Chapter 1 #2
Fred, a perfectly groomed petite duck with pristine white feathers and bright orange feet, gave Minerva an appraising look, then nodded at her as if she’d passed some test.
“He’s magnificent,” Minerva said sincerely.
“Uh… Mr. Fontaine? Sorry to interrupt but I think these sign-up sheets are supposed to be alphabetical, but someone organized them by cabin number instead, and now I can’t find the Andersons, and also should the cheese samples be refrigerated? They’re looking a bit warm, and—oh!”
A young man with tousled brown hair and an abundance of nervous energy had appeared at Bayard’s elbow, clutching a clipboard and looking thoroughly overwhelmed. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, with the eager-puppy dog quality of someone desperate to be helpful but unsure how.
“Jasper, don’t forget to breathe,” Bayard said kindly. “The Andersons are in cabin B-7, the sheets are fine as they are, and the cheese is meant to be served at room temperature.”
“Right. Yes. Of course. Room temperature. For the... the flavor profiles.” Jasper pushed his glasses up his nose. “I knew that. I definitely knew that.”
“Jasper is studying Magical Hospitality in Edinburgh,” Bayard explained to Zephyr and Minerva. “He’s been invaluable in helping me prepare for this lecture series. He’s also working as an intern here on the ship during his school break.”
“Is this your first cruise, then?” Zephyr asked the young man.
“First cruise, first real hospitality job, first time working with a celebrity guest lecturer,” Jasper said, his words tumbling out. “Not that you’re a celebrity, Mr. Fontaine—I mean, you are! In polymath circles. Which are the best circles. The most important circles, when you think about—”
“Excuse me?” a clear, professional voice interrupted. “I’m Wren Connelly, travel blogger for Enchanted Journeys. I was hoping to meet Bayard Fontaine? I’m working on an article about the Magical Cheese and Waterways tour.”
Minerva turned to see a striking young woman in her mid-twenties, long, auburn hair in a practical braid. She carried a small, lightweight leather satchel and a notebook. She had the crisp, efficient air of someone who took her work seriously.
Jasper’s mouth fell open. His clipboard tilted to a dangerous angle and the pen rolled right off it. He lunged to retrieve it before it rolled away.
“Yes! Right! You’re on the list!” he said breathlessly, a little too loudly. “Wren Connelly. Travel blogger. VIP. Very important. We’re so honored. Not that other guests aren’t important! Everyone’s important. But reviewing us is... you’re reviewing us. The tour. With words. That people read.”
Wren’s lips twitched with amusement. “That is generally how reviews work, yes.”
“I’ll just—let me find your—” Jasper frantically shuffled papers, dropping several. “Your cabin assignment is—Fred, could you not—”
The duck had waddled over to Wren and was now sitting on her foot, looking up at her with adoring eyes.
“Quack,” Fred said admiringly. For such a limited vocabulary, the small duck was remarkably expressive.
“Well, hello there, handsome,” Wren said, her professional demeanor softening as she crouched down. “Aren’t you a charmer?”
Fred preened, fluffing his feathers.
“Oh, my. He really likes you,” Bayard observed. “And Fred is an excellent judge of character.”
“I’m a sucker for familiars,” Wren admitted, gently stroking Fred’s head. “I have a cat at home—just an ordinary one, though. He hates traveling, unfortunately. I miss him already.”
“CABIN B-14!” Jasper announced triumphantly, holding up a paper like he’d discovered gold. “You’re in cabin B-14. Which is a very good cabin. Probably. I mean, they’re all good cabins. But yours is... it has a window.”
“Most cabins do,” Wren said gently and stood up. Fred promptly sat back down on her foot, in a bid for her attention.
Bayard caught Minerva’s eye, and she could see him trying not to laugh.
“Jasper,” Bayard said kindly, “why don’t you take Fred for a little walk around the deck? I think he needs to stretch his legs before the welcome reception. His harness is in my bag.” Bayard pointed to a leather backpack beneath the table.
“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 a fromage?” 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.