Gabri arrived with Szechwan take-out. He’d heard rumors of the activity and wanted desperately to see for himself. He’d even rehearsed. The huge man, made even more enormous by his coat and scarves, swept into the room. Stopping dead in the center, and making sure he held his audience, he looked around and declared, ‘Either that wallpaper goes, or I do.’ – Still Life
There were Gabri Dubeau and his partner Olivier Brulé. Gabri large and soft and clearly going to pot and loving every mouthful of it. He was in his mid-thirties and had decided he’d had enough of being young and buff and gay. Well, not really enough of being gay. Beside him stood Olivier, handsome and slim and elegant. Blond to his partner’s dark, he was picking a distressing strand of hair from his silk turtleneck, clearly wishing he could stick it back in. – A Fatal Grace
Olivier was constantly surprised by Gabri. His unexpected depth and his profound silliness. Olivier shook his head and went back to bed, trusting that in the morning all the evil spirits and the croissants would be gone. Wasn’t that why he and Olivier had decided to move here? Partly to get away from the mountain of crap they’d created in their old lives, but mostly to live in a place where kindness trumped cleverness. – The Cruelest Month
“Félicitations,” smiled Olivier. Where Gabri was large, effusive, unkempt, Olivier was immaculate and restrained. Both in their mid-thirties, they’d moved to Three Pines to lead a less stressful life. – A Rule Against Murder
He leaned in to his partner, seeing the precious thinning hair lying across the pillow and across the face. The eyes closed, peaceful. Gabri smelled Olivier, musky, slightly sweaty. Soon they’d have a shower and they’d both smell like Ivory soap. – The Brutal Telling
That was how Gabri and his partner Olivier had found Three Pines. Not intending to. They had other, grander, plans for their lives but once they’d laid eyes on the village, with its fieldstone cottages, and clap-board homes, and United Empire Loyalist houses, its perennial beds of roses and delphiniums and sweet peas, its bakery, and general store, well, they’d never left. Instead of taking New York, or Boston or even Toronto by storm they’d settled into this backwater. And never wanted to leave. – Bury Your Dead
Olivier looked at his partner, with his cheery white and red heart-shaped apron. The one he’d begged Gabri not to buy for Valentine’s Day two years ago. Had begged him not to wear. Had been ashamed of, and prayed no one they knew from Montréal visited and saw Gabri in such a ridiculous outfit. But now Olivier loved it. Didn’t want him to change it. Didn’t want him to change anything. – A Trick of the Light
Olivier and Gabri were walking over from the B and B, and met them on the road.
“It’s a gay blizzard,” said Ruth. “I used to be as pure as the driven snow,” Gabri confided in Constance. “Then I drifted.” – How the Light Gets In
Reine-Marie Gamache sat in her habitual seat. She hadn’t meant to make it a habit, it just happened. For the first few weeks after she and Armand had moved to Three Pines, they’d taken different seats at different tables. And each seat and table really was different. Not simply the location in the old bistro, but the style of furniture. All antiques, all for sale, with price tags hanging from them. Some were old Québec pine, some were overstuffed Edwardian armchairs and wing chairs. There was even a smattering of mid-century modern pieces. Sleek and teak and surprisingly comfortable. All collected by Olivier and tolerated by his partner, Gabri. As long as Olivier kept his finds in the bistro and left the running, and decorating, of the bed and breakfast to Gabri. – The Long Way Home
Gabri, large and voluble, walked across the bistro he owned with his partner, Olivier. – The Nature of the Beast
Olivier and his partner, Gabri, had turned an abandoned hardware store into the bistro many years ago, and in updating the electricity and plumbing, they’d opened the walls and found all sorts of things. Mummified squirrels, clothing. But mostly they’d found papers. Newspapers, magazines, advertisements, catalogues used as insulation as though words could keep winter at bay. – A Great Reckoning
Armand had, with Olivier’s help, borrowed Gabri’s signature bright pink fluffy slippers and a kimono. It was an easy, and extremely comfortable, costume. – Glass Houses
“There is only one chef,” Anton had confided in Myrna one day while buying vintage cookbooks at her shop. “But Olivier likes to make it sound like there’s a fleet of them.” Myrna laughed. Sounded like Olivier. Always trying to impress, even people who knew him too well for that. – Glass Houses
Lunch arrived. Clara and Myrna had both ordered the halibut, with mustard seeds, curry leaves, and grilled tomato. And for Gabri, his partner, Olivier, had made grouse with roasted figs and cauliflower puree. – Kingdom of the Blind
“Thought you could use some help,” said Olivier, above the roar of the water. “To look at a river?”
“Okay, some company.”
On seeing the expression on Armand’s face,
Olivier amended that. “Okay, it was time to do dishes.”
Armand laughed. Knowing that in fact Olivier had come out into the frigid night to offer help. In case. – A Better Man
Gabri had decided not to wear his frilly pink apron, the one he put on just to annoy Olivier, who still wanted to pass as straight. – The Madness of Crowds
Olivier took a few steps into the Old Train Station and Gabri followed. The men were very familiar with the large open space. It was home to their volunteer fire department. Both were members, and Ruth was the chief. Self-appointed, admittedly. But being essentially a dumpster fire herself, she was familiar with flames. – A World of Curiosities
It was comfortable and comforting. A relaxed marriage of the traditional and contemporary. Much like Olivier and Gabri themselves. – The Grey Wolf
Gabri and Olivier – the owners of the Bistro and the B&B – are partners, a study in contrasts who complement each other perfectly. Do these excerpts capture these two Three Pines residents? What traits or descriptions would you add?
There’s no better introduction to the “Gardens of Three Pines” than Miss Jane Neal’s.