said Jamie. “I thought about it—quite hard, actually, but at the end of the day decided no, I wouldn’t.” “Wouldn’t, or couldn’t?” asked Isabel Dalhousie, his wife, his lover, his friend, and, in addition to all that, editor of the Review of Applied Ethics. “There’s a difference, you know.” “I could have gone, I suppose, but somehow I couldn’t face it. Class reunions, well…” He shrugged. She allowed her gaze to dwell on him, making it possible for a rush of love to overwhelm her, as it often did when she was with him, unexpectedly for the most part, at odd moments—on awakening and seeing that he was still there; while walking in the Pentland Hills with the light behind him and the wind in his hair; in the kitchen, when he was cooking, and might turn to her, holding out a spoon, and say: Do you like this? She had always understood that love could have an intense physical effect; could fill a space somewhere in the chest, could turn knees weak, could raise the pulse; could intoxicate, just as could a strong martini or a glass of champagne.
What do You think about At The Reunion Buffet (2015)?
