Long Time Gone

Chapter 12

The next morning, I found myself knocking on Williams's bedroom door with The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan vinyl in my hands. It was early in the dusk and I was there to return the vinyl to its rightful owner before my anger get the best of me and I rip the album apart.

Williams swung opened the door, too sleepily to make out my figure standing in the hallway at such early hours. However, he did groggily said, mistaking me for a housemaid, "Eh!? What do you want!?"

"It's me, Williams."

"Oh! Elizabeth!" He was surely awaken now, for a smile adorned his face as he opened the door wider to welcome me in. "Why are you standing there? You must be so cold! Get in!"

"No, I'm fine. Actually, I was just here to return this vinyl to you." I handed him his belonging, and was about to turn to go to my bedroom when Williams stopped me.

"How was it?" He asked with obvious anticipation.

"How was what?"

"The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan."

"Oh!" I said with a realization, running my mind for a best reply, "Um-...it was fine... Not my usual cup of tea."

Williams chuckled, shaking his head, "Well, you have to get used to him, because Mr Vanderbilt is keen to get him hooked with Limelight Playhouse."

"Why is he so into Bob Dylan suddenly?" I questioned, annoyed. "Are my plays not enough?"

Williams reached out and gave my shoulder a firm shake. "It's not that deep, Elizabeth. Mr Vanderbilt's simply digging more fortune for his business. Besides, Auntie Shirley herself admitted she's fond of Dylan."

"Are you fond of Dylan?" I asked, expressively.

Williams widened his eyes, hunching his shoulders as if the answer was obvious. "Well, yes! I won't drop on someone who promises fortune and fame, you know?"

"Is that it? What about his music? Aren't you into that?" I pushed my question, eager to find Williams' true inclination towards Bob Dylan.

Williams tilted his head, a sudden embarrassment flashing on his features. "I usually don't care about his art as long as he's getting popular and rich."

I actually rolled my eyes at that statement. Such a people pleaser, golddigger this guy was, and I expected nothing less from him. Having no other thoughts to share, I bid Williams goodbye and rushed to my bedroom in order to get ready for the day.

For the follow up three months, the only valuable and argumentative discussion that was carried out in the Vanderbilt mansion regarded Bob Dylan and his probability for performing at Limelight Playhouse. Mr Vanderbilt had now reached out to Albert Grossman multiple times in hopes of getting hitched with Dylan, but unfortunately, Grossman rejected Mr Vanderbilt's proposal each time.

According to Grossman, Bob Dylan rarely had any spare time in his schedule where he could discuss any future arrangements with the Vanderbilt Theaters. This news threw Mr Vanderbilt off his usual cheerful mood, diminished his wife's hopes of meeting the singer, and crushed Williams' soul for not getting that promised fame and fortune.

On the other hand and on a less greedier side, I was unaffected by this news. Whether Limelight Playhouse gets hitched with Dylan or not, I couldn't care less. He was as insignificant to me as my long forgotten barn boots.

With everybody's mood hitting all time low now in the mansion, I decided to treat the three with a lavish dinner. Hence, I made arrangements at a Cuban restaurant and invited Mr and Mrs Vanderbilt, and Williams as my company. In turn, they were extremely happy, admitting how generous I was that I actually gave a thought to their depressive moods.