The Goose Owns the Bank

How it begins

Beatrice Fen ate the mortgage on the bakery before the accountant finished introducing himself.

Hugo Quill watched the final strip of paper disappear into her beak. 'That was an enforceable instrument.'

'It tasted enforceable.'

He sat down. The town's newest bank owner had inherited the building, the deposits and an alarming number of documents whose legal significance she apparently assessed by texture. As an accountant, Hugo had expected resistance to reform. He had not expected digestion.

Outside, the bakery bell rang. A young adult rabbit ran into the street holding a tray of rolls. The flour on her apron glowed faintly. Above the bank counter, a small golden egg appeared and landed in the wastebasket.

Hugo removed it with a ruler.

'What is that?' Beatrice asked.

'I was hoping you'd know.'

The egg cracked. A tiny door unfolded from its shell, complete with a painted OPEN sign. Through it came the smell of bread. Beatrice leaned closer.

'The bakery extension,' she said. 'She told me she'd build it if she ever finished paying.'

Hugo checked the loan ledger. The debt had vanished. In its place appeared an unfamiliar account heading: POSSIBILITY REALIZED.

He looked at the shelves of mortgages, medical loans and the expensive bridge bond nobody liked discussing. If each forgiven debt became something people might otherwise have done, the town's balance sheet had more hidden entries than any audit could hold.

Beatrice reached for another document. Hugo put his ruler across it.

'We must understand the deposits first.'

She looked offended, then thoughtful.

At the door, the mayor arrived wearing the smile he used for charitable photographs. His gaze passed the golden shell and fixed on a locked drawer behind the counter.

'Congratulations on your inheritance,' he said. 'There is one old account I should explain privately.'

The drawer began to peep.