The Billionaire Band Director

Chapter 7

    Interview day.  Martha sat in Betsy’s town car going over her prepared answers to standard interview questions in her head.

    She had not intended to go to the interview in Betsy’s town car.  It had been a compromise.  At lunch after shopping, Betsy asked Martha where the newly purchased clothes should be delivered.  Betsy nearly chocked on her iced tea when Martha said they were staying at the motel.  Betsy immediately insisted that Martha and Josie “absolutely must” move in to her house.  While Josie loved the idea, Martha said no.  She said they were perfectly comfortable in the motel, that they did not want to impose, and that they would not be in town long.  She promised Betsy that if the interview went well and she got the job she would look for a more suitable living arrangement. 

    When they got back to Betsy’s house, Betsy noticed Martha’s car for the first time.  Betsy insisted on having her driver take Martha to the interview, reminding Martha that she already said no to moving in to the manor.  Martha capitulated.  It was an important interview, and Betsy had bought her an outfit to make a good first impression.  She did not want to ruin everything by showing up in an unacceptable car. 

    Later, when Martha and Josie got back to their motel room, Martha nearly called Betsy and cancelled everything.  The dresses they had tried on were in their room, along with every other piece of clothing that had been in their fitting room.  Martha did not trust herself to maintain a level tone if she called Betsy, so she sent a text instead.

    “I believe there has been a mistake at the store,” wrote Martha.  “They accidentally delivered all the clothing that Daisy pulled, instead of just the dresses we selected.”

    “O darling! No mistake- enjoy!” wrote Betsy, followed by three kissy face emojis.

    “Really, Grandmother, we don’t need all these.  Please, let me return them.”

    “No no, no returns allowed” Betsy texted back.  “Besides, Daisy just had baby and needs commission.  Help her out, ok darling?”  Winking face emoji.

    Martha sighed.  She wasn’t comfortable with Betsy spending so much on them, but she decided she would consider it a good deed.  By letting Betsy spoil them, she was helping Betsy alleviate some of her guilt for ignoring her granddaughter for 25 years and also helping a new mom. 

    The town car pulled up to the front of the school.  A stately woman opened the front door and approached the car.  Martha noticed that she was wearing a dress that had been in her dressing room at the boutique and was now hanging in her motel closet. Betsy knows what she’s doing, thought Martha.  Martha stepped out and smiled at the woman.

    “Hello.  I am Mary Kensington, the headmistress.  Welcome to George I Academy.”

    Although she spoke with an American accent, the precise diction gave her almost a British sounding tone.  That, coupled with the title of “headmistress” and the decidedly English name of the school made Martha want to curtsey.  She fought the urge and stuck out her hand instead.

    “Martha James,” said Martha, enunciating the hard “t” sound.  “I am delighted to be here.”

    Mary smiled and led her inside.  The building was as stately inside as it was on the outside.  Stone columns dotted the entry hall with tall arches in between.  Rich mahogany gave the room and old world warmth despite its cavernous size.  Mary walked down a hallway and Martha followed.  They ended up in an office with a large wooden desk and a massive fireplace.  Mary sat down in a leather chair in front of the fireplace and gestured for Martha to sit in the other.

    “I was so happy your grandmother called.  She is a dear friend of mine, and a dear friend of the academy as well.”

    Martha thought “dear friend” sounded a lot better than “donor.” 

    “I am so glad to hear that.  I have a lot of respect for your school,” said Martha.

    “But of course!” smiled Mary.  “I know your father just loved it here.”

    Martha controlled her surprise.  It was not shocking that her father would have attended the school.  It was very old and would have still been old when he was school aged, and it would not make sense for his parents to donate so much money to a school and not send their son there.

    Martha continued smiling. “I am sure he did.  Sadly, he died before I was born, so I was never able to hear his stories about it first hand.”

    I’ve never heard them at all, thought Martha, but Mary Kensington did not need to know that.

    The rest of the interview went well- almost too well.  Martha handed Mary her resume, since she had not applied in a traditional way and had not sent it in advance.  Mary glanced over it, but did not study it closely or ask any questions about it.  She asked Martha what she wanted to teach, given the option.  Martha spoke of her love for magical realism.  She was careful to focus on the value of the genre as an enriching cultural and academic experience for all kids instead of her own connection to its roots.  Mary seemed genuinely interested, asking appropriate questions that showed she was engaged the whole time.

    “Well, Martha,” said Mary.  “I can see that you are passionate about literature.  That is the kind of teacher we want here.  Sure, we attract a lot of highly credentialed academics who could get tenured positions at any college, but we try not the focus on prestige.”

    Martha appreciated the glimpse of honesty when Mary said they “try” not to focus on prestige.  It was clear, from everything around her and everything she had read about the school, that prestige was its oxygen. 

    “We want our students to have well-rounded, multicultural experiences from teachers who care.  We want people who are energized and can pass that energy on to the students.  In short, we want teachers like you.”

    Martha was certain that Mary would not be saying these things if Betsy had not donated so much to the school. Hell, she wouldn’t be allowed on school property if not for Betsy!  Still, even if Mary was just regurgitating modern teaching buzzwords and blowing smoke for a rich donor’s granddaughter, it was good to hear.  Martha really did value multiculturalism, and she really was passionate about literature.  Even if Mary didn’t believe in what she was saying, Martha did. 

    “Our fall semester starts in three weeks.  I know it is not a lot of notice, but if you are available we would love to have you teach here.  You can consider it a trial basis.”

    Martha used every last bit of will power she had to remain calm and professional.  This was it.  Her dream was coming true.  She would get to provide a safe, stable life for Josie while doing what she loved.  This was more than she could have every hoped for, and it was real.  Although the little voice in Martha’s head was screaming and dancing and doing back flips, Martha stayed calm.

    “Yes, Mary, I am available, and I would love to teach here.”