He set the flowers on the bedside table next to Margaret’s plastic water cup and her brown prescription bottles.

His heavy gold signet ring flashed under the ceiling light as he smoothed his dark silk tie.

“Tom, Margaret, I owe you both a sincere apology,” Arthur said, coming closer to the foot of the bed.

“I let my concern for parish decorum overrule my Christian charity,” he added, lowering his head a little in a show of humility.

Margaret glanced at the yellow roses on the nightstand, then lifted her eyes back to Arthur’s face.

“Beware of an old man bearing yellow roses and sudden generosity,” she said, her voice dry and scratchy.