Chapter 29 Final Curds
FINAL CURDS
As the feast progressed through each course—the Roquefort with fresh figs, the Brie baked in phyllo, the rainbow cheddar with accompaniments, the Queso Luna on crostini—the servers prepared for the final course. The Angel’s Snow Risotto would be the grand finale of the evening.
Bayard tapped his glass with a spoon in order to call the lively group back to order.
“I’d like to wrap up the evening with a word from a representative from the Celestine Line. She has some exciting cruise news to share with you. She’s based in Italy and we are so fortunate to have her here with us tonight. Without further ado, please welcome Eleanor Celestine.”
A distinguished-looking witch in a navy silk gown with bright gold buttons rose slowly and proceeded to the podium.
“Before we serve our final course,” she announced in perfect English, “I want to thank you all for being part of this Magical Waterways tour. Your enthusiasm and adventurous spirits have made this voyage truly special. All of us at the Celestine Line are grateful that you have trusted us with your travels. We look forward to greeting you again.” She smiled warmly at the crowd.
“And on that note, I’m pleased to announce that based on the success of this cruise, we’ll be expanding our lecture series offerings even further.
We have some exciting new programs in development that will combine education with.
.. well, with a little bit more mystery than we originally planned. ”
Curious whispers rippled through the room as the guests speculated about what this might mean.
“Actually,” Eleanor continued, “I’d like to invite Bayard Fontaine and Agent Exandra Thorne to say a few words about these new programs.”
Bayard and Exandra looked at each other, and Exandra nodded. Bayard squeezed her hand. They stood up together.
Eleanor handed the microphone back to Bayard and returned to her seat.
“We have an announcement,” Bayard began. “Over the past few hours, Exandra and I have been discussing a new collaboration with the cruise line.”
“Many of you expressed disappointment,” Exandra added, “when we announced that the Culture Vulture had been apprehended. Several of you mentioned that the mystery—the excitement of trying to solve what was happening—was one of your favorite parts of the cruise.”
“So we thought,” Bayard continued, “what if that experience wasn’t a bug, but a feature?
What if we created cruises specifically designed around solving mysteries?
Nothing dangerous,” he added quickly. “Fabricated scenarios, puzzles to solve, clues to find. A chance to play detective while learning about cheese, or wine, or magical history, or any number of subjects.”
“Bayard would continue his lecture series, naturally,” Exandra said, “and I would design and orchestrate the mysteries. We’d work together to create immersive experiences that combine education with adventure.”
“We’re calling it Adventures at Sea,” they said together. “And the first cruise launches next season.”
The room exploded with applause.
“I want to book right now!” someone shouted.
“Can we sign up for the first voyage?” another passenger called out.
Eleanor beamed. “We’ll be taking reservations starting next week. I suspect they’ll fill up quickly.”
Wren, sitting with Jasper, was already jotting notes on her napkin. “This is just incredible,” she said. “My article was going to be about a cheese cruise, but now it’s about so much more! Love and mystery and transformation and—” She looked at Jasper. “This is the best story I’ve ever covered.”
“Can I be in the article?” Jasper asked hopefully. “With photo credit?”
She kissed him. “Obviously.”
After the applause died down and Bayard and Exandra finished answering questions and sat back down, the servers brought out the final course.
It was the most perfect risotto any of them had ever seen.
The rice was creamy, tender, and expertly cooked.
Butter and wine created a rich, savory, melt-in-your-mouth base.
But it was not ready to be consumed. Not just yet.
Brother Tomasso stood. “Now,” he said, “we add the Angel’s Snow.”
The servers moved through the room with the freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. And as they sprinkled it over each dish, something quite remarkable happened.
The cheese didn’t merely fall onto the risotto. It floated.
Tiny flakes of golden-white Parmesan drifted and fluttered like snow, each piece catching the candlelight and casting rainbow prisms about the room as it made its way down to the dish.
And as the Angel’s Snow settled into the risotto, everything in the atrium seemed to shimmer. Colors became brighter, richer. The aromas intensified. Suddenly everyone could smell not just the cheese, but every herb, every note of butter, every complex flavor layered in the dish.
“The blessing of abundance,” Brother Tomasso said softly. “What was already good becomes magnificent. What was already beautiful becomes radiant. The snow doesn’t change the dish. It reveals what was always there, waiting to be appreciated.”
Outside the windows, as if responding to the magic inside, real snow began to fall. Soft, fat flakes drifting down from the dark sky, settling on the ship’s deck, on the distant mountains, transforming the world into something new.