Shirley, Goodness and Mercy Read online

  Shirley, Goodness and Mercy

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  Debbie Macomber

  Alone at Christmas

  Greg Bennett feels his life has been a waste. Sixty years old and he has no one to spend Christmas with, no one who cares.

  Greg knows he’s made mistakes, hurt people, failed in all the ways that matter. As a young man, he fathered a child he never acknowledged. He deserted a friend in his hour of need. He abandoned his own brother, whom he hasn’t seen in years.

  Listlessly wandering the streets of San Francisco, Greg finds himself in church—and whispers a simple heartfelt prayer. A prayer that wends its way to the Archangel Gabriel, who assigns his favorite angels—Shirley, Goodness and Mercy—to Greg Bennett’s case. Because Gabriel knows full well that Greg’s going to need the assistance of all THREE!

  Shirley, Goodness and Mercy are determined to create a miracle for Greg. In their usual inimitable way, they set about to show him what life, joy and Christmas are all about!

  Other titles by Debbie Macomber now available wherever Harlequin ebooks are sold:

  Blossom Street Books

  The Shop on Blossom Street

  A Good Yarn

  Susannah’s Garden

  Back on Blossom Street

  Twenty Wishes

  Summer on Blossom Street

  Hannah’s List

  The Knitting Diaries: “The Twenty-First Wish”

  A Turn in the Road

  Cedar Cove Books

  16 Lighthouse Road

  204 Rosewood Lane

  311 Pelican Court

  44 Cranberry Point

  50 Harbor Street

  6 Rainier Drive

  74 Seaside Avenue

  8 Sandpiper Way

  92 Pacific Boulevard

  1022 Evergreen Place

  A Cedar Cove Christmas (5-B Poppy Lane and Christmas in Cedar Cove)

  1105 Yakima Street

  1225 Christmas Tree Lane

  Dakota Series

  Dakota Born

  Dakota Home

  Always Dakota

  The Manning Family

  The Manning Sisters

  The Manning Brides

  The Manning Grooms

  Christmas Books

  A Gift to Last

  On a Snowy Night

  Home for the Holidays

  Glad Tidings

  Christmas Wishes

  Small Town Christmas

  When Christmas Comes (now retitled Trading Christmas)

  There’s Something About Christmas

  Christmas Letters

  Where Angels Go

  The Perfect Christmas

  Angels at Christmas (Those Christmas Angels and Where Angels Go)

  Call Me Mrs. Miracle

  Heart of Texas Series

  VOLUME 1 (Lonesome Cowboy and Texas Two-Step)

  VOLUME 2 (Caroline’s Child and Dr. Texas)

  VOLUME 3 (Nell’s Cowboy and Lone Star Baby)

  Promise, Texas

  Return to Promise

  Midnight Sons

  VOLUME 1 (Brides for Brothers and The Marriage Risk)

  VOLUME 2 (Daddy’s Little Helper and Because of the Baby)

  VOLUME 3 (Falling for Him, Ending in Marriage and Midnight Sons and Daughters)

  This Matter of Marriage

  Montana

  Thursdays at Eight

  Between Friends

  Changing Habits

  Married in Seattle (First Comes Marriage and Wanted: Perfect Partner)

  Right Next Door (Father’s Day and The Courtship of Carol Sommars)

  The Man You’ll Marry (The First Man You Meet and The Man You’ll Marry)

  Orchard Valley Grooms (Valerie and Stephanie)

  Orchard Valley Brides (Norah and Lone Star Lovin’ )

  The Sooner the Better

  An Engagement in Seattle (Groom Wanted and Bride Wanted)

  Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove Cookbook

  Debbie Macomber’s Christmas Cookbook

  To my St. Simons Island, Georgia, friends

  Becky and Hank Wyrick

  Hilaire Bauer

  Jackie Randall

  and

  Phillip DePoy

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  About the Author

  One

  Greg Bennett had always hated Christmas.

