizabeth, after the Queen of England… called her Betty B. I think he had a crush on her. The Queen, not the house." She shook her head. "Sorry. That's a story for another time."

"Betty B? I'd like to hear it… if you don't mind" He sat down on the bench in front of the tower and casually crossed one leg over the other, draping his arm along the back. "I have time."

Susan sat down next to him. "I named the A.I. interface, Betty, after the house. There's so much I rely on her for; the security system for example, which includes the cameras on the fence, the front gate, and both driveway gates."

Spencer's eyebrows snapped up as he looked over to where he had parked his car, then back at Susan. "Both driveways?"

She pointed to the stone wall behind a row of tall, narrow trees next to the driveway. "There's a small-ish empty lot in between the block walls there and it appears to go back to the house on the street behind us but leads to the garage door on the side; the front is a facade. I'm not sure why he did that." Moving his hand, he accidentally brushed it along her shoulder and she trembled.

Since he was wearing a jacket and a sweater over his shirt, Spencer offered her his jacket, but Susan insisted she wasn't cold, though she still didn't address the shaking.

"My grandfather, Edward Bartholomew, told me the story of the house when I was young. The day he finished it, was the 6th of February 1952, the same day King George the sixth died and Elizabeth became queen. Grandpa said that was a sign. After the final inspection, Grandpa and his crew brought in the furnishings and set everything up. My grandparents were married eight days later on Valentine's day. This house was his wedding gift to my grandmother."

"Bartholomew? Was his family originally from England?"

"No... well… on my father's side, the Spencer's were, several generations back, but Edward's father was born Enrico Bartolomeo, in Sicily, and changed it to Bartholomew when he and his wife Mina emigrated. Emilio, their first child, was born in Brooklyn and Edward was the last, born at GW Med."

"Brooklyn... New York? What brought them here?"

"The Spanish flu decimated their family in Brooklyn; three of their four children died in 1918, around the time Enrico bought a house and land here. So, he sold their house in Brooklyn and moved his family, and started his construction company. Then, before my grandfather was born a few years later, Enrico started two more businesses. Two of his brothers and a sister came over from Sicily to help run those. Mama Mina's… their Italian restaurant and a butcher shop, a few blocks from where the Rec center is now. Through hard work, Mina's cooking, their business acumen, and financial interests, they prospered during the Depression, by working and bartering with their family, friends, and neighbors, who not only thrived but ate well."

He raised his eyebrows. "Dave has mentioned the restaurant before… said Mina was a cousin?"

"Mm-hmm. Mina was Philomina Rossi, my great-grandmother. Her father was the brother of Dave's great-grandfather, so he's my 3rd-cousin, once removed. I tell people he's a family friend because it's easier. Well, that and because he doesn't get along with most of the cousins."

"I've heard him mention that, but not why."

"They ask him for money or favors… usually money. My family would invite him over to dinner or holiday meals. Or Grandpa would call him, ask him to go fishing. The cousins knew if they asked Grandpa for money, he'd put them to work."

"Hmm. Were any of the other houses he built like this one?"

"All the houses are well-built, lovely homes, but none are this grand, not even my parents' house, two doors down, or my aunt Ellen and uncle Roger's house next door."

Spencer glanced at the houses across the street. He thought of Morgan's, only a few houses past the park as she went on.

"From here, it goes back six blocks behind us, from Wheeler Street on the east side to the Parkway, on the west side. Grandpa wanted to buy the land next to his, but my great-grandfather, Phillip had plans for it but died before…anyway, in his will, he wanted his eldest son—my grandfather William—to hire a company to build the Community Center, the building that's currently the Science Center, and develop the section in between into the park it is now. He ended up hiring Grandpa's company."

"So the families knew each other?" He gazed at her lips again, then at her fingers absently brushing hair off her neck.

"Through business connections, only. Other than that, no, the families were part of different social circles. The Spencers were Rock Creek Country Club, and the Bartholomews were members of the Sons and Daughters of Italy. Would you like to come in?" When she stood up and held out her hand, Spencer took it. There was so much more he wanted to know about her.

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A/N

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