Where Angels Go (Angels Everywhere #6)(37)

He nodded. Her memory wasn’t the problem in this instance; Rosalie was just plain excited. Chattering incessantly was something Rosalie did when she was happy. And although Harry wasn’t constantly talking about his daughters’ visit, he felt the same joy. It’d been a lot of years since their two girls had spent Christmas with them. The whole family would be together. According to Dr. Snellgrove, this would be his last Christmas on earth, and for Rosalie’s sake, he wanted it to be a good one; having their daughters with them would ensure that.

“The girls don’t want you to worry about cooking,” Harry reminded his wife. There’d been two or three conversations that very day between his daughters and Rosalie. Lorraine had insisted on ordering a special ham for their Christmas dinner and would be bringing it with her. Donna had a scalloped potato recipe she planned to make. As for the other side dishes, apparently their daughters were taking care of those, as well. And Rosalie was baking the family’s favorite pie for Christmas Day dessert.

Although the menu had long been determined, his wife spent hours poring over cookbooks. Harry didn’t know why. But seeing her this involved raised his own spirits.

She hadn’t mentioned the appearance of the angel. Not since he’d told her about it. Afterward, Harry had done quite a bit of thinking. That angel had been real. As real as Rosalie. Most important, she’d been there, at his side. Harry would never have made it back to bed without her.

That led him to remember again what the young doctor had told him. Anytime, Dr. Snellgrove had said. Death was getting close. Harry could feel it. Every day he seemed to grow weaker. Every day it became more difficult to accomplish even the simplest and most mundane tasks, such as dressing and shaving. When he’d finished brushing his teeth, he was nearly too weak to stand.

“I thought I’d bake cinnamon rolls for breakfast Christmas morning,” Rosalie was saying as she stalked through the family room, a feather duster in one hand. She swiped the thing every which way, swirling up dust left and right.

“Rosalie,” Harry protested.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I want the house to look its best for the girls.”

In a blur, his wife dashed past him and into the next room. Where she found the energy, Harry couldn’t even imagine. Next he caught sight of her fluffing up the sofa pillow, squeezing it hard, then pounding it into place. Harry couldn’t help smiling.

“Rosalie,” he called out. “Sit down a minute, would you? I’m getting tired just watching you.”

“I don’t have time to sit.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“All right, all right.” The way she breezed into the room reminded him of Loretta Young’s entrance on her television show in the fifties. He’d seen that moment hundreds of times, and it lingered in his mind to this day. Rosalie had been every bit as beautiful as Loretta Young back then. Still was, in his opinion.

“Sit.” Harry pointed to her chair, which stood next to his own. They shared an end table and a lamp.

“Yes, sweetheart?” She sat on the very edge of her seat, signaling her impatience to get on with her work.

“I was thinking we should talk about Liberty Orchard.”

“Harry Alderwood, I told you—I don’t have time to talk about this now.”

“Please?” he asked quietly. It had been weighing on him all day.

Rosalie released a gusty sigh that the neighbors could probably have heard if they’d been listening. “Must we?”

“It would put my mind at rest,” he told her.

She sighed again, accepting that he wasn’t going to let this drop. “Fine. If you feel it’s that important, then let’s talk.”

Harry was grateful. If possible, he’d like Rosalie’s future settled before the girls arrived. He knew it was necessary to set things in motion, which meant they had to secure the unit. Harry felt an urgency that his recent heavenly visitation had only heightened. He might have mere days to live. Mere days to arrange all of this.

“You said you didn’t want to think about moving until after the holidays,” he began, “but—”

“I don’t,” Rosalie broke in. “I’ve got enough to do with the girls and their husbands coming here for Christmas.”

“I agree.”

She seemed surprised by that.

“But,” he added before she could crow at her apparent victory, “I’d be more comfortable if we told the administrator we’ve decided to take the unit.”

Rosalie hesitated. “Do you really think a few more days will make that much difference?”

“Yes,” Harry said firmly. “It’d give me peace of mind.”

Rosalie folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know, Harry…”

“What’s to know?” Dear heaven, Rosalie couldn’t have changed her mind already, could she?

“Harry, we’ve been in this house for so many years. To give it up like this…I don’t think I’m ready.”

“You said—”

She held up her hand. “I know what I said. Yes, we had a good time at Liberty Orchard. Lucy’s always been a persuasive person. And at first I was excited to see my friends again, but now…” She let the words fade and refused to meet his eyes.