A Fatal Grace (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #2)

by Louise Penny

‘How’d that make you feel?’ Did he imagine the wince? But her silence remained, eloquent, her face impassive. Anything CC didn’t like

didn’t exist. That included her husband and her daughter. It included any unpleasantness, any criticism, any harsh words not her own, any emotions. CC lived, Saul knew, in her own world, where she was perfect, where she could hide her feelings and hide her failings.

The works appeared simple but were in reality very complex. Images and colors were layered one on top of the other. Hours and hours, days and days must have been spent on each one to get the desired effect.

had somehow captured a sense of movement without making it disorienting. Instead it was graceful and calming and, above all, powerful. The tips of the branches seemed to melt or become fuzzy as though even in its confidence and yearning there was a tiny doubt. It was brilliant.

No. It was almost impossible to electrocute someone these days, unless you were the governor of Texas.

‘I have to gulp one drink to get another?’ ‘Like old times, isn’t it?’

Hahaha

‘Voilà. It’s good to be home.’ He took her in his arms and kissed her, feeling her soft body beneath his coat. They’d both swelled since they’d first met. There was no way either would get into their wedding clothes. But they’d grown in other ways as well, and Gamache figured it was a good deal. If life

meant growth in all directions, it was fine with him.

sleeves were rolled up and his hands soapy as he vigorously scrubbed the Le Creuset pot.

My favorite pans

How can you possibly find the truth about someone else if you won’t admit the truth about yourself?’

That’s how Armand Gamache felt now. He felt happy and satisfied. He loved his work, he loved his team. He’d rise no further in the Sûreté, and he’d made his peace with that because Armand Gamache wasn’t a competitive man. He was a content man.

Beauvoir. ‘But CC didn’t seem to be able to enter a room without touching and straightening everything. Very unevolved. No room for the spirit if you need to do that. All the cushions were neatly stacked and lined up with the wall, all the pictures in perfect alignment, everything just so.’

the folds of her purple caftan dripping down so that she resembled something out of a Renaissance painting, by a not very good artist.

Haha

‘A catholic education. Sorry I couldn’t help.’

‘When someone stabs you it’s not your fault that you feel pain.’

‘Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Egotistical?’ ‘Hope that’s not from my next performance evaluation.’

FINE.

‘We live in a world of guided missiles and misguided men,’ said Myrna. ‘Dr Martin Luther King, Junior.’

‘Your beliefs become your thoughts Your thoughts become your words Your words become your actions Your actions become your destiny. Mahatma Gandhi,’

Hooked rugs were scattered here and there and a Vermont Castings woodstove sat in the middle of the store with a sofa facing it and a rocking chair on either side. Gamache, who loved bookstores, thought this was just the most attractive one he’d ever met.

We had to learn to respect her wishes.’