Work distracted Lizabeth. She had an unusually busy day, perhaps because the office had been closed on Friday (which was characteristically the most hectic day of the week). Two men came in to register fictitious business names with 'mining' in the title just before the office was to close for lunch. While they didn't linger as some did, having to process two at the same time still carried her past the noon hour. By the time she locked up for lunch, it was too late to go out, and she sat in the break room to eat a protein bar that she kept in her desk.
Lizabeth had managed to repair the chaos she had wrought to the break room by rescuing Kitty. But behind the shelves, there was still that missing patch of drywall. Shirley said that money for the repairs had to go before the city council at next week's meeting, and she had been asked to present a budget. Lizabeth hoped that her friend wouldn't exaggerate the cost of repairs, making the situation difficult for Lizabeth because she wouldn't give Shirley the cat. It wasn't that big of a hole, and just how much money would it cost to fix?
Her small lunch and the long weekend made her tired. Initially, she thought to go to the hotel to check-in with Jane to see how she was holding up since Charles hadn't come to visit. But Lizabeth couldn't hold back her yawns most of the afternoon, so changed her mind and decided to go straight home after work.
Late in the afternoon, an older man came in. He appeared in his forties if Lizabeth had to guess, maybe even fifty. She realized how difficult it was to tell people's ages. His hair was dark, but his beard was salt and peppery; however, he looked far cleaner and neater than the other men who had been registering businesses. Mr. Johns was talkative but not flirtatious as so many of the others had been, and she felt comfortable talking to him as she explained the registration process.
Emboldened, she asked Mr. Johns what his company business was for. "Mining," he said. She noticed that when he smiled, he had wrinkles that appeared around his eyes. It didn't detract from his overall appearance. He wasn't handsome, or maybe he was too old for her to feel attracted to him. But something about his face made him seem positive, and his manner kind.
"Mining?" Lizabeth was confused.
Mr. Johns grinned. "Mining, yes! bit-coin mining."
She stared at him, even more confused. "How do you mine bit-coins? I've heard about them, aren't they electronic money? I don't understand how they work."
"Blockchains!" He grinned again with a look of knowing something that another does not.
Lizabeth thought he wasn't going to share. "Blockchains?" she prompted, hopeful.
"Each time someone uses bit-coins in a transaction, it becomes part of a public record in a blockchain that needs to be computed. We call that mining." Mr. Johns signed his name and pushed the clipboard back towards Lizabeth.
"So you're mining bit-coins," she said, more to herself than to the man.
"Yes," he said. Lizabeth passed him copies of his paperwork, and he left.
While she and Charlene often called each other (or even met for dinner) on Mondays, she didn't hear from her friend. She would need to weather this new awkwardness, though she hoped it didn't cool their friendship. Charlene was enamored with her boyfriend, and Lizabeth didn't want to insist on maintaining a routine merely because they had established one; she didn't think that was what friends did. But she hoped Charlene wouldn't drop her as a friend because she now had a boyfriend.
She fully expected her mother to call, but Dawn didn't reach out to nag or preach. Lizabeth crawled in bed soon after getting home and could only wonder when the other shoe would drop and what craziness her mother had up her sleeve.
On Tuesday, she arrived at the hotel bar after work and found Jane sitting at the counter. But then she heard a phone ring and watched her friend answer, her demeanor changing before she walked off to a far corner. Lizabeth didn't think Jane even noticed that she had arrived. Mary was at the piano and gestured with her head for her to sit close. Joe brought her a drink without having to ask.
"It's Charles," Mary remarked, glancing at Jane.
"I sort of wondered. I know that he didn't come up here as I ran into him when I was in LA." Lizabeth took a sip of the drink; it must be one of Joe's experimental cocktails. She made a face as it was very citrusy and didn't sit right on her tongue.
"You saw Charles on your trip?" Mary prompted.
"Yes," she nodded. Mary didn't say anything but had a question in her eyes. Lizabeth looked away from her friend's gaze. "I saw William while I was there," she offered, then took another experimental sip.
"Saw as in ran into unexpectedly or saw as in 'we dated?'" Mary asked.
"As in dated," she answered. Lizabeth looked up, thinking there would be questions or that Mary would begin to play the piano. She only saw curiosity in her friend's eyes.
"Interesting. I didn't see that coming," said Mary.
