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“I slipped from bed and padded toward the kitchen for mineral water, the marble cool beneath my feet. A faint ache throbbed behind my eyes—remnants of last night’s gala for Literacy Partners at Cipriani. It had been a glittering evening of black tuxedos and women who air-kissed without smudging lipstick. Champagne flowed like forgiveness. And I had been generous. Perhaps too generous. In a moment of theatrical bravado—half tipsy, half triumphant—I’d lifted my paddle and won the live auction: three weeks for two aboard the legendary Venice Simplon-Orient-Express. The room had applauded. I had smiled as though spontaneous extravagance were second nature.” — Yvonna Russell
I slipped from bed and padded toward the kitchen for mineral water, the marble cool beneath my feet. A faint ache throbbed behind my eyes—remnants of last night’s gala for Literacy Partners at Cipriani. It had been a glittering evening of black tuxedos and women who air-kissed without smudging lipstick. Champagne flowed like forgiveness.
And I had been generous.
Perhaps too generous.
In a moment of theatrical bravado—half tipsy, half triumphant—I’d lifted my paddle and won the live auction: three weeks for two aboard the legendary Venice Simplon-Orient-Express. The room had applauded. I had smiled as though spontaneous extravagance were second nature.