  He’d never believed in “goodwill toward men” and all that other sentimental garbage. Christmas in the city—any city—was the epitome of commercialism, and San Francisco was no exception. Here it was, barely December, and department-store windows had been filled with automated elves and tinsel-hung Christmas trees since before Thanksgiving!

  Most annoying, in Greg’s opinion, was the hustle and bustle of holiday shoppers, all of whom seemed to be unnaturally cheerful. That only made his own mood worse.

  He wouldn’t be in the city at all if he wasn’t desperately in need of a bank loan. Without it, he’d be forced to lay off what remained of his crew by the end of the year. He’d have to close the winery’s doors. His vines—and literally decades of work—had been wiped out by fan leaf disease, devastating the future of his vineyard and crippling him financially.

  He’d spent the morning visiting one financial institution after another. Like a number of other growers, he’d applied at the small-town banks in the Napa Valley and been unsuccessful. His wasn’t the only vineyard destroyed by the disease—although, for reasons no one really understood, certain vineyards had been spared the blight. For a while there’d been talk of low-interest loans from the federal government, but they hadn’t materialized. Apparently the ruin hadn’t been thorough enough to warrant financial assistance. For Greg that news definitely fell into the category of cold comfort.

  It left him in a dilemma. No loan—no replanted vines. Without the vines there would be no grapes, without the grapes, no wine, and without the winery, no Gregory Bennett.

  What he needed after a morning such as this, he decided, was a good stiff drink and the company of a charming female companion, someone who could help him forget his current troubles. He walked into the St. Francis, the elegant San Francisco hotel, and found himself facing a twenty-foot Christmas tree decorated with huge gold balls and plush red velvet bows. Disgusted, he looked away and hurried toward the bar.

  The bartender seemed to sense his urgency. “What can I get you?” he asked promptly. He wore a name tag that identified him as Don.

  Greg sat down on a stool. “Get me a martini,” he said. If it hadn’t been so early in the day, he would have asked for a double, but it was barely noon and he still had to drive home. He didn’t feel any compelling reason to return. The house, along with everything else in his life, was empty. Oh, the furniture was all there—Tess hadn’t taken that—but he was alone, more alone than he could ever remember being.

  Tess, his third and greediest wife, had left him six months earlier. The attorneys were fighting out the details of their divorce, and at three hundred dollars an hour, neither lawyer had much incentive to rush into court.

  Nevertheless, Tess was gone. He silently toasted eliminating her from his life and vowed not to make the mistake of marrying again. Three wives was surely sufficient evidence that he wasn’t the stay-married kind.

  Yet he missed Tess, he mused with some regret—and surprise. Well, maybe not Tess exactly, but a warm body in his bed. By his side. Even at the time, he’d
known it was foolish to marry her. He certainly should have known, after the messy end of his second marriage. His first had lasted ten years, and he’d split with Jacquie over… Hell if he could remember. Something stupid. It’d always been something stupid.

  “You out shopping?” Don the bartender asked as he delivered a bowl of peanuts.

  Greg snorted. “Not on your life.”

  The younger man smiled knowingly. “Ah, you’re one of those.”

  “You mean someone who’s got common sense. What is it with people and Christmas? Normal, sane human beings become sentimental idiots.” A year ago, when he and Tess had been married less than eighteen months, she’d made it clear she expected diamonds for Christmas. Lots of them. She’d wanted him to make her the envy of her friends. That was what he got for marrying a woman nineteen years his junior. A pretty blonde with a figure that could stop traffic. Next time around he’d simply move the woman into his house and send her packing when he grew bored with her. No more marriages—not for him. He didn’t need any more legal entanglements.