"Really?" Lizabeth frowned, trying to remember when Mary had last seen William Darcy. "Why?"
"I was watching that woman check you out that one day," she explained.
Lizabeth thought she blushed, at least her insides heated up. "Was Caroline checking me out? I guess I'm not as clued into that sort of thing. It was a rather emotional day for me, marriage proposal, and all."
"She kept it very low-key, but I noticed," Mary attested.
Lizabeth had a thought, and she couldn't help but ask, "are you interested…in her?"
Mary smiled. "No." Her head shook as though she was tired. Lizabeth felt a story was about to unfold and waited. They sat in silence for a few minutes while Mary reached down and ran her hands over the piano keys, but didn't play them. "I am asexual. I'm not interested in having sex with anyone."
"Oh." Lizabeth immediately bit her lower lip, wondering if that was insensitive. "I've not understood that term. Wait, that sounds bad. It's you we're talking about, not some generic group." Her stomach turned over. The acidic drink wasn't helping.
"People are perplexed about the term and me. Especially when I also say I can be very romantic," said Mary. She started to play.
"Romantic?" Lizabeth hoped she sounded encouraging and not nosy.
"Asexual means I don't feel sexually interested in anyone, women or men. But I do get crushes on people, and on both sexes. It puts me in a rather small group, don't you think?" Her eyes sparkled in a manner that Lizabeth had never seen before.
"I get it. I'm a romantic too. I think that's part of my problem. I let my desire for romance get in the way of my sexual expression." She looked from Mary to her drink, frowned, and pushed it away.
"Still an issue?" Mary didn't bring up Lizabeth's struggles in more explicit terms, for which she was thankful.
Lizabeth nodded. "I like William, more than I ever liked Ed. Maybe I just need to take the plunge and do it? I have these romantic ideals about my first time, and it's hard to give them up."
"The first time is likely to be awkward and make you look back with a grimace. Just get it over with, so you can get to the good times," Mary suggested.
"How can you give advice about…" Lizabeth's voice trailed off and looked around at who else was in the hotel bar. Joe was in his usual place, and there were a dozen people at the tables with a waitress serving them. No one was near.
"I told you. I'm a romantic, especially when I see other people in love. It's hard when I want romance but not sex. There aren't many people up for that sort of a relationship." Mary had her eyes on Lizabeth, though she kept playing as beautifully as ever. Lizabeth admired her skills.
"I like William. I hope he likes me."
"Why do you say that?" Mary asked.
"We had a date on Friday and Saturday," she began. "He…he asked me to stay, but I didn't want to. I haven't heard from him since."
"Have you called him?" Mary brought her brows together in a dramatic fashion.
"No," Lizabeth replied with surprise.
"This is the twenty-first century. You can call or text first if you want to," Mary admonished.
Mom, Lizabeth thought, ready to explain how crippled she had been under her mother's thumb. But then she owned up that this was not Mrs. Bennet's fault. Lizabeth had liked the idea of him calling first as it fit some romantic notion.
"Okay," she said. "I'll call or text." Lizabeth hunted in her purse for her phone. Voices made her look up and realize that the number of people in the bar had doubled since she first arrived. "Maybe not here, though." She put her phone back.
"Let me know how it goes. Especially if you two keep up the romance, warms my heart," said Mary with a sweet smile, which Lizabeth had never seen.
"I will," she agreed.
"Just fair warning," said Mary. She stopped playing and looked around at the occupants of the bar before catching Lizabeth's eyes. "Edgar has come back. The Spectre business guys were here last week, and he came for what appeared to be a business meeting. It may have been a one-off. Just wanted to let you know."
Lizabeth's jaw stiffened. She had no desire to see Ed if she could help it, but she also didn't wish to stop coming to see Mary or Jane. "I hope it was just a one-time thing and that he doesn't come back." Lizabeth stood. "Thanks, as always, for the advice."
"Any time," Mary remarked.
Once Kitty was fed and settled (having even let Lizabeth snuggle with her), she texted William. It was over forty-five minutes before she heard back from him.
Filmed all day yesterday. Reviewing our footage with Caroline who's back. Can I call tomorrow?
At least it was a response. William Darcy was a busy man and lived a hundred miles away. She was an hourly employee who had no responsibilities once she left work. That didn't mean her chest didn't crimp in disappointment.
