Read Online Women Drinking Benedictine by Sharon Dilworth - Free Book Online

lunch.”
    They turned to Amber and nodded their approval.
    â€œI’ll make a reservation after breakfast,” Amber promised.
    â€œWhoever said money could not buy happiness does not know where to shop,” Sally clapped her hands—an Attr-ACTIVE woman, even here on the Côte d’Azur.
    â€œThe only dangerous food is wedding cake,” Jane said. They had heard this one before.
    A slight breeze passed over the table, and with it came a moment of silence. Amber looked at her friends and thought that only a Frenchman would say they looked like angels. They should stay in Antibes forever.
    The waiter arrived with their breakfast tray. And though the French have taken to buying their pastries and baguettes frozen and in bulk, the croissants at the women’s hotel were served fresh and warm. There was always plenty of butter. Plenty of jam. Plenty of preserves. Honey or clotted cream upon request.

This Month of Charity
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    C AROL’S STUDENT HAS FEW PROBLEMS with individual words—it is sentences that give him trouble. Donald, her fifty-four-year-old student, begins the new paragraph, reading just above a whisper, then stops before the end of the second line. The Detroit Public Library is busy with people checking out books, and Carol concentrates on the shuffling noise at the circulation desk rather than on the silence in front of her. Donald lowers his head and moves his finger across the page.
    â€œThere are fifteen words in this sentence. It’s too long.” He shows Carol the book as if she won’t believe his claim.
    â€œYou know the words,” Carol says again. This is their first night working together, and she tries to be patient, but Donald has been complaining about sentence length since they started. “Read it aloud. Slowly. Then you’ll understand what it means.”
    â€œAdults read to themselves,” Donald protests. “I don’t want to read like a beginner.”
    Carol knows that in ancient times only the most intelligent people could read without voicing the words. Julius Caesar was considered to be a genius because he read without moving his lips. Messengers would stare in awe as he read the news of the State—his mind understanding, his body not showing any struggle.
    Carol keeps her thoughts to herself. She does not like teaching people to read and knows her lack of enthusiasm makes her a less-than-average teacher. She only volunteered for the program because she is attracted to her next-door neighbor, Mitch, who is also doing volunteer work. She thought these nights of charity would bring them closer together. So far this has not happened.
    Donald asks if they can take a water break and Carol agrees. When they return to their table, Donald finishes the article and they discuss his understanding of the material. At nine o’clock they carry the books back to the special program desk. Carol takes out his file and records what they’ve read and how much progress she feels he’s made. His former reading teacher has made several notes, and Carol learns that Donald is serious about learning but easily distracted. He is also unusually talkative about his personal life.
    Once outside, Donald offers her a ride. It is late June and the sky is full of pastel pinks and blues. The sun, like the kids playing tag in the parking lot, is stalling nightfall.
    â€œMy friend’s here.” Carol points to the car parked in front of the library, where Mitch is waiting with his emergency lights flashing. Mitch has told her that he admires the way she cares about her students, and she wants him to see her talking with Donald.
    â€œI look forward to seeing you again.” She dawdles for a moment to impress Mitch.
    â€œThank you for your help,” Donald says. “You’re a very good teacher.”
    Carol blushes. No one has ever praised her for her work. She’s not certain she deserves it, but she’s pleased by the