Shirley, Goodness and Mercy (Angels Everywhere #4)(19)

Eventually he squatted down, touched his fingers to his lips and pressed them to the marble gravestone. A long moment passed before he stood up again, shoulders bent, head bowed, and silently walked away.

“Has anyone got a tissue?” Mercy wailed, and when no one responded, she threw herself against Goodness, wiping her face on her friend’s soft sleeve.

“Would you kindly stop?”

But Goodness sounded suspiciously tearful. Shirley, too, was having a hard time holding back her emotions. Seeing Greg like this, broken and defeated, was painful. She barely recognized him anymore. She didn’t know when it had happened or how, but she’d started to care about this man. Obviously Goodness and Mercy had also revised their feelings toward him.

“We’ve got to do something to help Greg!”

“We’re trying,” Shirley said.

“But he’s in bad shape.”

“I have a feeling it’s going to get worse,” Shirley whispered, fearing the future.

“Say it isn’t so.” Mercy wailed all the louder.

“His brother’s going to reject the loan, isn’t he?”

Shirley couldn’t imagine Phil making any other decision and said as much.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Goodness cried. “I think it’s time I got ready for choir practice again, don’t you?”

“Goodness, no!”

“I don’t care if Gabriel sends me back to singing with the heavenly host or even gate-keeping. Phil Bennett is about to get a piece of my mind.”

“Goodness,” Mercy gasped.

“What?”

“Goodness,” Shirley began. “You—”

“I’m going, too.” Mercy glanced at Shirley.

Shirley could see she had no choice. “Oh, all right, but we can’t all three join the choir.”

“Why not?” Mercy asked, rushing to catch up with Goodness.

Shirley shook her head in wonder, sure they’d be facing the wrath of Gabriel once again. She just hoped the sacrifice they were prepared to make on Greg Bennett’s behalf would turn out to be worth it.

“Phil, I swear you haven’t heard a word I’ve said all evening.”

Phil lowered the evening newspaper and looked at his wife. “What gives you that impression?”

Sandy threw back her head with a frustrated groan and returned to the kitchen.

Reluctantly Phil followed her. He should have known better than to try bluffing his way out of this. After all these years of marriage, there wasn’t much he could hide from Sandy. He was preoccupied, true. It had to do with his brother. His shiftless irresponsible no-good brother who’d once been everyone’s golden boy. Well, not anymore.

“Greg was in the bank this afternoon,” Phil told Sandy in a nonchalant voice, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

He had Sandy’s full attention now. “Did you talk to him?” She knew as well as he did that they hadn’t spoken since their mother’s funeral.

“No-o-o.” He shrugged and tried to look regretful. “Dave Hilaire was the one who dealt with him.”

“Greg’s applying for a loan?”

Phil replied with a somber nod, but he felt like jumping up and clicking his heels.

“I’ve been reading for weeks about the problems the wineries have been experiencing,” Sandy said thoughtfully. “It must be terrible to have some virus wipe out generations of work. From what I read, some vineyards were more badly hurt than others.”

“Greg’s vineyard is one of the worst hit,” Phil explained in the same grave voice.

“I wondered about Bennett Wines….”

“Me, too.” He did his best to sound sympathetic.

Sandy studied him, her eyes narrowed, and Phil struggled to hide his true sentiments. This virus, or something like it, was exactly what he’d been waiting for. Justice. Retribution. Revenge. Call it what you will. Phil had suspected that sometime or other, Greg would come crawling to him, asking for help. He’d anticipated that day, longed for it.

“Are you going to be able to get him the loan?”

“I…I don’t know,” Phil hedged. He could hardly admit that he’d wear thong underwear in public before he’d sign off on the money Greg needed.

“But you’ll do what you can?” Sandy gave him a hard look, and it was all he could do to meet her eyes.

“Of course,” he said, sounding as sincere as he could.

She sighed, then walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek. “Good. I’ve always hoped you two would put aside your differences.”

Phil hugged her rather than look her in the face. “I know.”

“You’re all Greg has in the way of close family.”

True, but that hadn’t made any difference to his brother, and Phil didn’t see why it should to him. Greg would come to him when he needed help and only because he needed help. So, any apology, any effort toward reconciliation, was tainted as far as Phil was concerned. Not that he intended to forgive his brother or had any interest in reconciling with him. It was too late for that. A just God would surely understand that some things were unforgivable. Wouldn’t He?

“Poor Greg,” Sandy whispered.

Oh, yes, and Greg wouldn’t know how truly poor he was until Phil had finished with him.