  Just then a blond beauty entered the bar, and Greg did a double take. For half a heartbeat, he thought it was Tess. Thankfully he was wrong. Blond, beautiful and probably a bitch. The last part didn’t bother him, though—especially now, when he could use a little distraction. He’d be sixty-one his next birthday, but he was trim and fit, and still had all his hair—gone mostly gray, what people called “distinguished.” In fact, he could easily pass for ten years younger. His good looks had taken him a long way in this world, and he’d worked hard to maintain a youthful appearance.

  “Welcome,” he greeted her, swerving around on his stool to give her his full attention.

  “Hello.”

  Her answering smile told him she wasn’t averse to his company. Yes, she might well provide a distraction. If everything worked out, he might stay in town overnight. Considering the morning he’d had, he deserved a little comfort. He wasn’t interested in anything serious—just a light flirtation to take his mind off his troubles, a dalliance to momentarily distract him.

  “Are you meeting someone?” Greg asked.

  “Not really,” she said, her voice sultry and deep.

  Greg noted the packages. “Been shopping, I see.”

  She nodded, and when the bartender walked over to her table, Greg said, “Put it on my tab.”

  “Thanks,” she said in that same sultry voice. He was even more impressed when she asked for a glass of Bennett Wine. A pinot noir.

  He slipped off the stool and approached her table. “I’m Greg.”

  “Cherry Adams.”

  He liked her name; it suited her. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  “Go ahead. Why not?”

  The day was already looking brighter. He pulled out a chair and sat down. They made small talk for a few minutes, exchanged pleasantries. He didn’t mention his last name because he didn’t want her to make the connection and have their conversation weighed down by the problems at Bennett Wines. However, it soon became clear that she was knowledgeable about wine—and very flattering about his 1996 pinot noir. Tess had been an idiot on the subject, despite being married to the owner of a winery. She didn’t know the difference between chablis and chardonnay. And she never did understand why he couldn’t call his own sparkling wine champagne, no matter how many times he told her the name could only be used for sparkling wines from the Champagne region of France.

  After another glass of wine for her and a second martini for him, Greg suggested lunch. Cherry hesitated and gazed down at her hands. “Sorry, but I’ve got a nail appointment.”

  “You could cancel it,” Greg suggested, trying to hint that they could find more entertaining ways to occupy themselves. He didn’t want her to think he was being pushy. Later, after lunch, he’d surprise her and announce who he really was. He was pleased—no, delighted—by her interest in him, particularly because she didn’t know he was the man responsible for the wine she’d described as “exquisite.” He grinned; wait till he told her. Cherry’s interest proved what he’d been telling himself ever since Tess had walked out on him. He was still young, still vital, still sexy.

  That was when it happened.

  The look that crossed Cherry’s face conveyed her thoughts as clearly as if she’d said them aloud. She wasn’t interested. Oh, sure, he was good for a few drinks, especially since he was buying. Good for an hour of conversation. But that was all.

  “I really do have to go,” Cherry said as she reached for her shopping bags. “My nails are a mess. Thanks for the, uh, company and the wine, though.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Greg muttered, watching her leave. He was still reeling from the blow to his pride.

  Soon afterward, he left, too. He’d never been one to take rejection well, mainly because he’d had so little experience of it.

  After two martinis he knew he wasn’t in any condition to drive. So he left his car in the lot and started to walk. With no destination in mind, he wandered down the crowded street, trying to keep his distance from all those happy little shoppers. His stomach growled and his head hurt, but not nearly as much as his ego. Every time he thought about the look on Cherry’s face, he cringed. Okay, okay, she’d been too young. At a guess he’d say she was no more than thirty.

  However, Greg knew a dozen women her age who would leap at the opportunity to spend a day and a night with him. He was suave, sophisticated and rich. Not as rich as he’d once been—would be again, as soon as he got this latest mess straightened out. If he got it straightened out. The truth was, he stood on the brink of losing everything.

  Desperate to escape his dark thoughts, he began to walk at a brisker pace. He made an effort not to think, not to acknowledge his fears and worries, concentrating, instead, on the movement of his feet, the rhythm of his breath. He turned corner after corner and eventually found himself on a side street dominated by an imposing brick church.

