Hurricanes in Paradise by Denise Hildreth (best ereader under 100 .TXT) 📗

do; personal contact, not so much. She waited for her to pick up Winnie’s hand and set it back by her plate. “Oh, honey. I can’t. I’m Baptist. I always talk about drinking but haven’t had a drop in my life.” She looked up at the waiter. “Do you have sweet tea by any chance, darlin’?”

“No, ma’am. We only have unsweetened tea.”

“You don’t get any more Southern than this unless you want to go to Cuba. You’d think sweet tea would be everywhere,” she said, pulling her hand back to her side of the table. Riley watched the muscles in Laine’s face relax. “I’ll have unsweetened. That’s fine. Sugar is sugar, right, ladies?” she said, picking up a packet from the sugar holder and waving it slightly.

Tamyra spoke next. “I’ll just stick with Perrier, thank you.”

“And thank you for the offer, Laine. Honestly,” Riley said. “But I think I’ll just have ice water, if you wouldn’t mind, Derrick.”

Derrick nodded his head and turned toward Laine.

“Like I said, Derrick. I’ll have a watermelon martini.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right back with your drinks, ladies.”

“Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about spending the evening with a bunch of lushes,” Laine said. The ladies laughed in unison. “So you’ve never had a drink in your life, Winnie?”

Winnie looked at Laine. “No, sugar. Not in all of my years. I’ve thought about becoming a sop a time or two, threatened my husband with it for most of my marriage.” She laughed softly. Riley watched her face. It shifted as if she was remembering. She shook her head slightly and her voice found its life again. “But no. It was against my religion for years. Now I just don’t do it because I’m trying to keep my streak going.”

Laine laughed. “Well, good for you, Mrs. Harris.”

Riley leaned back in her chair, almost grateful that she had been removed from being Laine’s sole conversationalist.

“My friends call me Winnie. And I would love to tell my friends that Laine Fulton is now among them if I could. So please call me Winnie.”

“Winnie it is.”

Derrick returned with their drinks, and Laine ordered without asking. “We’d like one of each, please.”

Derrick’s head popped back. “Do you mean of the main courses?”

“No, I mean we’d like one of each appetizer. Then give us a moment to loosen our belts. Then we’d like one of each of the main courses and a sampling of the sides. And when we’re about to bust, we’d like you to bring us one of each of the desserts.”

Riley could tell by Derrick’s expression he wished he were having dinner with them. He snapped his order book shut and raised both eyebrows. “One of each it is.” He retrieved the menus and went off to do something Riley guessed he had never done: order every item on the menu for one table.

Winnie laughed like a giddy schoolgirl. “I’ve always wanted to do that since I saw that movie Last Holiday. Only I didn’t want to have to be on death’s door to finally have the chutzpah to do it.”

“I’m glad I could make a dream come true and that you’re not dying, so you can actually enjoy it.”

“Plus, all you girls need to put some meat on your bones. I’ll enjoy just watching each of you eat.” Winnie raised her eyebrow at Riley but then quickly turned her attention back to Laine. “Have you ever been to Memphis, Laine? Best barbecue you’d ever eat. And Graceland.” She reached over and slapped Laine’s arm. “That’s what you should do. You should write something about Elvis. Then come on down to Nashville and write about the Grand Ole Opry, drink some sweet tea, go to the Loveless Café to eat biscuits like your mama makes.”

Riley watched Laine raise her eyebrows.

“Your mama doesn’t cook biscuits, baby?”

Laine chuckled softly.

“Baby girl, come down to Nashville and let old Winnie introduce you to living. Where are you from?”

“California.”

“Well, California is like another country. Come spend some time with me and you will be wearing rhinestones and singing ‘Rocky Top.’”

Riley saw the shift in Laine. It was evident she didn’t want to be the one answering questions. “What brought you here, Winnie? to Paradise Island?” Laine asked.

Winnie stirred sugar into her tea. “My children were bound and determined I needed to get away. My husband, Sam, died three years ago. He was sick the year before that. And I haven’t felt like traveling. They felt like it was time.” Her voice softened.

Riley spoke. “Well, we’re glad you’re here, Winnie. Tell Laine what you do.”

Winnie sipped her tea and crinkled her nose. “Just can’t make it happen this way.”

“Excuse me?” Laine said.

“The tea. You just can’t turn unsweet tea into sweet tea. I don’t care what they say.” She set her glass back down. “I’m a high school principal. I had retired when I was sixty-five. Then the school board called me two years ago and asked me to come out of retirement. I had been home a year without Sam and I needed to get out. And the students needed me.”

“I bet you’re great at it,” Riley assessed.

“You know, it’s my gift. I’ve learned through the years what I can and can’t do, and I can motivate people to see their potential. When I came in, it was the lowest-performing high school in the state. The No Child Left Behind program gave us two years to turn it around. When I arrived, they had a 67 percent dropout rate.”

Derrick and a couple waiters began to lay down the appetizers in front of them. But Laine wanted more of Winnie’s story. “What have you learned in the last two years?”

Winnie removed her eyes from the sweet potatoes they set in front of her. “I learned my babies were hungry. And a baby can’t learn when he’s hungry. So we make sure every child has breakfast, and then we fill each classroom with snacks. We feed their bodies so we can feed their brains. Last