Time's Relative

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Time's Relative - book excerpt

Chapter One

New York City, September 14, 1998

“The beginning is the most important part of the work.”

Plato: “The Republic”

The job ad placed by a company called Virtual Software in Garden City sounded ideal. “Wanted: Computer literate individual with research skills and a background in history. Willing and able to travel extensively all expenses paid. Potential to earn six-figure income. Apply in person 9-3 September 14-15.”

The ad appeared in yesterday’s Sunday paper that she’d just picked up to read this morning. Today was September 14, and already someone might have been hired for the job.

Samantha Stewart circled the address in the ad in red. A month ago, she would never have contemplated looking through the New York Times for a new position. But that was before the breakup. Because of Peter, she couldn’t return to the small business library she’d called home for the last five years. He was the senior accountant of a firm that frequently used the reference books and databases of the Morgan Business Library.

Samantha frowned as she tapped the capped end of the red marker on her kitchen table. The sound as it struck the oak echoed staccato in the silence not unlike that of a breaking drumstick. The truth was that the end of her relationship with Peter Clark was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. She needed a change in her professional life. As much as she enjoyed her work, the Morgan Business Library was a dead end. Once you knew to which books to direct the patrons, the challenge was gone. The questions changed, but the answers were often the same. Then there was the technology situation. Sam had never been afraid of computers and had even welcomed the coming of the “Information Age.” All the more reason why she couldn’t stay at MBL. The constant fighting for funds and competition for grants left her frustrated and angry. Hell, the library was still using a 486. They had only one Internet connection. There was no room to grow but out.

Sam read the ad again. She certainly had the requirements. She was computer literate to the degree she didn’t need to use any of the “dummy” or “idiot” books. Her research skills had always been excellent, the main reason she’d chosen to major in library science after graduating with a history degree from the State University. Another plus, according to the ad. Then there was her willingness and ability to travel on someone else’s money. That was a definite incentive. Although Sam would hardly be considered a world traveler, she loved visiting new places and meeting new people. Like the plot of a good novel, there was something special about escaping the routine and changing one’s view. She’d been stuck in one place for too long. She yearned for the opportunity to get away that this job offered. And a six-income figure? What library position ever paid that? On the other hand, her cynical side warned her that the ad might be some sort of scam. Virtual Software? She’d never heard of it.

Samantha decided to Google the company on her computer. If her search didn’t turn up anything, then she’d resort to going to the Morgan library. She hadn’t been there since she quit in early August, and she wasn’t looking forward to running into Peter, or, worse, her replacement. She should’ve been smarter and done what all the career books advised and found a job before she quit her old one. Still, it was only herself she had to worry about. She amended that —herself and her cat, Holly. She looked down at the orange and white tabby she’d rescued from the North Shore Animal League two years ago right before Christmas, thus the name “Holly” for holidays. Some people said owners began to look like their pets after a certain amount of time spent together. She and Holly already looked alike with their red hair and green eyes. Both were petite with slender arms and legs.

“Oh, Holly,” Samantha said, picking up the cat who purred at her touch. “I can afford your cat food a little while longer on the money I’ve saved, but I think I have to start serious job hunting.”

The cat put out her orange paw and knocked the marker out of Sam’s hand. “I know you want to play,but Mommy has to think of our future.”

Sam went over to the computer she’d set up in the living room/den of her small apartment. Holly followed behind, jumping on the desk, and trotting over the keyboard. Above the desk hung framed photos of the cat done by Sam’s best friend, a professional photographer.

“Stop. I have work to do, Holly!”

The cat looked up with pleading green eyes and mouthed a meow that would break a cat lover’s heart.

“When I finish, we’ll play. I promise.”

The cat jumped down and stalked off. Minutes later, Sam heard the tossing of a fur mouse as Holly played by herself.

“Good girl. Keep yourself amused like you did when I worked full-time. You’ve become spoiled these last few weeks having me around as your playmate.”

