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I saw his face soften while sitting in front of Rosie, and although I am biased, if she can’t make him melt, then no one can. There is something about cute little girls that can pierce a man's heart right through. But Ben is not my friend, and I can’t get too close to him, even though my body betrays me each and every time we are together.
“Seen enough now?” I ask him, crossing my arms across my chest and raising my eyebrows. My attitude is firmly back in place, because I know that he is wasting my time. Waltzing in here, expecting to find out all our secrets. He is a total Neanderthal, just like I predicted at the bar. Although the thought of his hands around my waist has my skin tingling from the memory.
It has been a long time since a man touched my body, and even longer since I enjoyed it, so sue me if I have daydreamed about him over the past few days. Although seeing my ex at his office was what my nightmares are made of, and that moment brought back many horrible memories. It only reminded me why I prefer to just give men in suits a wide berth.
“You do amazing work here, Emily, but I do need to get back to the city. Walk me out.” As usual, it is an arrogant demand, not a polite request. I roll my eyes and call for Sarah in the classroom next door to keep watch of my students for five minutes as I walk Ben back down the hall, about ready to kick him out myself.
“You know, with ten million dollars, you can do a lot of good for those kids,” he says, almost accusing me of not putting their best interests first in this decision. It is his lame attempt to make me feel bad for not taking the money that was on offer.
“The school is old, but we have everything we need, and the kids are thriving. If we sold the school, of course, ten million would go a long way, but we would all have to move farther away to purchase another property that would be big enough for our needs, and then spend more time and money renovating it to get it just right. The whole process could take over two years, and what are these kids meant to do during that time? Then, after a short while, businessmen come knocking again, offering another ten million for the property so more condos can be built and it becomes an endless cycle? We’ve thought this over. It wasn’t a rash decision, Ben.” When he doesn’t say anything, I decide to throw in my own guilt trip.
“You know, if you would like to leave a donation to support their education, then please speak to Margaret at the front desk. She can organize that transaction for you.” I know it’s difficult for men like him to part with their money.
Selfish assholes.
I watch as his jaw clenches, clearly not pleased that I made such a suggestion, and we continue to walk down the hall. I don’t understand these men. Never have and never will. They have millions, literally millions of dollars in their bank accounts, and the thought of sharing some of that wealth with others less fortunate makes them irate. Sure, many of them do it for a tax write-off, just not many of them do it out of kindness. To help their fellow man. But spending it on penthouses, European vacations, or supermodel girlfriends seems perfectly reasonable.
We reach the foyer, and he stops, turning to look at me as he runs his hand through his dark hair and sighs.
“You're not going to take the offer, are you?” he says, and I shake my head.
“Not even if he offered twenty million?” he presses, and again, I shake my head.
“The kids have been here for years. This is a safe space for them; they are secure and happy and their learning for the past few years has been better than ever. To move them, no matter how seamless the logistics are, is only going to be detrimental to them and their families. We just can’t put them through it,” I say, making one final attempt to try to get him to understand.
He nods, although I can see his mind working, and I know I haven’t gotten him over the line.
“You know my client is not going to stop until he has the property. You need to prepare yourself for that.” Even though it is not threatening, it is a warning. I nod in understanding. George and I know this is not going to be an easy fight.
“See you around, Doubtfire,” he says, taking a few steps backward toward the door, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“See you, Neanderthal,” I reply, my lips matching his, before he steps out the door and gets into a shiny black Bentley that costs more than I earn in a year.
I shake my head, not sure what our next move should be, but hurry back down the hallway to my class. They are my priority.
* * *
I’m home in my tiny two-bedroom apartment, trying to resist the urge to throw the glass in my hand at the wall in frustration. I have just put Rosie to bed and opened my emails to catch up on some paperwork for another grant I am applying for, when I see a new email from Rothschild Law sitting in my inbox. They are asking George and me to attend another meeting in the city, this time with the mayor of our area joining us. No doubt, their client has waved a fat check in the mayor's face, and they are now using him to put the pressure on. I am not a fortune teller, but I can see him increasing our monthly property fees, taxes, and probably implementing some new law that we will now need to find the money for. If Mr. Beasley is paying the mayor to enforce new fees on our school to intimidate us or blackmail us, then it is a clear case for the anti-corruption watchdog. I may be an elementary school teacher, but I know slimy tactics by greedy businessmen when I see them, and Jonathan Beasley is exactly that.
My cell rings, George’s name lighting up the screen.
“Hi, George, did you get the email?” I ask, already knowing that he did.
“Looks like another trip into the city for us next week, Em. I will get Sarah to cover your class, assuming you are still willing to represent the school on this?” He sounds tired and stressed, and I hate that.
“You don’t even have to ask. You and the school have done so much for me; of course I will do whatever I can to keep it in your hands.”
“Alright, I will talk with you tomorrow to formulate a plan.”
“See you then,” I say and then hang up and flop back onto my sofa with a defeated sigh.
We both know that this is an uphill battle. Money and power win every time, and I am a testament to that fact. But I need to fight for George, just like he fought for me.
When I first met him and his wife Glenda at the women’s shelter, I knew we all had a connection, and clearly, they both felt it too. As volunteers, they ensured everyone was well looked after, but after they offered me a warm coffee, the three of us spoke for hours while Rosie slept beside me, and under the clause of confidentiality, I told them everything.
That night changed my life. It was the night I learned the importance of compassion and of helping one another. I was so worried about what I was going to do with my life and how I was going to support Rosie. But Glenda and George took us in. They turned their basement into a large studio apartment for us, and Glenda managed to get me a teacher’s diploma scholarship at the local community college. Because of my high grades in college, I was able to breeze through most of the formalities and finish it in record time.
From there, I was offered a position at the elementary school they owned, and when Glenda passed away last year, a little glimmer went out in my life as well. We were all heartbroken. Still are.
