“Try reversing it,” Bayard suggested. “Newest to oldest?”
Exandra’s large, agile hands flew across the panel.
0:23 remaining.
At the very last moment, a green light flashed.
The door clicked open.
They stood there, breathing hard, covered in dust and sweat, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Then they embraced. But only for a moment.
“We did it,” Exandra whispered.
“We did.”
They stumbled through the door, back into the open air. They were standing in a private patio off the side of the fromagerie. And what they found there made both of them gasp.
AT A LOSS FOR CURDS
The sun was setting but the tile beneath their feet was still warm from the afternoon sunshine. Two outdoor spaceheaters, twin pillars of lit flame, would continue to keep the space warm for hours. It was a private setting; the thick vines that grew on the trellis walls provided a barrier, sheltering the patio from the rest of the courtyard’s view. Candles covered every spare surface, their light reflecting off the stone walls. It was the perfect setting for a romantic alfresco dinner, and the scene was set for precisely that.
A small table sat in the center of the space, draped in white linen, set for two diners. Wine glasses. Fresh flowers. And in the center of the table, a perfect wheel of Queso Luna, topped with blue orchids. It was already sliced and arranged on a board alongside some bread, olive tapenade, and sliced fresh fruit.
Soft music played from somewhere. Bayard recognized something classical and nauseatingly romantic.
And standing beside the table, looking entirely too pleased with themselves, were Minerva and Zephyr. They were clapping.
Clapping.
“Congratulations!” Minerva said warmly. “You two did it! You escaped with time to spare.”
Bayard stared. “What the devil?—?”
“The escape room!” Zephyr exclaimed. “Quite clever, wasn’t it? Raoul and Geraldo designed it for team-building exercises. We thought it would be perfect for?—”
“Wait a minute...” Exandra’s voice was dangerously low and quiet. “Theescape room?”
“The telegram was fake?” Bayard asked, his face going pale. “The emergency? The countdown?”
“The whole thing?” Exandra gasped.
“All part of the game,” Minerva said. “Though you took it wonderfully seriously. Really committed to the?—”
“You—” Exandra’s hands clenched into fists at her side. “You tricked us and you trapped us. You faked an emergency. You made us think—” Her voice rose. “Do you have any idea how worried we were? We thought the entire facility was going to be destroyed! We thought?—”
“We thought people would be hurt,” Bayard added, his voice shaking. “We thought the Culture Vulture’s efforts to destroy Yuletime celebrations had escalated. We thought—” He had to sit down. Once seated, he looked up at Minerva, anger and betrayal written across his face. “How could you two?”
Minerva and Zephyr exchanged a nervous look. This was not exactly going how they’d imagined it would.
“We were only trying to help,” Minerva squeaked. “You two have been dancing around each other for days, for decades, and neither of you will just talk?—”
“So you manipulated us?” Exandra’s voice boomed. “Locked us up in a room together? Thought you’d force us into some sort of—of—” Her lip curled as she gestured at the romantic setup. “This?”
“Well, yes,” Zephyr said, stepping in front of Minerva protectively. “That was rather the point, Exxie. It’s not like either of you were going to listen to reason. You needed a good shake-up, if you ask me!”
“Well, we didn’t ask you!” Bayard objected.
“Didn’t you?” Zephyr’s brow raised. “I seem to remember chatting with you on the frozen deck?—”