Sam had considered getting Holly a companion cat, but her apartment was barely big enough for one cat, and she didn’t know if the very possessive Holly would take well to a new cat in her territory.

She logged onto the Internet and waited as the modem screeched out its connection. When Netscape opened, she searched Yahoo for any websites that matched “Virtual Software.” Her search yielded too many results, so she narrowed it to “Virtual Software” “Garden City.” To her surprise, one of the site matches seemed to hit the target. She clicked on the link for “Virtual Software Company, Garden City, New York” and was taken to the home page of the company.

Virtual Software had opened its doors two years ago. Specializing in mapping and travel-related software, the company showed a gross income of $16 million. Not bad, Samantha thought, clicking on the link labeled “staff.” Only two names were listed: Gregory Parsons and Jane Oldsfield. A brief biography and photo followed each.

Jane was the president and founder of the company. Her photo showed an attractive, dark-haired woman in her early to mid-thirties. Her biography read like a valedictorian’s resume: graduated Yale in ‘85 with dual bachelor’s degrees in physics and computer science; spent five years teaching both those subjects at MIT; spent another five years working as a research assistant and earning a Master’s degree in telecommunications technology from MIT; relocated to the North Shore of Long Island in ‘96 to start Virtual Software.

Samantha continued reading. Gregory Parsons’ bio was briefer but only a bit less noteworthy. The vice-president of Virtual Software had graduated from Stamford the same year Samantha received her degrees from Yale, but his undergraduate work had been in communications. He’d received a journalism degree before taking a job as an editor for a scientific journal called Science Professional. After five years, he, too, went back to school for a master’s degree in telecommunications from MIT. “And that’s where their paths must have crossed,” Samantha mused as she studied the photo of the bearded, sandy blond-haired man with dark blue eyes as fathomless as the ocean on a stormy night.

The rest of Virtual Software Company’s home page didn’t tell her much. The company had produced several award-winning programs but seemed to prefer to keep its name out of the news industry’s spotlight. Although its main office was based on Long Island, there were other offices scattered throughout the East Coast. The information was scantminimal, and Samantha decided to try to dig up more data before making an application with the company. As much as she dreaded it, she knew it would be worth a shot to check some of the sources at the Morgan Library. Disconnecting her Internet connection and shutting down her computer, Samantha prepared to take the short walk to the MLB. Holly slept on the couch, curled into an orange ball, having given up on playtime. Sam tiptoed quietly by her, but the cat’s sharp ears flattened even while her eyes remained shut.

It wasn’t quite noon yet on this second Monday of September, and, although the streets were already packed with noisy and foul-emitting city traffic, Samantha enjoyed the eight-block walk to the library. The touch of coolness on the air after the sweltering New York summer gave her steps a lift. Fall in the city was a wonderful time. But what if she were hired at this software company and sent off to do some of the advertised extensive travel? What city or town might she end up in to celebrate autumn? Samantha laughed at herself for her imagination. Even if the position hadn’t been filled yet, there would surely be plenty of competition for the promise of a six-figure income. Besides, after investigating the company further, she might find that the advertisement was a scam after all, or that the position just wasn’t for her.

Samantha was so deep in thought she was almost run down by a taxi that made a sharp turn after the walk sign hand came on. When she’d passed safely to the other side of the street and was within doors of the brick building that housed the Morgan Business Library, she continued her musings. It wasn’t as if she were about to accept the first job she was offered. In the past month, she’d been on several interviews. She’d been on the verge of accepting the NYPL’s offer, but something had made her decline. That same something seemed to spark her interest in the software company position.

Samantha stepped through the doorway of the library and into the ambience of a small private club. Dark wood-paneled walls lined with books surrounded her as one of her ex-co-workers, Derek Brand, approached. “Sam, my dear. How are you?”

“Okay for an unemployed single woman with a cat to support. How are you, Derek?”

