Page 3 of Holiday Cheese and Capers
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Jasper looked relieved to have a concrete task. “Come on, Fred. Let’s... stretch... our legs.”
Fred gave Wren one last look of longing before waddling after Jasper, who was already muttering to himself again about cheese profiles and cabin assignments.
“That poor boy,” Minerva said quietly once Wren had gone. “He seemed quite smitten with the blogger.”
“Instant attraction. It happens,” Zephyr said with a knowing smile. “Remember when we were that awkward, Min?” Zephyr swiped a pair of champagne glasses from a passing tray and handed one to Minerva.
“Speak for yourself. I was always perfectly composed.”
“You once stammered for five full minutes trying to ask me to the Harvest Dance.”
“I did no such thing.”
“You absolutely did. It was adorable.”
Bayard chuckled, making a note on his list. “Well, my intern has a great deal of work to do and Miss Connelly has an article to write. I don’t know that there’ll be any time for romance, what with all the educational content we have planned.”
Zephyr looked stricken. “No time for romance? What kind of nonsense is that, Bayard? This trip is meant to be our honeymoon.”
Bayard glanced back at the two of them, a sheepish look coming across his face. “Of course. How silly of me. I mean I planned this whole itinerary as a sort of homage to the two of you.”
“Don’t you mean afromage?” Zephyr quipped. He wagged his eyebrows for added comic effect.
Minerva groaned. “Zippy, enough with the terrible dad jokes!” Minerva turned to the other man. “I’m sorry, Bayard. Ever since he learned about this particular brand of Ordinary humor, he’s been insufferable.”
“Very punny.” Bayard nodded. “But you knew what I meant. You two have so much to celebrate. You’re an inspiration. I wanted this first cruise of my new retirement life to include my old friends.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Zephyr said. He and Minerva raised their glasses and clinked them with Bayard. There was still a hint of sadness around Bayard’s eyes, though. He kept scanning the horizon as if looking for someone else, someone missing.
“Now, do you two want to get settled in your cabin before the reception?” Bayard asked. “We’ll be serving samples of tomorrow’s featured cheese—a beautiful Gruyère de Comté that’s essential for proper Yule fondue.”
“Point us in the right direction to get to our staterooms,” Zephyr said. “Though I reserve the right to sample some of the cheeses while we unpack.” Zephyr swiped a few samples from the tiered table to take with them back to their room.
“I would expect nothing less,” Bayard said warmly.
As they collected a few flyers with information about the itinerary and headed toward the cabins, Minerva glanced back at the outside deck. Jasper was leaning against the railing, Fred at his feet, watching Wren as she photographed the Yule decorations. She took her notebook out and made a few notes. Even from a distance, through a fogged up window, Minerva could read the young man’s expression. Lovestruck. It was a direct hit. Cupid’s arrow had pierced the armor of his clipboard.
She smiled to herself. A pinch of romance was always a welcome spice in her book, and particularly around the holidays.
A WHEEL-COME RECEPTION
An hour later, the aft deck lounge was abuzz with excited passengers. A jazz pianist played the classics in one corner and an open bar served signature cocktails in another. Small bar height tables draped in cream linen dotted the area, each topped with a flickering lantern that cast dancing shadows. Servers circulated with trays of champagne that sparkled with tiny star-shaped bubbles. The tiered cheese display was recreated on the light buffet, each level now holding artfully arranged wedges of a pale, almost translucent, ivory-colored cheese.
Minerva and Zephyr had claimed a table near the windows where they could watch the sun make its descent over Geneva’s skyline. The Ordinary world felt far away now, separated by more than just the glamor. They were also in that liminal space between land and journey, ready to slip away into adventure.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboardThe Celestine Queen!” Bayard stood at a small podium, Fred sat perched on a cushioned stool beside him. The wizard had changed into a more formal tweed jacket, this one with subtle bronze threading that caught the lantern light. His blue trainers, however, remained.“My name is Bayard Fontaine, and I have the tremendous honor of being your guest lecturer for this Yuletide journey through the magical cheese-making regions of Europe.”
A small round of applause rippled through the assembled passengers. Minerva counted perhaps forty guests—an intimate group, just as she’d hoped.
“For those who don’t know me,” Bayard continued, “I spent nearly a century with the French Canadian division of The Society for the Protection of Natural Magic. I mainly worked in the research wing as an information specialist. My true passion as a supernatural anthropologist has always been cultural preservation, including the ways that magic enhances and protects traditional methods of food production, celebration, and consumption. Cheese is a perfect example, and, given the season, seemed like the perfect place to start a lecture series.” He paused now, smiling and nodding at Zephyr and Minerva. “And given the fact that I have some old friends who happen to own a fromagerie on board for this trip, you’re all sure to be in good hands. If there’s any question I can’t answer about cheese, I feel confident that Minerva and Zephyr can!”
Minerva felt Zephyr squeeze her hand. This was his old friend’s dream—sharing his knowledge with others, traveling the waterways he’d always loved, pursuing joy instead of chasing danger.
“Tomorrow,” Bayard said, his voice warming with enthusiasm, “we’ll visit our first fromagerie, a family-run operation in the Swiss Alps that produces Gruyère de Comté in the traditional style. But this isn’t just any cheese—it’s the very foundation of Yule celebrations across all of magical Europe.”
He gestured, and Jasper began distributing small plates, each holding a generous wedge of the pale cheese. The intern seemed somewhat less frantic now. Wren was settled two tables over, notebook open, but Minerva noticed she was actually listening more than she was taking notes.
“Gruyère requiresLactobacillus helveticusandStreptococcus thermophilus. Those are two bacterial cultures that must be kept in perfect balance,” Bayard explained. “The cheese ages for a minimum of five months in caves where the temperature never varies more than a single degree. In magical production, the caves themselves are alive with preservation spells, some of which have been maintained for centuries.”