Yes. You know my hours. She inserted a smiley face at the end, deleted it, put it back then finally texted him. William responded that he would call her after work the next day.
Lizabeth was faced with time before bed. Somehow, she didn't wish to read another romance novel. Instead, she did research about bit-coins. Electronic currency was confusing, and initially, she didn't find much helpful information.
Eventually, she stumbled across a website that explained it in simpler terms and allowed her to have a better grasp of how it worked. The reason those dozen or so men had set up businesses to mine was because of the potential to earn free coins. If they used their computers to help process the blockchain that Mr. Johns had mentioned (which was the public record of all transactions from one wallet to another in a bit-coin system), they might earn a reward of bit-coins for helping.
What made her frown was reading how much computing power it took to process the 'blockchain' and how unlikely the effort met with any reward. While the software used was open source, and anyone could lend the proverbial hand to process transactions (in this case a powerful computer), the rewards were few. But maybe the type of men who came in to set up their fictitious companies was the sort who gambled on such a thing as winning against strong odds?
Rather than continuing on this research thread, Lizabeth ended up looking up movies that starred Charles Lee, found one, and watched part of it before falling asleep.
Distracted the next day, she wasn't paying attention when someone came in to register to vote, and they had to shout at her. Then a couple came to apply for a marriage license, and Lizabeth was heads-down at her desk; they resorted to calling, "Is anybody here?" Doug Morris hadn't been in that morning to note that her mind was elsewhere or to help out as he often did. But the day dragged as she could only think about talking to William that evening.
Lizabeth was excited. She liked him and was attracted to him. The idea of being with him was growing and taking hold, becoming more reality, less fiction. She hoped that also meant that she was willing to handle the ups and downs that went with any relationship, such things even occurred with friendships. She had gone to the bar to talk to Jane, who had walked away and didn't return. (And Lizabeth knew she could catch her another day.) Surely such flexibility with a friend could be shown in a relationship too?
Shirley came by after lunch to take one last look at the damage to the wall before making her estimate about the repairs. The city council meeting was in a week, but she was required to submit her findings by the end of the day.
"Lots going on, down in my building," she quipped. "I get the idea that two factions are brewing about some deals. Two council members are on one side, three on the other, and neither sees eye-to-eye."
"Deals? That sounds underhanded like they're taking money on the side!" Lizabeth exclaimed.
"No! No!" Shirley insisted. "But there are some business deals about land that seem to have everyone expressing an opinion. Some members want to approve one, and others want to see the other come to fruition. There are people in and out all the time speaking to them about the pros and cons of their side. Almost like it was government or something!" She laughed heartily.
"Wow, I didn't realize we had such goings-on here in Merton. I thought it all ran smoothly. I guess even small-town governments have lobbyists and people with differing opinions. My friend Charlene's father was the town's last mayor before they changed the governing structure, but she's never talked about any issues he faced," said Lizabeth.
"Yeah, well, I don't think Mayor Lucas faced many issues," said Shirley. She was in her late thirties as much as Lizabeth could tell. Not as old as her parents, but she had probably been working for the city when Mr. Lucas was mayor. It seemed he wasn't the best at his job, perhaps that was why Merton changed its governing body.
The long day of work ended on a happier note as Judge Metcalfe came out to show Lizabeth new photos of Anthony, which she dutifully cooed over. She then powered down all the computers, turned out the lights, locked the doors, and headed home in anticipation of a phone call.
William Darcy didn't call until almost seven. Kitty was happy to see her, and Lizabeth fed and played with her cat, who playfully scolded her while they snuggled. She didn't risk attempting to make something to eat, but when it was far past six, she finally slapped some peanut butter on a slice of toast and devoured it.
In the ironic way things worked; she was walking down the hallway to use the bathroom when her phone rang. She had it in her pocket and answered it quickly.
"I apologize," William said straight away without even identifying himself. He must assume Lizabeth had his contact on her phone (she did). "My aunt called me an hour and a half ago. I just got her off the phone!" She could hear how frustrated he felt. Lizabeth was relieved that he hadn't put her off with some lame excuse. She walked to her room and crawled into bed.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No, well, yes. But not something for us to use our time over. But it does mean I have a great excuse to come to Merton since she lives in town."
"Not because I live here?" she pouted.
"And also because you're there," he said. Lizabeth thought he must have had a long day as he sounded tired, and it was a half-hearted response. He must also be exhausted if he had spent over an hour talking to his aunt; she wouldn't take offense to his not making her his priority for visiting Merton.
