Free Hurricanes in Paradise by Denise Hildreth

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 year our graduation rate was 78 percent.”
    Riley couldn’t hide her shock. “You did that in two years?”
    “In two years,” she said as she scooped out some sweet potatoes and put them on her plate.
    Each woman began to sample a little bit of everything. Amid ooh s and aah s as they tasted the various delicacies, they shared their impressions of the resort and discussed the weather—specifically whether the tropical depression would disrupt their week.
    Finally Laine turned her attention to Tamyra. “So, Tamyra, right?”
    Riley watched as Tamyra lifted her glazed eyes to meet Laine’s. A softness fell across Laine’s face when she took Tamyra in. “Tell us about you.”
    Tamyra reached up and ran her fingers down the side of her glass. They pushed at the condensation until it made a clear puddle on the tablecloth below. “Not a lot to tell, honestly.”
    “Don’t let her fool you,” Winnie piped in. “This young woman is a beauty queen.”
    Tamyra turned her expressionless face to Winnie, then back to Laine. “I give up my title in two weeks.”
    Laine took a drink of her martini. “Happy?”
    “Ambivalent.”
    “Know what you’re going to do when it’s over?”
    Riley watched it all intently. Laine’s questions came with the fluidity of a friend at a standing weekly dinner.
    “Not sure what I’m going to do tomorrow, honestly.” Tamyra shifted in her seat as Derrick and another waiter began to remove the emptied appetizer plates from the table.
    “What would you like to do?” Laine pressed. Riley wasn’t sure how far she’d get.
    “Two months ago I could have told you,” Tamyra said, putting her fork down by her plate and looking straight at Laine. “But six weeks ago, I sold everything I had, retreated to a friend’s little bungalow in Cozumel and spent time reflecting on my life and my future. Then they moved back in and I wasn’t ready to go home. A friend told me about the Atlantis a while back, so I decided to give myself one more week away from home, and this is where I decided to spend it. Next Saturday I’ll go back home. And that is absolutely all I know today.”
    Riley moved her elbows from the table while they finished clearing the dishes to ready them for the main course. “You sold everything you had?”
    “Everything but what I could fit into a rental car, because I sold my car, too.”
    Now Riley had questions of her own. “How does a young woman like you make a decision like that?”
    “One day can change everything.”
    Winnie reached over and patted her hand. Riley could all but see her mothering rise to the surface. “Yes, it can. And it can all turn around in a day too.”
    Laine absently moved her notebook farther from her plate.
    Winnie didn’t miss it. “What do you write in there?”
    Laine turned toward Winnie, removing her gaze from Tamyra. “In here?” She patted her notebook.
    “Yeah.” Winnie scooted up as if she were about to get something worth delivering to the National Enquirer .
    “I write the details of what I see, the texture of the food, the ambience of the lighting, the feel of the room. My readers want to think they’re here. So I bring them here with my