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

by Louise Penny

most of her decisions weren’t really sensible. But they suited her life.

most of her clients didn’t really want to get better. They wanted a pill and reassurance that whatever was wrong wasn’t their fault.

It had croissants and café au lait. It had steak frites and the New York Times. It had a bakery, a bistro, a B. & B., a general store. It had peace and stillness and laughter. It had great joy and great sadness and the ability to accept both and be content. It had companionship and kindness.

A layer of pure white was both beautiful and dangerous. You never really knew what lurked beneath. A Quebec winter could both enchant and kill.

At Christmas homes were full of the people there and the people not there.

In my teens my drug of choice was acceptance, in my twenties it was approval, in my thirties it was love, in my forties it was Scotch.

It was nearly impossible to be both attractive and warm in a Quebec winter.

‘You don’t want to go into your head alone, mon petit. It’s a very scary place.’

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.

Beauvoir was no Picasso, which was a good thing for a homicide inspector. His drawings were always very clear and straightforward.

‘Your beliefs become your thoughts Your thoughts become your words Your words become your actions Your actions become your destiny.

My job is to find people who take lives. And to do that I have to find out why. And to do that I have to get into their heads and open that last door. But when I come out again,’ he opened his arms in an expansive movement, ‘the world is suddenly more beautiful, more alive, more lovely than ever. When you see the worst you appreciate the best.’

you did the right thing. But I understand your doubts. They’re what make you a great man, not your certainties.