A Trick of the Light (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #7)

by Louise Penny

He saw again Clara’s portrait of the three elderly friends. The Three Graces. Émilie and Beatrice and Kaye. Their neighbors in Three Pines. How they laughed, and held each other. Old, frail, near death. With every reason to be afraid. And yet everyone who looked at Clara’s painting felt what those women felt. Joy. Looking at the Graces Peter had known at that moment that he was screwed. And he knew something else. Something people looking at Clara’s extraordinary creations might not consciously realize, but feel. In their bones, in their marrow. Without a single crucifix, or host, or bible. Without benefit of clergy, or church. Clara’s paintings radiated a subtle, private faith. In a single bright dot in an eye. In old hands holding old hands. For dear life. Clara painted dear life. While the rest of the cynical art world was painting the worst, Clara painted the best.