A Gift to Last Page 0,46

or confront him."

"Yes," Mercy agreed. "Greg never did appreciate Catherine's strength."

"In other words, you're telling me," Gabriel said thoughtfully, "that Catherine chose to face him?"

Again all three nodded as one.

Gabriel's smile seemed involuntary. "The truth is, Catherine has Greg to thank for that inner strength. She gained it when he deserted her."

"They might never have met again if it hadn't been for those spilled crabs." Goodness made her foolishness sound like an act of genius.

Gabriel didn't look pleased - nor should he, Shirley reasoned. But that one antic had worked beautifully. She'd admit it now, even though she hadn't approved at the time.

"Do you have anything else to report?" Gabriel asked.

The three glanced at one another and shrugged.

"We've been to visit Matthias in the Seattle area," Mercy told him in an offhand manner meant to suggest that Gabriel probably already knew about it. "He still hates Greg, but he's more concerned about his grandson's condition just now."

"Ah, yes," Gabriel said, frowning again. "I've heard something about that. Cancer, is it?"

Shirley nodded. "The same form of leukemia that killed the boy's grandmother." Then, because she wanted to impress upon the archangel that their time on earth had been well spent, she said, "We've been to see Greg's brother, as well. Phil Bennett. You remember him, don't you?"

"Of course," Gabriel assured them. "I didn't realize Goodness enjoyed singing in choirs as much as she does. I'm sure she'll volunteer to be part of the heavenly host next year - is that correct?"

"Ah..." Goodness waited desperately for Shirley to rescue her, but Shirley was in no mood to offer assistance. She might have leaped in to save her friend, if not for that escapade with the hot-air balloon. She felt mortified every time she thought about it. True, the sparkling wine had gone a long way toward tempering her anger, but...

"I'll be happy to serve wherever assigned," Goodness stated with a woeful look in Shirley's direction.

Gabriel arched his brows as if to say her willingness surprised him. "I find your attitude a refreshing change from when we last spoke."

"Singing with the heavenly host isn't my favorite Christmas duty," Goodness was quick to add, "but I'll serve wherever you feel I'd do best."

Once again Gabriel's expression implied that he was having trouble believing her. "Anything else you'd like to report?" he finally asked.

"Not a thing," Shirley said, eager for him to be on his way.

"None."

"Nothing I can think of."

He stared at the three of them. "All right, then, carry on. Just remember there are less than three weeks until Christmas."

"Oh, yes," they said in unison. They'd made a lucky escape, Shirley felt. Gabriel hadn't even mentioned the hot-air balloon.

"It was very good of you to check up on us," Goodness said.

That was overdoing it, in Shirley's opinion. She resisted the urge to step on the other angel's foot.

"Oh, yes," Mercy chimed in. "Stop by again any time." For good measure, she added a small wave.

Shirley sent both Goodness and Mercy looks potent enough to perm their hair.

Gabriel turned away, then abruptly turned back. "I had no idea you three enjoyed wine."

Not one of them uttered a word. Shirley swallowed hard, certain they were going to be plucking harp strings on some cloud for the remainder of their careers.

"I don't suppose you happened to notice the label, did you?" he asked.

No one answered.

"That's what I thought," Gabriel said. "It was the Bennett label. Greg Bennett is a talented wine maker. It would be a pity for him to go out of business, don't you think?" Not giving them the opportunity to respond, Gabriel whisked back to the realms of glory.

Greg Bennett had an aversion to the antiseptic smell that permeated hospitals. It nearly overpowered him the minute he walked through the large glass doors of San Francisco General. His dislike of hospitals was linked to his mother's long stay before her death, he supposed. That, and his own revulsion to needles and blood.

He paused at the information center.

"Can I help you?" a much-too-perky candy striper asked him.

"Where might I find Dr. Edward Thorpe?"

"Oh, you're here about the article. That's wonderful!"

Article? What article? Greg hadn't a clue, but he played along as if he did. His son had decided he didn't want to meet him, and that was his choice, but Greg wanted to see Edward. Needed to see him. He wasn't going to make an issue of it, wasn't going to announce who he was. He didn't plan to cause a scene or even call