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looking for Catherine, which he seems to be doing, we can make sure he finds her. He should see what she's done with her life, how happy she is..."

"Goodness, I don't think that's such a good idea," Shirley protested. "You know the rules as well as I do, and we're not supposed to interfere in human lives."

"Who said anything about interfering?"

"There isn't any rule against sending humans in a particular direction, is there?" Mercy asked.

"No, but..." Shirley began. Goodness and Mercy, however, had disappeared before the words left her lips.

Oh, dear. Already it was starting. Already she'd lost control.

Shirley raced after the other two, hoping she could stop them in time.

SHIRLEY, GOODNESS AND MERCY Chapter Three

G reg had remained in the church longer than he'd intended. He felt a little foolish sitting there in that quiet darkened place all alone. It was almost as if...as if he was waiting for something to happen. Or for someone to appear and speak to him - which, of course, was ridiculous. God was hardly going to drop down and have a heart-to-heart with someone like him.

Other than that unaccountable feeling of anticipation, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred during the time he'd been in this church. Nevertheless, the experience had calmed him. For that half hour, Greg was able to set his troubles aside. He'd never been one to dwell on the negatives; it was far easier to push his regrets and worries from his mind, pretend they didn't exist. Anyway, he'd always managed to surmount his business problems, even when the vineyard had suffered from other disasters - flooding or frost or even fire.

Only this time he had a gut feeling that there wasn't going to be any last-minute rescue. This one was different. If some kind of solution didn't turn up soon, he was going to lose everything.

At sixty he was too old to start over.

After he left the church, he began walking again, his thoughts heavy. It probably wasn't a good idea to drive yet, so he aimlessly wandered the streets. He considered the few options he had. He could declare bankruptcy. Or he could throw himself on his brother's mercy. Phil had become a vice president of Pacific Union, one of the largest banks in the state. He could certainly pull strings to help Greg secure a loan.

But they hadn't spoken since their mother's death. Greg didn't blame Phil for hating him, especially after what he'd done. Another regret. Another person who'd needed him - another person he'd failed. His own mother.

A sick feeling settled over him. He increased his pace as if he could outdistance his guilt. His mother might have forgiven him, but his brother hadn't. Their quarrel following the funeral had ended any chance Greg might have had of receiving Phil's help now.

Although he wasn't hungry, Greg decided to find some lunch. With food in his stomach to cut the effects of the alcohol, he could safely drive, and empty though it was, home had begun to seem mighty appealing.

He could buy a cup of chowder or a seafood sandwich along Fisherman's Wharf, so he hurried down-hill toward the waterfront, his pace filled with sudden purpose. The wind was cold and brisk, and he gathered his coat around him as he neared the wharf. What on earth were all these people doing here? No doubt spending their money on useless junk for Christmas. Grumbling, he wove his way through the crowds toward the closest fish bar.

"There she is," Goodness whispered, pressing her face against the restaurant window.

"You found her?" Mercy sounded incredulous as she peered in the window, too. "Oh, my, Catherine really is lovely."

Shirley couldn't resist. She cupped her hands about her face and gazed through the smudged glass, too.

"Her daughter looks exactly like her," Mercy said.

Her friends were right, Shirley thought. Catherine was a classic beauty who carried herself with grace and elegance. Her daughter, whose name was Carrie, if she remembered correctly, strongly resembled her mother. It was like turning back the clock and seeing Catherine as the young college student who had loved and trusted Greg Bennett.

Shirley pinched her lips, disliking Greg Bennett more than ever. She wasn't one to suffer fools gladly.

"Greg Bennett needs a lot of help," she said, disheartened that their angelic talents were being wasted on a man who would neither acknowledge nor appreciate their endeavors.

Shirley figured that if the three of them stood directly in front of him in a full display of God's glory, Greg