Page 22 of Holiday Cheese and Capers
“I’ve missed this,” Bayard admitted. He reached up to clip a yellow square back onto the line. “Working in the field together. Being partners.”
Exandra paused, a green cloth in her hands. “Yes. I’ve missed it, too.”
“Exandra, I need to tell you something?—”
“No. Bayard, let me go first. There’s something I have to?—”
“QUAAAAAACK!”
The sound was pure panic, coming from outside. Fred’s voice, high and distressed, followed by a deeper, more aggressive quacking.
They dropped everything and ran.
CHEDDAR LATE THAN NEVER
The scene outside was chaos.
Fred was running—or rather, waddling—at top speed across the farmyard, his wings flapping frantically. Behind him, moving with surprising agility for her size, was the largest duck Minerva had ever seen. She had to be twice Fred’s size, with glossy brown feathers and an expression that could only be described as determined devotion.
“Quack quack quack!” Fred was frantic, flying straight for the clothesline where the silk ribbons were hanging to dry.
“Fred, no!” Bayard shouted, but it was too late.
Fred attempted to fly under the low-hanging line, but his anxiety made him clumsy. He crashed directly into one of the flimsy support poles.
The entire clothesline swayed, tilted, and then collapsed.
Dozens of hand-dyed silk ribbons, each one blessed and cured in the magical sunlight, flew into the air. They scattered everywhere like a rainbow explosion. They flew across the yard,into the cow pasture, up into the trees, and wrapped themselves around the dreamcatchers.
“Over here, Fred! I’ve got you!” Exandra called, holding up his carrier. Fred dove into the proffered backpack, gratefully and speedily taking refuge in the safe space.
The larger duck suddenly stopped her pursuit, looking confused about where her target had gone.
“Oh, no,” Blythe breathed, emerging from the Creamery with the dwarves behind her. “Oh, no, no, no. The ribbons! The Yule order!”
Exandra was already moving, holding a ruffled and indignant Fred in her arms. “You need to get your duck under control!” she snapped at Blythe.
“I’m not sure what you mean by that. We don’t ‘control’ anyone or anything here at Meadowsweet Farms,” Blythe protested. “Helga’s just friendly. She doesn’t mean any harm.”
“Friendly?” Exandra clutched Fred protectively to her chest. The little duck was shaking in his carrier, and she worried that he’d been traumatized by the incident. “That’s harassment. Fred made his lack of interest perfectly clear. Like cheesemaker, like duck,” she added angrily under her breath.
The dwarves surveyed the disaster with grim expressions. The grizzled one who’d glared at Bayard earlier stepped forward.
“This is a catastrophe,” he said, his deep voice thick with accusation. “Those ribbons took three days to dye and bless. Without them, the Yule cheeses can’t be properly wrapped. It’s our most important order of the year...”
“I’ll help,” Bayard volunteered. “We’ll all help. We can gather them, surely?—”
The dwarf’s eyes narrowed. “Convenient that you were just in the wrapping room. Alone.”
“I was checking the ventilation,” Bayard said, but he could hear how weak it sounded.
“Were you, now?” The dwarf crossed his arms. “And did the ventilation require you to touch our carefully hung muslin?”
Bayard’s face went pale.
Exandra stepped forward, still holding Fred. “He was investigating. At my request. There have been incidents at other fromageries—sabotage. We’re trying to prevent the same thing from happening here.”
“Seems to have happened anyway,” another dwarf muttered.