"How did filming go?" Lizabeth prompted.
William talked about the long day of filming on Monday. He had a college buddy who worked at the Observatory who had allowed them to do rehearsals unobtrusively even though technically they weren't allowed. "So long as we didn't get in anyone's way, we could do it. Besides, people love Hollywood and actors, and we were able to capitalize on that. They love to be spectators and say that they saw a film in action, even if we were just checking out the angles of the shots, that sort of thing, when we were there before."
"And Caroline came back, so you then had to look at what you'd filmed together?" she asked.
"Yes," he explained that process, of viewing the dailies and hoping that nothing would need to be re-filmed.
"Wow! I just work eight to five and come home to burn my dinner every day," she lamented.
"I have been working for many more years than you have; I've learned how to juggle it all," he explained. There was a long silence as though neither knew where to direct their conversation. Lizabeth felt awkward redirecting it back to her, but he seemed so wiped out that he didn't have much more to say.
"Um, you remember my mining dilemma?" she finally began. He murmured in agreement. "I've figured out what it's about," she continued. "It's about bit-coins."
"Bit-coins? Electronic currency?" She could hear the surprise in his voice.
"Yes. I didn't realize that they mined it, but that's what it's called." Lizabeth explained to William how mining for electronic currency worked. She also mentioned her viewpoint, that it was such a gamble for these men to be continually trying to compute these blockchains when their only reward was potentially receiving a bit-coin for their efforts (and only if they were the one single miner who successfully calculated a transaction).
"That's interesting. I wonder why they are all based in Merton, though?" he asked.
"I do too. I should have asked Mr. Johns what currency he was mining, shouldn't I?" There was another silence. Lizabeth could sense how worn-out William was, and she still had to visit the bathroom. "I think we've had enough time on the phone, and I haven't burned my dinner yet. But can we talk tomorrow?"
"Yes." He paused. "I may make it up there…no, scratch that. I don't want to make you any promises. I think Friday is the better bet than trying to get up there tomorrow. Good night, Lizabeth."
"Night," she said and hung up.
Thursday was slow, and Charlene canceled their lunch. But Lizabeth had expected that. Her friend indicated that the dentist's office was unusually busy, though Lizabeth thought that Charlene didn't want to discuss the weekend. They would be out in public, and it wasn't like they could discuss the more exciting details of Saturday night. But her friend didn't want to risk having to discuss not returning to the hotel room. Lizabeth weathered a long and boring day at work.
It was almost time to close up when the office phone rang. "Hi, it's William."
"Hi!" Lizabeth's voice was bright at the unexpected call.
"I have a favor, which is why I'm calling you at work. Can you look up some property for me?" he asked.
She frowned even though he couldn't see her response. "Um. No. Not while I'm on the clock," she explained. "I only have fifty minutes left in my day, but I have work to do. I can do your search for you during lunch tomorrow."
"Ah, I see." There was another of those pauses. She wished she could see him; their conversations on the phone hadn't been easy. Lizabeth attempted to allow for the fact that she wasn't one for talking on the phone, and that they both seemed distracted. Her generation wasn't one that used their phones for conversation. He continued, "If you could, that would be great. Download the files for me on a thumbdrive?"
"I can. It makes me recall how I first met you," she remarked.
"Yeah. I wasn't kind." Again silence whispered into her ear, not William's voice. "I'm sorry I was."
"Okay," Lizabeth responded. His apology seemed half-hearted. "Give me the details, and I will have the information for you tomorrow." He rattled off information which she dutifully wrote down, said goodbye, and hung up.
She had heard of the Goulding property. Most everyone who lived in town knew of it. Merton was a city developed along certain landscapes. There was a freeway that ran precisely east-west through town; another ran at about a forty-five-degree angle and formed what was mostly considered the western edge of town. While there had been some development on the other side of that freeway in the past twenty years, anything built there were the nether-lands, and usually referred to as West Merton.
But Merton proper sprawled east and north, especially in the past forty years. In the north-east corner of the city sat an undeveloped section of land, smack dab in the middle of all that growth—Old Man Goulding's property. Lizabeth knew about it because she lived on the eastern edge of town and often drove on a perimeter road, Meadow, to a huge shopping center just beyond it.
