One Weekend with the Billionaire Chapter 13

*Julia*

Today has been a different day than most. Almost every day of my life is exactly the same as the last day, so it is odd that I have broken from that norm. I ate my husband’s breakfast. I took a shower and fixed my hair, even putting on a little makeup. I put on a nice outfit, as if I had someplace to go. I didn’t. But for some reason, I felt a little more valuable than I had in a while, and I guess Braxton Merriweather had something to do with that, even if he doesn’t know it.

Even though I look nicer than normal and had eaten better than on an average day, I still have chores to do. I am washing the dishes when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, but I decide to answer anyway, something unusual for me. I think I may as well keep up this unusual day with an unusual telephone conversation.

I had no idea at the time just how right I would be.

“Hello?” I say as I drop my sponge into the sink and dry my hands, nestling the phone between my neck and my shoulder.

“Hello. Is this Mrs. Thompson?” a female voice asks.

“Yes, this is Julia Thompson,” I say, curious as to whom I’m speaking to. Her voice sounds familiar. I think I know who it is.

“This is Cindy from Merriweather and Associates. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No, not at all.” Now, I am very curious as to what is going on. “How are you?”

“Good, thank you for asking. We were wondering if you might be able to come to the office for a bit today. Mr. Merriweather would like to speak to you.”

I freeze. Had she said Mr. Merriweather? What in the world could he want to speak to me about? “Y-yes,” I stammer. “It’s just… my husband might not understand why I’m there.” In all honesty, I am afraid Jeff will be angry that I am at his office. He doesn’t like for me to leave the house at all except to go to the grocery store, so I can only imagine how furious he’ll be when he finds out I’m there.

“I assure you, your husband knows we are expecting you and understands,” Cindy says in that confident voice. “I can send a car to get you. Will you be ready in an hour?”

I hesitate again. If it’s true that Jeff knows I am expected and has agreed to let me come, then I can’t imagine a reason why I should say no. Unless, of course, Jeff is only saying yes because he feels pressured to do so by his boss. I hope that I am making the right choice. “Yes, I can be ready in an hour.” I think about what I might wear. I am already wearing something nicer than usual, but if I’m truly about to visit with Mr. Merriweather, I should put on a dress. And heels. And more makeup….

“Wonderful. Mr. Springer will be your escort. He’ll be there around 1:00.”

I look at the clock. It’s just past noon. “Thank you, Cindy,” I say, and she is about to hang up when it occurs to me there is an obvious question I have not asked yet. “Cindy, may I ask what this is in regards to?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the details,” the other woman says. “But Mr. Merriweather will explain it all to you once you arrive.”

Her tone is cheerful, and I have no reason to think it is anything horrible, so I say, “All right then. Thank you.”

“Thank you, dear. See you soon.”

Cindy hangs up, and so do I. I hold the phone for a moment, trying to figure out what this could possibly be about. There’s no way I can guess. I decided to hurry and finish the dishes because I will have to do them one way or another. Then, I rush off to the bedroom to find a suitable dress. Jeff’s words about my cleavage are fresh in my mind as I survey my closet. I need a dress with a higher neckline.

I decide on a nice burgundy dress my mother sent to me for my birthday last year. It isn’t too short with a hem that goes just below my knees, and the collar is a nice U-neck. The color looks good on me. It’s not fancy enough for a party like the one we went to the night before, but it will do just fine for a meeting in an office, I suppose. Of course, this dress probably cost less than the change Braxton Merriweather has in his pocket after lunch….

Putting thoughts of his wealth aside, I get dressed, put on some earrings, fix my hair a little, and put on makeup that’s more appropriate for an evening event. I spray a little perfume and admire myself in the mirror the best I can since Jeff won’t allow a full-length mirror. He says it will make me too vain, and I am already vain enough, in his determination.

Satisfied that I look good, I grab the same pocketbook I used the night before and go out to tidy up a little while I wait for Mr. Springer. I am nervous--or should I say anxious--to hear what Mr. Merriweather has to say. I have no idea what it could be. But he was so kind the night before, I can’t imagine it’s anything detrimental.

A little past 1:00, there is a knock on the door, and I go to answer it. “Mrs. Thompson,” Mr. Springer says with a broad smile.

I smile back at him. “Hello, Mr. Springer,” I say, making sure I have my phone and keys.

“You look lovely,” he says to me.

“Thank you.” I feel a bit awkward. He is just being polite, but having no idea why I am going to the office, I don’t know what to say in response, so I say nothing more.

“Shall we?”

I nod and lock the apartment before following him to the elevator. I am about to explain to him that Jeff doesn’t allow me to take the elevator when I realized how ridiculous that sounds. I follow him into the lift, and he presses the button for the lobby.

I draw in a deep breath, and he smiles at me. “It’ll be fine, I assure you,” he says.

I nod, but I don’t bother to ask him what this is all about because I already know he won’t tell me.

Once the elevator stops, we get out and cross the lobby floor. Stepping outside, I see that the car Mr. Merriweather has sent is a limo, and once again, I am trying to catch my breath.

Mr. Springer laughs at my reaction, and the driver opens the door for me. “After you, Mrs. Thompson,” Mr. Springer says.

I slide inside, wondering what in the world is going on. Even though I can’t figure out why Mr. Merriweather wants to see me, I am going to enjoy this moment. Something tells me I will remember this ride for the rest of my days, even if I live to be a hundred and two!