unlikely. Now Eberhardt…bombs and guns were his style. Had he taken it upon himself to do what he knew his boss wouldn’t condone? But why? Especially after I’d accused him of lying to me. What would either of them gain? It was time to find out.
I smiled at Cole and stood, then walked over to a public transceiver in the back corner and entered Guy’s number. I turned on the vidscreen.
“Keira! How are you?” He sounded concerned.
“I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”
“I have no doubt about that. May I see you?”
“Yes,” I said quietly. “Where?”
“Would you meet me for dinner at the Café de Rivoli tomorrow at 6:00?”
I smiled at his choice of restaurants. “I’ll be there.”
-Guy-
The Road Less Traveled
I stood when I noticed Keira walking toward my table. I almost didn’t recognize her. Short curly blond hair framed her face and dark blue jeans enhanced her curves. A lacy green shirt caused her emerald eyes to sparkle.
“Hello, I’m Guy Bensen, and you are?”
“Keira Maddock. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held out her hand.
Instead of a handshake, I gently pressed my lips to the back of her hand. I looked up to see a genuine smile. I pulled out her chair, and Keira placed a black pack at her feet as she sat down.
The waiter arrived, and I ordered drinks, imported Chardonnay.
I leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
She nodded and responded just as quietly. “Thank you for inviting me to dinner…Elaine Ramsey, that was you?”
My smile disappeared. “Eberhardt. I wish he hadn’t done that. It’s not like him to take matters into his own hands. He usually follows orders. It does complicate things.”
She nodded. “I know. If she thought I was dead, she doesn’t anymore. Even Scott thought the bomb was my doing. It’s why I dyed my hair.” She reached up to toy with a few curls.
“You should change your name.”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I don’t have a bank account anymore. My apartment is gone. Madeline Jones is gone. All my paperwork on her was in my apartment when…anyway, as long as I continue to lay low, Ramsey shouldn’t be able to track me.”
I nodded. I wouldn’t bring it up again, but I would get the process started, just in case.
The waiter returned with our drinks, and I placed identical orders: the house salad, tilapia and steamed vegetables.
When he left, I noticed a question in Keira’s eyes.
“Why did you want to see me?” she asked.
I picked up a thin book, opened it and began to recite:
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair…
Keira concluded the poem:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and II took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
“The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost. Where did you get that?”
I handed her the book. “It was your father’s. Scott wanted you to have it. That poem means a lot to me too. I’ve never been one to take the popular route.” I hesitated, but only for a moment. “I hope I haven’t missed the right road,” I finished in a rush.
She smiled. “But how can we know which is the right road?”
“I think I know.” I looked directly into her radiant eyes. She held my gaze.
Our food arrived then. I looked away and took a deep breath.
During dinner, we talked about our childhoods. They had been different, to say the least.
Afterward, I asked, “Do you have anywhere you need to be tonight?”
“No, nowhere.”
“Will you walk with me? It’s such a beautiful evening.”
“All right.”
“May I carry that for you?” I indicated the black pack into which she’d placed the book of poetry. I wondered what else was in it. It probably contained everything she owned.
“I can carry it myself.” She spoke quickly but then looked at me and appeared to have second thoughts. “Um…okay.” She handed me the pack. “Thank you.”
The setting sun cast a pink hue on the horizon. As we walked, I gently took her hand in mine. Keira didn’t pull away so I laced my fingers through hers. We continued on, enjoying each others’ company.
“Hey, I know where we are.” She stopped suddenly and looked up at a tall apartment complex. “Didn’t a man named Oren Johnson used to live here?”
“Yes, he was renting from me, but