Page 34 of Maid for My Billionaire Boss
He stopped in front of a room that was filled with students about Josiah’s age but none of the students were sitting at a desk. They were spread out around the room, working at different stations on everything from building bridges out of wooden popsicle sticks, constructing robots, painting rocks and even a random student standing on his head against the wall. “This is our creativity lab,” Mr. Bran went on. “Every student has equal lab time to seat time daily to do self-directed projects. We have found it enticing to our students to be able to tell them, first we are going to learn about something, and then we are going to godoit.”
Josiah’s eyes fluttered around the room, and I could see a smile start to bud behind his tight lips.
“How much time did you say they spend in lab?” Atalie asked while her eyes also glided around the room.
“It works out to be fifty-fifty,” Mr. Bran replied, keeping her eye contact. “It sounds like a lot, but we have found test scores actually improve with less seat time when that seat time is swapped out for hands-on activities.”
“It makes sense,” I said. “I like being able to move around when I work. I would have the hardest time sitting all day.”
“Right.” Mr. Bran nodded in agreement. “As stewards of your child’s education, we put ourselves in their shoes with every decision we make. Our evaluations are unique in that most of the time teacher evaluations are an assessment of the teacher’s lectures and test scores. I, and the rest of my department heads, participate in the programs like a student would in order to fulfill our assessments. So, I will—several times a year—come in here to participate as a student would and I get to see it through their eyes. We have found it opens the door of communication between the student and the administrators when we work as peers. It’s a forward model of education with the best part being when the students enter high school, we swap out lab time for internships. They spend half of their time in the community applying what they have learned, while also researching potential interests.” His eyes rested on Josiah’s when he asked, “What do you think? Would you like to go to school here?”
Josiah’s eyes rounded out like he wasn’t sure what was going on, but before he could respond, Mr. Bran went on, “We have a three-year waiting list, and once your name comes up on the list, you are required to sit for an entrance exam which tests your critical thinking skills but . . .” He paused, looked over to me, before returning his focus to Josiah and winked. “We worked it out, and we will have a seat for you this fall if you choose to attend.”
Josiah’s gaze wavered between his mom and Mr. Bran, but he didn’t utter a sound. Atalie spoke up, “It’s fine to not decide right now, Bud. We will discuss it later, okay?” Josiah didn’t answer, he instead looked back into the lab room, an evident interest growing in the sparks of his eyes.
The bell rang, and all the students busied themselves with stowing away their materials, then headed down the hall to go outside. “We also have four outside recesses a day,” Mr. Bran explained as he looked at Josiah. “One between each period to give them plenty of fresh air.” Then he added, “Would you like to join them in their recess today? I can introduce you to my nephew who would love to show you the playground.”
Josiah’s eyes floated up to Atalie’s like he still wasn’t sure what was going on, but Atalie didn’t waste any time ushering him toward the mad rush of students outside the door. “Go outside. Have fun.” Her lips pulled into a smile as she watched him leave with Mr. Bran.
I was so charged with curiosity; I couldn’t wait any longer to know what Atalie was thinking. “What do you think?” I asked, “Isn’t it perfect for him?” She interlaced her fingers in front of her while keeping her head down, not meeting my enthusiasm. It was apparent she was purposely averting my gaze. My stomach immediately dropped, and I felt ill.I somehow messed up. I leaned forward. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”
“I can’t believe you would bring him here without talking to me about it first.” Her voice was soft and dithering. “Now he will have this expectation of building robots all day. There is no way I can afford something like this.”
“Oh.” Relief flooded my veins when I realized I had only messed up the communication part of the surprise. I tacked on quickly, “I forgot to tell you.Thatwas the surprise. I’m paying for it.”
Her lips pinched together, and she shook her head adamantly. “No, you are not. It’s way too much.”
“No, really.” I leaned forward, still trying to see her expression, but she tucked her chin down. I had no idea if I was making her uncomfortable or if she hated the school so I added casually, trying to make it sound like no big deal, “I donate so much money to this school every year that I should actually own a few of these scholarship students.” I chuckled at my joke, but her lips didn’t bend. I added in a softer tone. “I do really want to do this for him.”
“Why?” She looked up now, smacking her eyes with mine in a way that felt a little accusatory.
I nervously shuffled my feet and coddled out, “What do you mean, why?”
“I mean, why all the gifts?” She looked around the room like she was looking for the catch but when there wasn’t anything, she set her eyes back on me. “I don’t understand what this is about. It’s one thing to let me use your car, but Josiah is my son. I don’t know why you would bring him into this.”
I shrugged, not really understanding why her tone would be harsh when I expected her to be beaming with excitement. This was totally backfiring. All I was trying to do was make her like me. Realizing I took it too far, I played down my gestures. “Lots of companies give educational benefits. I thought it would be nice because he seems bored sitting at my house all day.”
Her lips parted but no words came out. Her tongue hovered her bottom lip before she closed her mouth back up, sealing her lips. She was clearly not going to say anything. I was trying to fix my mistake of taking her to the swamp, but now I was scared I had made things even worse with her. My nervous chatter button turned on, and my words just tumbled out, “Do you know why I moved back to New York?” I didn’t let her answer, and went on, “I had issues—a lot of issues—with staff. Everything from stealing, to leaking trade secrets, to general disrespect. I was over it. I needed to be with people I trusted. It left me disabled in my ability to even hire anyone. That’s the honest reason why my mom was the one who hired you. I had no confidence in my ability to read people. Lucky for me, she found you, but I messed up . . .” I paused, took a breath, and I mentally applied a filter to my words before I said something that was too much. “I shouldn’t have asked you to go to Indonesia with me. I was manic and I can’t believe I pushed you into it.”
“It worked out—” She tried to brush my comment away, but I cut her off.
“Barely.” I put my hand on her shoulder, squaring my face with hers. “I fully expected you to quit the moment we got home, and you had every right to because I was insane. You didn’t quit.” I let my gaze wander to the side, trying to be intentional with each word. “Then I saw you were exactly the person I needed. Your loyalty is worth everything to me, and I don’t care if you’re my maid, assistant or whatever you decide to do in my company. I want you to stay. I’m happy to do whatever it takes to show my appreciation because if there is one thing I have learned, it’s that the most important thing anyone can ever give you is their loyalty.”
In my head, my grandiose speech won her over. However, when she did finally manage to pull her eyes back to meet mine, I could still see a layer of skepticism revealing, although she had earned my trust, I still had a way to go in earning hers’. Blame it on the swamp thing—possibly—I was okay with that because I was willing to be patient. “Sooo,” I drug out the word to make it a full sentence. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking,” she started, letting her words trickle out slowly. “It’s very generous of you. I just hope you are not messing with my son because I will kill you if I find out you are.”
I sputtered out a laugh, but when she didn’t even smile, I held up a finger like I understood her point. “Right. Your pointy shoe.”
That finally earned me the smile I was craving, and as soon as I saw it, my heart swelled. I hadn’t realized how tense this interaction was for me, but I felt my shoulders relax now. “Should we check on Josiah or do you want me to show you how to steal chocolate milk from the kitchen?”
“I may be loyal”—Her face held an air of teasing again— “But I will not be your accomplice in crime.”
“It was a test,” I retorted, “that you clearly passed.” My smile consumed my face as I started to walk forward, saying, “Let’s go get Josiah and grab some lunch.” Then I tacked on, “That I willpayfor.”
Eighteen
Atalie
