As if on cue, they both toddled over to tug at Grandfather’s trousers, in a subtle hint that he should hold his present a little lower and let them enjoy it, too. He obliged.

“Ducky!” Jamie cooed happy. He was gently stroking the duck’s wing feathers.

“See,” I said. “They’ve already named him.”

“That’s not a name,” Grandfather growled. “It’s a generic description.”

“Ducky Lucky!” Josh said. He was pounding the duck on the head with the same vigor one would use on a large and rambunctious dog. Ducky Lucky seemed to take it all in stride.

“I rest my case.”

“Hmph!” Grandfather said.

“And see?” Michael put in. “He’s obviously quite tame enough to be a great addition to the petting zoo.”

Grandfather shook his head. But it wasn’t a “Hell, no!” headshake. More of a “What now?” He turned his attention to Ducky Lucky and his two human acolytes.

“Feel how oily his feathers are.” Grandfather demonstrated for the boys by stroking the duck’s feathers gently. “You know why that is?”

Both boys shook their heads and began massaging the duck’s feathers with enthusiasm.

“It makes them waterproof and keeps them warm. Come on—Let’s take Lucky out to the barn and I’ll teach you a few things about ducks.”

He strode out, and his tiny pupils tried to follow, though we had to stop them and stuff them into their winter wraps before we let them out. Dad grabbed several newly made ham-and-cheese sandwiches and trailed after them. Everyone else in the room let out a sigh of relief.

“So I guess I should tell Michael’s mother I couldn’t find a fresh duck?” Rob asked.

“Please,” Michael said. “I’m not sure I’ll ever want Peking duck again.”

“She won’t be happy,” I said. “Why not call whoever you got it from and demand a replacement that’s ready to cook?”

“I can’t do that,” Rob said. “I mean, he did deliver the duck. Besides, I don’t know his name. And I paid cash. I offered to write a check, but he insisted on cash. I got the feeling maybe he wasn’t really supposed to be selling the ducks. He was kind of hanging around the poultry section of the market, and came up to me when he overheard that I couldn’t get a fresh duck.”

“Let me get this straight,” Michael said. “The night before several hundred ducks were stolen from Quincy Shiffley’s farm, you made arrangements for a random Shiffley to deliver a live duck here.”

“A fresh duck,” Rob said.

“And sometime this morning you took delivery of what you already suspected might be a stolen duck.”