The tall, lanky man with horn-rimmed glasses smiled, showing front teeth that should have had the attention of an orthodontist thirty years earlier. “I’m managing to survive without you, but it isn’t easy. Every time I go into the stacks, I picture you there.”

“Sorry to be such a heartbreaker,” she teased. Derek had been a good friend while she’d worked at MBL, but they both knew she’d had no romantic interest in him. He was a sweet, book-loving man in his early forties who still lived with his elderly widowed mother and a cocker spaniel named Shakespeare.

“Have they hired my replacement yet?” she asked.

“No one could replace you.” He mimicked a sniffle. “No. The budget’s so tight I think they’ll just add your workload to mine unless you’re ready to come back.”

“I don’t think so. In fact, I may have an interview tomorrow. That’s why I’m here. I need to do some research on a Long Island company called Virtual Software.”

“You know where to look,” Derek said, apparently reluctant to lend a hand in helping her gather information about a job that would make her termination at the Morgan Library permanent.

Before Samantha could reply, a man in a tailored gray business suit came up to the Reference Desk to ask Derek a question. Samantha slipped away toward the business resources.

Scouring the main directories, Samantha didn’t learn much more about Virtual Software than what she’d dug up on the Internet. However, when she did a name search for “Oldsfield, Jane” in the business and newspaper periodicals computer database, a recent article entitled “Software Company President Missing” appeared on the screen. Samantha hit the Enter Key to read the full text of the article which had been featured in the July 21 issue of the Long Island Newsday. A strange feeling overcame her as she read about the disappearance of “Ms. Jane Oldsfield, Yale graduate and president of Virtual Software, a Garden City-based producer of travel software.” The article was brief but more than enough to stir her librarian’s research instincts.

“Ms. Jane Oldsfield, a 33-year-old Yale and MIT graduate who is president/founder of Virtual Software, a Garden City-based producer of travel software, has been reported missing by Gregory Parsons, vice-president of the company. Parsons said that Oldsfield didn’t report to work on Monday morning, July 20, nor did she answer any phone calls to her house in Old Brookville. Upon further investigation by the Nassau County Police, it was determined that Oldsfield had vacated her home hurriedly, without taking any of her belongings, sometime during the weekend of July 18-19. Oldsfield, originally from the Boston area, doesn’t have any family that could be contacted. Parsons, who last saw her at work on Friday, July 17, commented that she’d seemed preoccupied by something, but he wouldn’t elaborate. “As long as I’ve known Jane since our days at MIT, she’s been a very private person,” he said. A continued search for Oldsfield’s whereabouts is planned by the Nassau County Police.”

Samantha was shocked. Something in Denmark was fishy. And, if she were smart, she’d get out of the water before one of those fish bit her. But, having gone this far, like the proverbial cat, she needed to satisfy her curiosity. She checked to see if there’d been any further follow-up articles on Jane Oldsfield’s disappearance. She wanted to know if the president of the company she was considering interviewing with had ever been found, and if so, had she been found alive?

“You sure look absorbed. Find anything interesting?” Derek was through helping the businessman and stood next to her computer. His nearness unnerved her.

“A few things, but you know me, I don’t quit until I find everything I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?” Derek’s myopic eyes squinted at the computer screen. She hoped he wasn’t actually reading the text. She could’ve sighed with relief when he glanced away at his multiple time-zone wristwatch before exclaiming, “Well, I’m going to lunch soon. I’ll leave you to your hunt unless you’d care to join me.”

“No thanks. Maybe next time.”

“Right. Well, good luck on your interview.”

He strode away toward his desk. Samantha continued reading. There was another article about Jane Oldsfield written a week later than the first, but this one didn’t solve the mystery. The headline read, “Virtual Software President is ‘Virtually’ Missing.”

Samantha was so intrigued by the story that she nearly disturbed the older gentleman at a table next to her when she began reading it aloud to herself.

