A Fatal Grace

‘I didn’t see, but that reminds me,’ said Reine-Marie. ‘I met a friend of yours in the bistro. He said it was good to see you again.’

‘Really? Who?’

‘Billy Williams.’

‘And you understood what he said?’ asked Gamache in amazement.

‘Every word. He asked me to give you this.’ She held up the small paper bag on her lap, protecting it from their latest family member. Henri sat in the back seat, listening alertly to their conversation and wagging his tail. Reine-Marie opened the bag to show Gamache a slice of lemon meringue pie. Gamache felt goose bumps on his arms.

‘Look, there’s a napkin in here with something written on it,’ said Reine-Marie, diving into the bag and pulling it out. ‘Isn’t that funny?’

Gamache pulled the car to the side of the road near the top of du Moulin.

‘Let me guess,’ he said, feeling his heart thudding in his chest.

‘Where there is love, there is courage

Where there is courage, there is peace

Where there is peace, there is God.

And when you have God, you have everything.’

‘How did you know?’ Reine-Marie asked, her eyes wide with astonishment, her hands delicately holding the napkin.

In the rearview mirror Armand Gamache could see Three Pines. He got out of the car and stared down at the village, each home glowing with warm and beckoning light, promising protection against a world sometimes too cold. He closed his eyes and felt his racing heart calm.

‘Are you all right?’ Reine-Marie’s mittened hand slipped into his.

‘I’m more than all right.’ He smiled. ‘I have everything.’