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I swore I’d be on time.
“Please, Claire, whatever you do, don’t be late. He’s a busy man and his time is precious.”
She called me again last night when I got home from the shelter. Reeling from my time there, I opened a bottle of wine and swayed around my living room to music because why not, while burning sage…because why not?
I wasn’t using Mama’s solution to kill the bad energy from the shelter. There wasn’t any. Swirling the burning stick, I was determined to cast my own doubts aside.
“I’m a busy woman.Mytime is precious,” I retorted, putting my wine down.
It was a lie. I was drinking wine from a cup, in nothing but an oversized t-shirt.
Nora took a deep breath, and I knew she was biting her tongue. “Mr. Williams has worked with the foundation for a long time, and he has put a lot of money into the shelter. I mean, he funded the entire thing, Claire.”
Okay, so he was important. I got it.
“You are both going to work closely together, so you need to be on time. And for the love of God, keep your mouth shut.”
I clenched the phone a little tighter to my ear. “What’s that supposed to mean? He wants a meeting with me. I’m assuming I’m allowed to speak.”
“Yes, dear, I know. Look, he can come across as abrupt. Especially to those, he doesn’t know. He’s a complete sweetheart when you get to know him, but I know how you are. You like to speak your mind. Just don’t take offense.”
I stayed silent, unsure of what to say. She was right. I would never let some old, overweight, greyed haired man in a suit talk down to me.
But for Nora, and the women in the shelter, I could try to hold it back.
I wouldreallytry.
Nora spoke again before I could reply. “This is important. You two need to get along with each other.”
“Ugh,” I grunted. “Fine. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
She only made me more nervous to meet him.
But Mr. William’s secretary called this morning, informing me he could not attend dinner, and he freed some time in his schedule for this afternoon. I could meet with him at his offices in JW Media.
How kind.
I don’t know what happened. I woke at my usual time and went for a run. I even popped into the shelter again to get to know some more of the women. I wanted my face to be familiar to them before I start on Monday. When I arrived, a young woman was on her way from another local shelter. I wanted to stick around. It’s a scary situation, and honestly, a part of me wanted to prepare myself for what was to come. Bruises marred her youthful face, purple swelling around her eyes. But I needed the wake-up call. My time there isn’t going to be coffee and chats like yesterday. The reality I’m facing is much bleaker.
I left with plenty of time to spare, showered and dressed without panic. I even unpacked the last of my boxes.
But I underestimated city traffic, and now I’m sweaty, anxious, and slightly annoyed, because when I called the secretary to explain why I was late, she didn’t even attempt to show understanding.
“Mr. Williams is a busy man. He won’t wait for you all day.”
They should put that on his headstone.
Mr. Williams.
He was a busy man.
“I understand. I’m not expecting him to wait all day. Can you simply explain I’ll be ten minutes late?” I huffed, hoping she believed my lie. I’m going to be at least twenty minutes late, but she didn’t need to know that.
I’ve done well—all things considered. After checking in at the lobby, an elevator took me to the thirty-third floor.
I try my best to fix my running mascara and wild hair, to no avail.
I arrive within fifteen minutes. Still later than I told the secretary I’d be, but five minutes earlier than I promised myself.
