Shirley, Goodness and Mercy (Angels Everywhere #4)(13)

In an outburst of anger he crumpled the letter and tossed it in the wastebasket. Still not satisfied, he swept his arm across the desktop, knocking everything onto the carpet. His chest heaving, he buried his face in both hands.

The Christmas spirit had infected Phil Bennett. He hummed along to “Silent Night,” which played on the bedroom radio, as he changed out of his business suit on Wednesday evening. Some people liked secular Christmas music the best, but Phil preferred the carols.

“You certainly seem to be in a good mood this evening,” his wife remarked when he joined her in the kitchen for dinner. Sandy had grown a little thick through the waist over the past decade, but then, so had he. They’d been married for more than thirty years and raised three daughters and now they were both looking forward to retiring. The previous year, Phil and Sandy had purchased property in Arizona and planned to build in a retirement community, together with their best friends. It wouldn’t be long now before the only real commuting he’d do would be on a par-three golf course.

“What makes you so happy?” Sandy asked as she brought a platter of meat loaf to the small kitchen table. With the children grown and on their own, Phil and Sandy had taken to eating their meals in the kitchen, instead of the dining room.

“I don’t know,” Phil said, carrying over the tossed green salad. When she wasn’t looking, he removed a sliced cucumber and munched on it.

“Well, then, I’m glad to see you’ve got the spirit of the season,” Sandy said absently as she placed a bowl of steaming scalloped potatoes on a trivet.

“I do indeed,” Phil murmured, even though it wasn’t Christmas that had made him so cheerful. Actually, Christmas had very little to do with it, but he wasn’t telling his wife that.

Once Sandy found out that his glee was entirely because of what he’d learned about his brother’s financial woes, she was sure to lecture him. And Phil was in too fine a mood to be chastised.

Word had reached him that afternoon of Greg’s numerous attempts to obtain financing for Bennett Wines. It did his heart good to learn that his ungrateful arrogant younger brother was about to receive the justice he so amply deserved.

“You’re going to choir practice tonight, aren’t you?” Sandy asked as she pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.

Caught up in his own thoughts, Phil didn’t hear her right away. “Choir practice?” he repeated as he helped himself to a warm-from-the-oven biscuit.

“Phil!”

“Of course I’m going.”

She relaxed. “Good. We need all the practice we can get.”

Phil had recently joined the choir. It was his way of being part of the church community and contributing to the service.

So far, he knew only a few of the other choir members by name, but he’d know them all soon enough, especially now that they were meeting three nights a week to prepare for the Christmas cantata.

Unlike his brother, Phil was personable and generous—if he did say so himself. Plus, he had a reasonably pleasant singing voice. Greg didn’t. Oh, his younger brother had certain talents, no question. He’d made Bennett Wines a respected label, well-known to wine cognoscenti. He had a single-minded focus that had led to his success. He could be charming when it was to his advantage.

And he was a ruthless bastard.

Phil had been waiting years for his brother to get what was coming to him. Years. The troubles currently plaguing California’s wine industry had dominated the local news channels for weeks. Fan leaf virus was causing the ruin of many vineyards, and of course, Phil had wondered about Greg. But he hadn’t heard anything definite until that very day. What he’d learned made him eager to sing.

After all these years, it was payback time. Greg had deserted a woman in need; Phil hadn’t known Catherine well, but he’d liked her…and he’d heard rumors about a pregnancy. Then, perhaps worst of all, Greg had ignored his own mother on her deathbed, and when Phil had confronted him, he hadn’t shown any genuine remorse.

Naturally, because of his religious beliefs, Phil tried not to hate his brother. He was willing to admit, though, that he felt strongly antagonistic toward Greg, not to mention gleeful about his financial woes.

He hadn’t missed the fact that the one place Greg hadn’t come to apply for a loan was Pacific Union. A wise decision. Given the opportunity, Phil would have relished personally refusing his brother’s application. More than that, he’d done everything he could to make sure Greg didn’t obtain funding. Actually, he’d handled that situation in a pretty clever way. He’d sent word through the banking community that when an application came to them from Bennett Wines, no one was to accept it. He’d given the impression that he’d be the one helping his brother.

If Sandy learned about this, she’d be furious. She’d accuse him of sabotaging Greg’s business, but that wasn’t how Phil viewed it. All he’d done was make sure Greg didn’t get anything he didn’t deserve. It’d probably be the first time, too. From childhood on, Greg had been the favored son. His fascination with that damned vineyard had guaranteed his special position with their father. And perhaps because he was the youngest, Greg had been coddled by their mother.

Even when she was dying, she’d made excuses for him. It was now ten years since they’d buried their mother, and every time Phil thought about the funeral, the fury he still felt toward his brother threatened to consume him.