Carry the Light by Delia Parr Page A

her three bags on the counter, picked up the box and carried it back to the counter. “Do you have a preference? Or can I just split what’s here and add them to what I bought for you?”
    â€œBut we brought them for Dorothy,” Madeline protested.
    Charlene cocked a brow. “Aunt Dorothy isn’t supposed to eat donuts at all, let alone this many.”
    Madeline leaned toward Aunt Dorothy and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Is she always so bossy?”
    Annie leaned forward, too. “She’s not bossy. She’s sweet. She’s just trying to help keep Dorothy on her diet.”
    â€œWhy?” Madeline countered, continuing the conversation as if Charlene could not hear them. “Dorothy hasn’t kept to her diet for years.”
    Aunt Dorothy patted each of her friends’ arms. “Make Charlene happy and take the donuts home. But take a good look first. There are three bags on the counter,” she pointed out. “One for you both and one for me. And if I know my Charlene as well as I think I do, she’s got a couple of jelly donuts in my bag.”
    When the three women looked over at the counter, Charlene pretended she hadn’t heard a word.
    â€œJust split the leftover donuts however you like,” Aunt Dorothy said. “There’s some plastic wrap and aluminum foil in the drawer.”
    Charlene made quick work of wrapping and labeling the leftover donuts, and added them to Annie’s and Madeline’s bags from McAllister’s, fully aware that all three women were watching her carefully. She hesitated for a moment before she opened the bag she had brought home for Aunt Dorothy. “I’ll wrap up each of your jelly donuts individually,” she said.
    Aunt Dorothy grinned at her friends. “See? I told you I know my Charlene.”
    â€œAnd I’m getting to know you,” Charlene murmured to herself. She removed Aunt Dorothy’s jelly donuts from the bag, wrapped them, labeled them and placed them on opposite sides of the freezer, tucked among other foods. She grinned. Even if Aunt Dorothy found one jelly donut, her sugar level might be down a bit by the time she found the other, which had purposely been mismarked.

Chapter Ten
    I f the first full weekend Ellie had spent living with her mother had tried and tested her patience, she was unexpectedly rewarded twofold on Monday morning.
    First, her mother’s closest friend, Phyllis Kennedy, showed up at Ellie’s house to spend the whole day, easing Ellie’s concerns about leaving her mother alone before the Total Care system was fully put in place later in the week.
    Her second reward came at work.
    She arrived at seven-thirty, went straight to the sign-in sheet, skimmed the other names and smiled. Even running late—she’d taken her morning walk a little slower for Charlene—she was still a Welleswood Wonk.
    â€œAnd proud of it,” she murmured, embracing the derogatory title given to her and five other experienced teachers who always reported to work early.
    The name had been coined by a group of nontenured teachers who were referred to, in turn, as the Welleswood Wonders. The four young teachers had the arrogance to presume they already knew all there was to know about teaching. To add insult to injury, the Welleswood Wonders dressed like they were headed to an afternoon barbecue, wearing flip-flops and Capri pants, instead of to a professional day in the classroom.
    Operating at full speed, Ellie turned to leave the office and nearly bumped into her supervisor.
    â€œMr. Pepperidge! I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.” She backed up a step.
    He glanced down at her over the rim of his half glasses. Half the faculty joked that those spectacles were super-glued to the end of his nose. Ellie was among the other half, who respected Nate Pepperidge as both a scholar and a gentleman, and she refused to link his name with a joke of any