The Lost Art of Gratitude: The Sunday Philosophy Club 06. An Isabel Dalhousie Novel by Alexander McCall Smith

The Lost Art of Gratitude: The Sunday Philosophy Club 06. An Isabel Dalhousie Novel by Alexander McCall Smith

Author:Alexander McCall Smith [Smith, Alexander McCall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780307741974
Google: VI6qRQAACAAJ
Publisher: Random House Inc.
Published: 2010-08-15T15:26:12+00:00


C H A P T E R T W E L V E

E

OH MY GOODNESS, Jamie. I’m so sorry. That was a terrible thing to say. I had no idea that you would . . .” Jamie shook his head vigorously. He was not crying loudly, but there were tears. “No,” he said, wiping at his eyes with his handkerchief. “It’s not that at all. It’s not what you said. It’s nothing to do with it.”

Isabel sighed with relief. She had not offended him, then, but what could have provoked this rather extraordinary outburst of emotion on his part?

Jamie picked up his knife and fork and started to cut into his omelette, but put them down again.

“It’s the salad,” he said. “You’ve put in raw onion. My eyes are really sensitive to that. I can’t go anywhere near raw onion.” Isabel let out a peal of laughter. “Thank God. I thought that those were real tears and that I’d said a dreadful, insensitive thing to you. I thought that it was my fault.” She reached forward and took the plate away from the place in front of him. Then she scraped off the salad, and gave it back to him. “Just an omelette.

As nature intended. Nothing else.”

“That’s perfect,” he said. “I’m sorry about that. It’s genetic, I T H E S U N D A Y P H I L O S O P H Y C L U B

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think. My mother had exactly the same problem, and a cousin of hers too. We’re allergic to raw onion.”

“And I thought for a moment that it had something to do with Cat . . . and with the time you cooked dinner for the two of us in Saxe-Coburg Street.”

Jamie, who had been smiling, now looked pensive. “I remember,” he said.

Isabel had not intended to mention Cat, but now she had, and she knew what the next question would be. He always asked it, whenever she saw him.

“What is Cat up to?” he asked. “What is she doing?” Isabel reached for her glass and poured herself some wine.



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