“Ms. Jane Oldsfield, president of Virtual Software of Garden City, who disappeared early last week from her Old Brookville home, is still missing. The Nassau County Police have no leads. Oldsfield was reported missing on July 20 by her co-worker and vice-president of the travel software company, Greg Parsons.”

That was it. Samantha spent another half-hour trying to locate additional articles without any luck.

Before Derek returned and before her hunger cravings worsened or Peter dropped by for an unwelcome visit, Samantha decided to break for lunch to reevaluate what she’d learned so far. She left the library and walked home where she found a hungry animal waiting at the front door.

“Calm down, Holly,” she told the cat that was meowing pitifully for food. “You just ate a few hours ago. My gosh! If you keep this up, you’ll lose your figure.”

She opened a can of Friskies cat food and emptied that along with some dry Meow Mix into two cat bowls in her kitchen. Then she made herself a tuna sandwich on pita bread and took a seat at the table. It was hard to believe she’d first learned about Virtual Software only that morning in the paper and had already unraveled a mystery about one of the company’s officers. If the president of the company was still missing, then the vice-president was probably running the company and doing the interviewing for the advertised position. She thought of the photo of Greg Parsons that she’d seen on the Internet. The photo added nothing to the biography. Who was Greg Parsons? And who was Jane Oldsfield? More importantly, where was Jane Oldsfield? 

Chapter Two

“The past is a ghost, the future a dream. All we have is now.” Bill Cosby

Holly, having abandoned her cat food after a few nibbles, jumped on the kitchen table, eyeing the human morsels.

“Holly, what did I tell you about sitting on the table? I know you love tuna, but this is my food.”

The green eyes were mournful.

“Oh, here, you can have a little bit. I’m such a softy.” Samantha speared a piece of tuna with her fork and put it on a paper plate that she placed on the floor. The cat immediately jumped down and gobbled up the goodies.

Cats have such one-track minds, Samantha thought, Food, sleep, and play. If only life were that simple for people.

Before she could contemplate the advantages of being born feline as opposed to homosapien, Samantha’s phone rang. Getting up and answering it from the wall next to the refrigerator, she heard her friend Angie’s voice.

“Hey, Sam, can you come out and play? I was thinking of doing some shooting this afternoon at Washington Square Park. Then maybe we can grab a bite for dinner in the Village.”

Angela Palmer had been Sam’s friend since she’d first moved to the city nine years ago. Samantha had been working at the Queensborough Public Library then. They met when Angela came in for some photography books. A freelance photographer for several New York travel and entertainment magazines, Angie had left an unhappy home in Chicago for a better life in the “Big Apple.” She seemed to have found it or made it depending on how you looked at it. At twenty-nine, the blonde-haired photographer earned twice Samantha’s salary and was engaged to a doctor.

“Sure,” Sam said. “I just came back from MBL. I was doing some research on a company I might interview with.”

“Really.” Angie sounded curious. “Tell me all about it over dinner. Can you be at the park in an hour?”

“No problem. See you then, Angie.”

“Righto. Oh, by the way, Sam, you didn’t run into Peter, did you?”

“No, but I wasn’t disappointed.”

“Good girl. You’re finally getting over that bastard.”

“You always thought he was one, and you were right. How’s Mark?”

“Working twenty-five hours a day as usual, but I’m so busy getting ready for the wedding I don’t really mind. He’ll be taking off two weeks in November for our honeymoon. I can’t wait to get to the Islands. I’ve got to run, sweetie. See you at four. Bye.”

“Bye.”

At four o’clock, Sam sat on a bench looking at the still green leaves of the trees shading Washington Square Park. Angie was always notoriously late for all appointments. Sam, on the other hand, was always early. She’d been sitting on the bench since a quarter to four.

Surprises of all surprises, Angie appeared on time for once carrying her Nikon on her shoulder in her black camera bag. “Hey, Sam!”