The property was ugly, with a chain length fence covered with barbed wire on top of it. Weeds grew inside and were only occasionally trimmed. Residents near it often complained that it was a fire hazard. There had been construction there years before. But the shells of those doomed buildings had been left behind to rust.
While she didn't look up the property details while on the clock, Lizabeth did some background research for William once home and called her aunt. Chrissie Gardiner had been born in the town and had a lot to share about Old Man William Goulding and his family tragedy, though the story was decades old.
Mr. Goulding was still living, though Aunt Chrissie wasn't sure where he lived or if he still lived in town. But his tragic story was that he and his only son had gotten into a huge fight. The son had left, and Old Man Goulding had shut out the world ever since. Mr. Goulding had shut down all work on the property, hired someone to build a fence around the place, and then hired a lawyer to deal with lawsuits over his breach of contract.
Chrissie didn't tell Lizabeth anything new; she had heard the story before. What she didn't know was that there had been two daughters who hadn't figured into the tale. Lizabeth wondered what had become of them. Aunt Chrissie didn't know any names or any real dates, other than it had been between thirty or forty years in the past, so the son (assuming he had been in his twenties at the time), must be at least fifty.
But now, Old Man Goulding was selling after multiple people had tried to get him to do just that since closing up the place. Private developers had their hands in bringing it back to life.
When William called, Lizabeth mentioned her small bit of research about Old Man Goulding. He indicated that he'd heard it before, though he thought there had only been one sister. He hoped that the property records would be helpful and would include the son or children's names.
"Why this sudden interest in the Goulding property?" she asked.
"It seems that the Merton City Council is considering approving the development. My aunt had development approved on her property at the January council meeting. Now there's talk about developing both, but I fear that may be too much for the city. She fears she will lose out," he explained.
"Oh! But does it matter since they already approved her land?" Lizabeth asked.
"It was conditional, and she didn't move as fast as she should with follow-up steps," he murmured. She heard him yawn. They discussed their days for a few minutes, but then hung up. It occurred to her that maybe he also didn't like talking on the phone. Maybe he was on his all day, or perhaps he was one of many people she knew who expressed disgust for using a cell phone for talking.
After she hung up, Lizabeth thought about having a relationship with a man who lived hundreds of miles away and didn't like to talk on the phone. Was it possible to be together?
Her kitchen was woefully under-stocked, but Lizabeth packed a lunch so she could stay in on Friday. She was one minute late, but Doug Morris wasn't there to complain. Lizabeth wondered if she should worry about her daily companion who wasn't a co-worker. Perhaps he had gotten an office finally, but maybe something had happened in his personal life, or he was sick?
After she locked the doors at noon, she did a title search (even before she ate), and looked at the Goulding property. The results were simple; it was currently owned by a trust—the William K. Goulding and David W. Goulding Trust. Searching back through the years, it had been owned by William L. Goulding, and William B. Goulding and William A. Goulding, who purchased it before California was even a state. The Goulding men seemed to enjoy long lifespans. She supposed Old Man Goulding had had enough of there being Williams in a long line of Williams that he had named his son David.
Lizabeth finally ate her lunch in the break room, and with the few minutes she had left did a few searches on the internet about the family. She discovered that there were several men with that name. William Golding, the novelist, kept being suggested by her search engine as the actual person she wanted, and Lizabeth had to insist that, no, she didn't want information about him.
Having middle initials helped a little, but she didn't have much time. There were a lot of David Gouldings. She figured that she and her own William…then she stopped and thought that William Darcy wasn't hers, she was merely distinguishing between the man she was researching, and the man she was anticipating having dinner with that evening.
A/N: today's WTF: this site won't let me use the word "bit-coin" edit 4/5, I had it spelled out with spaces, STILL doesn't pass sniff test! if all mashed together, so I had to hyphenate it as bit-coin, which is still readable. (Hopefully I caught all of the changes)
But I am thankful I do one last read-through after I upload just to check. Otherwise you'all would have been "what are you talking about?" when you kept reading COIN instead of BIT-COIN.
We've had a tremendous amount of rain in CA in the past two weeks which normally makes the news, but it also impinges on my long walks. Happy to hear most of you are doing well. Looking like June until we're released now?
My beta has been doing other things, so I will poke so she reads through the next week's stories so I can get them up. We have Ed and Mrs. B and Darcy all making appearances.