  He paused in front of it. A church. Now that was a laugh. He remembered how his mother had dragged him and his brother, Phil, to service every Sunday. He’d even attended services while he was in college. But he hadn’t darkened the door of a church since…Catherine.

  She’d been his sweetheart, his lover, during college—until he’d broken it off. No, abandoned her. That was a more honest description of what he’d done. The years had numbed his guilt, and he rarely thought of her anymore. Funny how a relationship that had ended more than thirty-five years ago could suddenly rise up to haunt him. He’d been a senior the last time he’d seen Catherine. They’d been madly in love. Then she’d told him she was pregnant and Greg had panicked. About to graduate, about to start his life, he’d done what had seemed sensible at the time; he’d fled.

  Unable to face her, he’d written Catherine a letter and told her he was leaving. She should do whatever she wanted about the baby. It’d been cowardly of him, but he was just a kid back then; he’d long since stopped berating himself over it. He’d never heard from her again. He didn’t know what she’d done about the baby. Didn’t want to know. Abortions hadn’t been legal at the time, but there were ways of getting rid of an unwanted pregnancy even then. His mother hadn’t ever learned why his relationship with Catherine had ended, but Phil knew. That was the beginning of the estrangement between Greg and his brother.

  Almost without realizing it, Greg began to move up the church steps. He blamed it on the throng of shoppers crowding in around him. All he wanted was a few moments of peace and quiet. A chance to think.

  He hesitated on the top step. He didn’t belong in a church, not the way he’d lived. And yet…

  His life was empty and he was old enough to recognize that. But at sixty, it was a bit late. For most of his adult life, he’d followed the path of least resistance, put his own interests above those of other people. He’d believed that was the basis of prosperity, of success. Deserting Catherine was where it had started.

  She’d been the first of his regrets. Matthias was th
e second. And then his mother…

  Matthias Jamison was his father’s cousin and an employee at the winery. Greg’s parents had divorced when he was in high school, and he and Phil had spent summers with their father at the vineyard. Although the younger of the two, Greg was the one who’d been drawn to the family business. He’d spent hour after hour there, learning everything he could about wine and wine making.

  Ten years his senior, Matthias had taken Greg under his wing. What John Bennett didn’t teach Greg about wine making, Matthias did. His father had also insisted Greg get a business degree, and he’d been right. Several years later, when he died, Greg bought out Phil’s half to become sole owner and worked with Matthias operating the winery.

  The wine had always been good. What the business needed was an aggressive advertising campaign. People couldn’t order the Bennett label if they’d never heard of it. The difficulty with Greg’s ideas was the huge financial investment they demanded. Commissioning sophisticated full-page ads and placing them in upscale food magazines, attending wine expositions throughout the world—it had all cost money. He’d taken a gamble, which was just starting to pay off when Matthias came to him, needing a loan.

  Mary, Matthias’s wife of many years, had developed a rare form of blood cancer. The experimental drug that might save her life wasn’t covered by their health insurance. The cost of the medication was threatening to bankrupt Matthias; his savings were gone and no bank would lend him money. He’d asked Greg for help. After everything the older man had done for him and for his family, Greg knew he owed Matthias that and more.

  The decision had been agonizing. Bennett Wines was just beginning to gain recognition; sales had doubled and tripled. But Greg’s plans were bigger than that. He’d wanted to help Matthias, but there was no guarantee the treatment would be effective. So he’d turned Matthias down. Mary had died a few months later, when conventional treatments failed, and a bitter Matthias had left Bennett Wines and moved to Washington state.

  Generally Greg didn’t encourage friendships. He tended to believe that friends took advantage of you, that they resented your success. It was every man for himself, in Greg’s view. Still, Matthias had been the best friend he’d ever had. Because of what happened, the two men hadn’t spoken in fifteen years.