“You’re early for you.”

Angie laughed, showing perfect white teeth. She pushed a strand of her long blonde hair away from her cheek and tilted her head to reposition her floppy bangs. “I’m really eager to hear about this new job. I also want to get some good snaps before it gets dark. I hate this time of year when daylight fades so early.”

“We have plenty of time till darkness. The clocks haven’t been turned back yet. They don’t do that until the end of October now. And, Angie, there is no new job yet. I saw an ad, and I might go on the interview.”

Angie zipped opened her camera case and handed the empty case to Sam as she set up her camera paraphernalia. “Sounds pretty serious to me when you’re already researching the company and even returned to MBL at the risk of running into Peter Perfect.”

Samantha laughed. Peter Perfect was the nickname Angie had given Peter because he was such a perfectionist and expected others to be also. “I always research everything, Angie, like you always photograph everything.”

Angie took some pictures of the trees and a couple kissing on a bench on the farther side of the park. She turned at that remark and snapped Samantha.

“Don’t do that!” Sam exclaimed. “You know I’m not photogenic.”

“You don’t have to be photogenic. You’re natural, Sam. I respect that. Mark’s that way, too. That’s why I’m marrying him. You don’t find too many natural people these days.”

Samantha changed the subject, fearing Angie would bring up Peter again or Roger, her ex-husband who’d put her in a hospital in Chicago before she’d left him less than a year after the marriage.

“So, where do you want to go to dinner, Miss Palmer?”

Angie snapped pictures of the pigeons tap dancing along the promenade. “I was thinking of one of the Internet cafes in the Village. They’re getting more popular now, and I’d love to see what it’s like to surf the net while I chow down.”

“Angie! I didn’t think you were into computers.”

“I have to be. Everyone has to be these days. I’ve even been thinking of taking some continuing ed classes in digital photography.”

“Sounds like a good idea. By the way, this company I’m thinking of interviewing with is a software company.”

Angie came over and joined Sam on the bench, lowering her camera to her lap. “Really? I thought you were a librarian.”

“I am. The position I’d be interviewing for involves research. The benefits sound great -- paid travel, six-figure income…”

“Wow! Where is this job? I’ll interview with you if you don’t mind the competition.”

“There’ll be plenty of competition. I’m sure of that. Even if I’m chosen, I don’t know if I’d take it. It might be a scam. It sounds too good. And, Angie, get this, the president of the company, a female Yale graduate, has been missing since July.”

Angie’s large blue eyes widened. “Oh, my gosh, Sam. I have to hear the rest. We’ll talk about me over dinner, boring wedding plans and stuff.”

Sam hesitated. Maybe she’d told her friend too much already. It was always bad luck to talk about a job before the interview. Nonsense. She wasn’t sure she wanted it; and a second opinion from someone as worldly astute as Angie, might be worth it. “Well,” she began, “there’s not so much to tell yet. I saw the ad in Sunday’s paper which I read this morning.”

“And you accuse me of procrastinating,” Angie said.

“I don’t accuse you of procrastinating. I accuse you of always being late. Today was a fluke.”

“How do you know? I may have turned over a new leaf. Talk about leaves …” Angie aimed her camera at the tree nearest their bench. “Wait until next month. I can’t wait to shoot the autumn leaves.”

“I thought you wanted to hear my story.”

“I sure do, and I’m listening. I’m also working, but I can do two things at once. I’m a great multi-tasker.”

Sam held back a laugh. “Well, this company, Virtual Software, produces travel software programs. They’re looking for someone with research skills and a history background to work in their research department. The job is supposed to involve a lot of travel.”

Angie took a cloth out of the pocket of her designer jeans and wiped the front of her camera lens. “Why history? What does that have to do with travel?”

“Lots. People who travel usually like to know the background of an area, and there are many historic sites all over the country -- and the world for that matter.”

“I don’t know. Sounds strange. What did you find out at the MBL?”