The Novel Habits of Happiness by Alexander McCall Smith

me, she thought. And with that, her mind drifted away from the unpleasant subject of Dove and Lettuce and their schemes; she had noticed two dogs careering around on the grass. Their joy was unmistakable as they leapt up and barked, chasing each other in the tight circles that dogs delight in describing. The sight immediately lifted her spirits. Dove and Lettuce were minor irritations in the face of all that was positive about being there, at that particular spot, in a city so heart-breakingly beautiful, with those dogs cavorting with sheer delight. That was what counted, she told herself: those unexpected moments of appreciation, unanticipated glimpses of beauty or kindness—any of the things that attached us to this world, that made us forget, even for a moment, its pain and its transience.

S AM ARRANGED THE MEETING that took place that afternoon. Isabel had suggested that they meet at Cat’s delicatessen, where there were several tables at which coffee was served and where they could talk without being overheard. Eddie would put a
Reserved
sign on one of them as the delicatessen could be busy at that end of the afternoon.
    “I won’t stay,” Sam said. “I’ll introduce you, but I won’t stay.”
    Isabel reassured her friend that she did not mind, but Sam was adamant.
    “Kirsten’s a shy woman,” she said. “My presence will only make it hard for her to talk.”
    They agreed on a time, and Sam consulted Kirsten about it. This suited the other woman; her son, she said, would be at soccer practice after school today, which would give them over an hour.
    Isabel had not seen Cat since her return from Paris that morning, and so she made a point of arriving at the delicatessen ten minutes before the agreed time. But when she arrived she saw that Sam was already there, seated at the table with a woman who was obviously Kirsten. Cat was busy with a customer, and so she merely waved to Isabel across the counter, mouthing the words
Later on.
She seemed cheerful, and Isabel thought:
Paris.
Also behind the counter, where he was slicing a large Parma ham, was Eddie, who caught Isabel’s eye and smiled. Isabel returned the smile; Eddie was sensitive to Cat’s mood, and cheerfulness on her part always lifted his own spirits markedly.
    At the table, Sam made the introductions. Isabel shook hands with Kirsten and made a quick appraisal of the other woman. Her first impressions were favourable: Kirsten had the expression of one who is prepared to like those whom she meets—an openness that encouraged warmth. Isabel guessed at her age—a bit younger than she herself was, perhaps early thirties. She noticed the rings on her left index finger: a flash of light from a tiny diamond, and a yellow wedding ring; and her clothing, too—a pair of jeans that was functional rather than fashionable, and a casual fleecy top still kept zipped up.
    Eddie, who had finished with the Parma ham, came over to the table and took an order for coffee from Isabel and tea from Kirsten: Sam said that she could not stay, as she had to get to the supermarket. Her excuses given, she turned to Kirsten and asked her whether she minded. “I just have to get things in for this evening,” she said. “I have people coming for dinner and there isn’t a scrap of food in the house.”
    “No,” said Kirsten. “I don’t mind. I often leave things to the last moment.”
    Isabel had difficulty placing the accent. It was not Glasgow or Edinburgh, but came from somewhere further north, she thought—somewhere like Inverness.
    “Then I’m going to dash,” said Sam, rising to her feet.
    Isabel thought this rather abrupt, but it did not seem to bother Kirsten.
    “She’s so busy,” she said as Sam made her way to the door. “She puts me to shame.”
    “You have a young son,” said Isabel. “I know how much work that entails.”
    Kirsten nodded. “And you do too. Sam told me. A wee boy?”
    “Yes. He’s with my housekeep—” She stopped herself. She