Free The Murder Stone by Louise Penny Page B

wonderful news,’ said Reine-Marie, taking her friend in her arms. Clara smelled Joy, the fragrance by Jean Patou, and felt the same way. It was like being saved from torture at the last moment. She pulled back from the embrace and stared at Reine-Marie Gamache, to make certain. Sure enough, the smiling woman was there. Clara could still feel the glares behind her, but it didn’t matter as much. Not now.
    Then Armand kissed her on both cheeks and squeezed her arm affectionately. ‘We’re thrilled for you. And Denis Fortin.’ He looked into the fieldstone faces on the terrasse. ‘He’s the top art dealer in Montreal, as you probably know. A real coup.’
    ‘Really?’ Peter’s mother managed to sound both dismissive and disapproving. As though Clara’s coup was unseemly. And certainly this display of emotion, of elation, was unseemly. This was a rude interruption of a private family affair. And, perhaps worst of all, unmistakable evidence that Peter socialized with the people from the broom closet. It was one thing to play bridge when stuck in a remote lodge with them. That was simply being well bred. But it was quite another thing to choose their company.
    Gamache walked over to Peter and shook his hand. ‘Hello, old son.’
    Gamache was smiling and Peter stared as though at something extraordinary.
    ‘Armand? But how in the world did you come to be here?’
    ‘Well, it is an inn after all.’ Gamache laughed. ‘We’re here celebrating our anniversary.’
    ‘Oh, thank God,’ said Clara and stepped towards Reine-Marie. Peter also made to move towards them but the clearing of a small throat behind him stopped his progress.
    ‘Perhaps we can talk later,’ suggested Reine-Marie. ‘You need time with your charming family.’ She gave Clara another quick hug. Clara was reluctant to let go, but did, and watched as the Gamaches strolled across the lawn towards the lake. She felt a trickle down her neck. Reaching up to wipe the sweat away she was surprised to see blood on her fingers.
    SIX
    Finally, after a luncheon that lasted a thousand years, Clara was able to get away, and the first thing she wanted to do was go on the hunt for the Gamaches.
    ‘I think Mother would prefer us to stay here.’ Peter hovered on the stone terrasse.
    ‘Come on.’ She gave him a conspiratorial look and held out her hand. ‘Be daring.’
    ‘But it’s a family reunion.’ Peter longed to go with her. To take her hand and race across the perfect lawn, and find their friends. Over lunch, while the rest of the family either ate in silence or discussed the stock market, Peter and Clara had whispered urgently and excitedly about the Gamaches.
    ‘You should’ve seen your face,’ said Peter, trying to keep his voice down. ‘You looked like Dorothy meeting the Great and Powerful Oz. All stunned and excited.’
    ‘I think you’re spending way too much time with Olivier and Gabri,’ said Clara, smiling. She’d never actually smiled at a family reunion before. It felt odd. ‘Besides, you looked like the Tin Man, all stunned. Can you believe the Gamaches are here? Can we sneak away and spend some time with them this afternoon?’
    ‘I don’t see why not,’ said Peter, hiding behind a warm bun. The prospect of killing a few hours with their friends instead of enduring the family was a great relief.
    Clara had looked at her watch. Two p.m. Twenty more hours. If she went to bed at eleven and woke up at nine tomorrow morning that would leave just – she tried to work it out in her head – eleven more waking hours with Peter’s family. She could just about make it. And two hours with the Gamaches, that left just nine hours. Dear Lord, she could almost see the end coming. Then they could return to their little village of Three Pines, until another invitation arrived, next year.
    Don’t think about that.
    But now Peter hesitated on the terrasse, as she secretly knew he would. Even over lunch she’d known he couldn’t do it. Still,