Dime Shrine

Bidding closed. Sold to number 417. Lot 293.

Lot 293 was a small red box. It contained 13 9x4 books bound in soft black leather. They were weathered - they looked to be at least 100 years old, with ruled pages and bearing the Moleskine brand. The details of this bid were strange. The lot was identified only by an image of the journals in the box. The starting price was $20,000. The seller was anonymous. And, perhaps the most interesting part, the money paid was to be donated to the buyer’s choice of charity or foundation. Bidder Number 417 was slender and petite, perched on a blue velvet chair at the auction house. She lowered her placard, smiled at the auctioneer, nodded at the other bidders, and gracefully rose to collect the red box.

The money was processed and the sale was complete.

Box in hand, number 417 made her way from the auction house basement to the stairs and up into the foyer. She paused at the door and set the box down. She breathed deeply, took her sunglasses from her pocket. She put her sunglasses on, adjusted her jacket picked up the box, and left. A black vehicle idled patiently out front. The driver opened the back door. She slid the red box across the back seat and followed beside it. The car hovered. She could feel the wheels as they tucked under the body. 100 years, she thought, what a different world it was now. Settled against the seat, she took another deep breath, excited with what lot 293 might uncover. The car rose gently into the lane of cars directly above. It slowly made its ascent into airspace. As they waited for clearance, she thought what a long time had passed since she had been back in this city. She marvelled at how beautiful the metropolis had become. So many happy memories made here. The black vehicle slowly made its way out of the city formerly known as Paris, out of the building limits, across the ocean; back home.

“We have about 2 hours till we reach the border, Argent. Just enough time to tuck into one of those books, you think?” She could see his eyes in the rearview mirror. She adored him.

“Yes! Shall I read it out loud?”

“No, no, no. Let those first words be private. Let it all sink in. This is yours to uncover. You’ll tell me all about it, which is the way I like it anyway.”

She smiled, scrunched up her nose, and threw open the lid. She ran her fingers over the books, to the bottom of each spine. They were numbered 1-12 in silver, except for one. The first book in the row had no number. She pulled out the exception from the sequence, it seemed not as old as the others. As she held the book, its cover facing her, she saw what she was hoping to see. At the bottom centre was a crest. A small, discreet silver sailboat that hung in a circle.

She brought the book to her heart. “I have found you,” she whispered gently.

Opening the front end page, the iconic Moleskine signature read :

In case of loss, please return to:

As a reward $:

Was filled in:

In case of loss please return to: One of the 12

As a reward $: My deepest gratitude and a single dime.

You have found the memoirs of the 12 and the story behind the dime shrine.

Taking a pause. She turns the page.

You have been searching for us. You will have noticed our symbol. You have seen it in strange places, you have discovered it hidden in logos. Our little, silver ship, hanging in a circle. It represents us, the dime shrine. This small book is just the start of the tale. The other 12 books will tell you about each one of the 12. As you will discover, they were just the first stones that started to change the world, the world that you now know. Those 12 created many ripples that reached across oceans and more importantly, generations.

You are one of those ripples, Argent.

She closed the book. Shocked, confused. Searching her memory. She looked to the mirror and caught his eyes. Louis winked.

“What do you know, Louis? Tell me!”

“Nope. You have quite a read ahead of you. It should not surprise you, Argent, that my mother loved mysteries and cat and mouse games. Keep reading,” he said with a smile.

It has been 3 years since Louis’ mother and Argent’s aunt had passed. She had lived a full, fun, and mysterious life.

Argent first noticed the silver sailboat on a chain hanging from her aunt’s neck. An old Canadian dime she was told. It had been carved out to form a delicate boat hanging in a thin circle.

Argent was raised by her aunt, whom she loved very much. Her aunt was wild, fun and generous. She had two boys, Louis and Christophe. They, like her, were full of intrigue and mischief. At dinner, her aunt loved to tell fantastical tales of her adventures. She was magical, bright, vibrant and so full of love, you felt like anything was possible when you were around her.

Her aunt had money. Argent never quite knew how she came into her money; but she and her cousins wanted for nothing. They could try anything; learn anything. They could undertake any adventure, and were encouraged to travel and experience the world. Argent’s aunt only had one stipulation: that they all had to give a year of service. She would decide what, where, and when that service would take place.

Argent’s two cousins, as mischievous as they were, were amazing humans. They had learned at an early age that money did not buy you the things that mattered.

Their year of service changed their lives. Now, they ran a farm together, each week giving produce to the community. Sometimes they bartered or exchanged, but they never accepted currency. The cousins loved their land. It connected them with the world, to the earth. Argent was always curious where they had done their year of service, but they never revealed this. She remembers them changed when they came back; grounded, radiant, just like her aunt.

On her 19th birthday, Argent’s aunt gifted her $20,000 dollars out of the blue. The money came with a catch, as it always does.

“You are part of something bigger than yourself, Argent,” her aunt said with a smile. “It is time. This is your year of service. This is all the money you will have. You are not allowed to make more than this. Included is a ticket where I have you placed. Remember what I have taught you. Money helps move things forward. That’s all. The only way to make big change is to give your money to those who will shape the world into something better. Love you. Be well. And love the world.”

Argent reopened the book. Looking now with fresh eyes, knowing the words she was reading were her aunt’s and were written just for her:

Argent, my darling! You will soon realise that you are part of a great web of change. I am sorry that I could not tell you in person. For a long time, you have had many questions, but the story was not mine to tell, till now. I needed you to start seeing the thread for yourself. The thread that ties so many things together. This is a fun almost unbelievable tale, Argent, but every word is true. Every adventure. Some tales you will even remember from dinner, and now you will have some context!

My mother was the creator of these books. She took it upon herself to chronicle the tales of her and her friends that made up the 12. After my mother’s death, I took her seat at the table and the commitment to carry on her work. This is now the seat that I pass down to you. Each one of the 12 holds a legacy. Each one had profound ideas to help the world to become more just, more vibrant, more alive then it was becoming. It is a tale of how with their money, they changed the world in enormous ways. It’s their personal heartbreaks and their joys. Money as they soon realized couldn't buy what they needed or wanted. It would not stop ageing. It could not bring loved ones back from the dead. It will not promise true love or make love last. Money, like I have always said Argent, can only move things forward. Give relief from poverty, untangle debt and give us freedom to pursue our dreams and full-fill our purpose in this life. The dime shrine started with them, and continues strong to this day. These books are our records and my hope is that you keep the work alive. Louis has all the instructions.

I love you dearly, I will love you forever.

P.S. Tell Louis and Christophe I have buried treasure for them at the edge of the Hardwood Forest. The coordinates and a little token for you is in the back pocket of this book.

She opened the book to the back. Peeled open the pocket, flipped it over and shook out the contents. A small envelope fell out followed by a chain. Attached to the chian, a charm of a small silver ship. She picked up the charm and rubbed it between her fingers. She had been searching for that necklace for the last three years. Every box, every drawer, she would wade through just in case. It was here in this book the whole time. A book she knew nothing about but waiting for her.

Argent bowed her head. The book sat silently on her lap. Bringing both her hands and the necklace to her face, she wept.

The story of the dime shrine begins with 50 dimes. One ticket. And 60 million dollars.