Читать книгу Who Moved My Goat Cheese? - Lynn Cahoon - Страница 10

CHAPTER 3

A baby goat ran full bore at her and Dom as Angie walked toward the goat barn. Several older cars and trucks were parked by the side of the faded red barn. Dom hid behind her legs as the baby reached them. “Bah,” the almost all-black goat bleated. The much larger puppy whimpered and leaned into Angie.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Angie leaned down, keeping her tote in view so Dom wouldn’t take off with one of the boxes of cupcakes. She’d also brought Mr. Moss a loaf of homemade focaccia bread that she’d baked yesterday to round out the salad she’d perfected by dinner. She’d brewed the coffee this morning after grinding the beans she planned to serve at the restaurant. Angie was certain the food bribe was perfect. The tiny goat nuzzled her outstretched hand.

“Precious likes you. That’s a good sign.” A gruff voice called from the barn door and she looked up to find the cheese man standing watching her. “Legend has it that currying a newborn’s favor bestows luck on the recipient. Why don’t you drag that dog of yours over here to the porch and we’ll have some breakfast? The crew is almost done with the milking and the goats will be heading out to graze in about an hour.”

The sun had just risen over the mountain ridge to the east. The view included the river flowing through the canyon below as well as the first rays of sunshine filling the valley. The air smelled sweet like hay and grass and goats and milk, all mixed together. Angie set up the coffee, pouring cups for both of them, and opened a box of the prepackaged bakery goods. Then she pulled out the loaf of bread. “I can see why you love it out here. The view is amazing.”

“According to you and all those blood-sucking realtors.” Moss frowned at the plastic-wrapped loaf. “What’s that?”

“I made it last night. I thought you might enjoy a loaf.” She leaned back into the wooden Adirondack chair, a little worse for wear but still sturdy. Dom lay at her feet, keeping his gaze on the baby goat who now was trying to climb a rock in the middle of the driveway.

“No, I mean what is it?” He poked at the package. “My wife used to make bread. But that can’t be bread, it’s all round.”

“Focaccia bread. I mixed herbs from my grandmother’s garden into the dough. Your cheese complements the taste. I made a tomato caprese sandwich with it last night for dinner.” She sipped her coffee and closed her eyes for a moment. This place was heaven. No loud noise, no people, and no traffic, unless you counted the goats.

“I typically eat Wonder bread.” The old man shrugged, “But if you say it went good with the cheese, who am I to question. I’ll give it a go tonight with my stew.”

“I guess you want to know why I’m here.” She didn’t look at him, using her free hand to scratch Dom’s head.

“I asked around about you. You’re opening that fancy restaurant. You know you’re going to go broke. No one around here can pay that kind of price for a meal. Especially if you cheat them on the serving size. I swear, new places don’t know how to feed folks.” He unwrapped a cupcake and put the entire thing in his mouth. After a few swallows, he sipped on his coffee. “I guess I can’t stop you if you want to buy my cheese. As long as you treat it kindly. Some of these people haven’t eaten anything but that processed cheese spread you buy in loafs at the store. Even some of my milkers hadn’t ever tried it before they started working for me. Of course, now I can’t keep them out of the stuff.”

“I was hoping you’d show me around. The barn, the production shed, and maybe even the cheese cave if you think you’ll be selling the aged stuff sooner or later?” She took another long, deep breath. The place was hypnotic. She could feel the stress leaving her.

“Maybe someday.” His voice choked on the words. “I told your grandmother if I was ever going to share my secret, it would have to be with her. Since she’s gone, I guess it will have to be with her kin. I’ve kept that promise for over twenty years now. We can wait a few more months before I let you go inside.”

“The cheese cave? Is that what you’re talking about?” Angie didn’t sit up or open her eyes. The more she got him talking, the more she’d find out about him and his relationship to Nona.

“Secrets are meant to be kept, little girl.” He chuckled as he unwrapped a second cupcake. Angie could hear the cellophane wrapper crunching. She turned and looked at him before he spoke again. “You mark my words, nothing good comes of a leaked secret.”

A car pulled into the driveway and Reana Whiting waved from the driver’s seat. Angie sat up, wondering why the realtor who sold her the building for the restaurant would be out here on a Sunday morning. “That’s Reana. I wonder what she’s doing out here?”

“Must be the first of the month, if the gold digger’s here. She comes by once a month or so to give me an update on who wants to buy my land and for how much. I swear, I can see money signs in her eyes as she explains the offers.” He put his wrapper back in the box.

“I didn’t realize your place was up for sale.” She glanced around at the wide expanse of land. She could see either a group of overpriced condos hugging the cliff area and maybe some larger estate homes dotting the landscape. People would pay big for this view, even if it was a good forty-five minutes from Boise.

“It’s not. And I’ve told her that over and over.” Old Man Moss winked. “I think the girl’s gone a little sweet on me. She brings me out homemade cookies when she comes.”

Dom barked at the newcomer and Angie held on to his leash. “I guess we’ll be going then. Maybe I can come back and visit sometime soon?”

“I hope so. At least I know what you want, not like her or that no good nephew of mine.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to bore you with my family troubles. I know Margaret said you had your own tragedies in your life. And yes, I’ll sell you as much cheese as you want to buy, so just call me and leave a message with your order on my answering machine. We’ll deliver each Saturday to your shop.”

“I appreciate it. I do still want to do a tour of your place soon. As a farm-to-table chef, I like to know where my product is coming from.” Angie stood and gathered the coffee carafe into her bag. “And I’d really like to see your cheese cave.”

Old Man Moss shook his head. “You aren’t going into the cave. Not yet. Didn’t you listen when I said it was where the secrets stay? I’ll show you the barn processing plant, that’s the only cheese they’ll let me sell anyway.”

Angie blew out a breath. She wasn’t going to change his mind. At least she wouldn’t without a bribe that probably included a whole truckload of the individually wrapped cupcakes. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she began.

“Then don’t bring it up again. I don’t see what the big deal about my cave is. Last month, someone snuck into it and made a mess of things.” He didn’t get up from the wooden chair. “Come by next Sunday and I’ll take you on a tour of the place. We might even hike down to the river if you’re up for the walk.”

Angie hitched her tote onto her shoulder, unable to keep the smile from curving her lips. “That would be nice. I hope you enjoy the bread.” She stepped away from the chairs and met up with the realtor as she slowly approached, her gait uneven on the dirt driveway in her platform heels. “Hey Reana, didn’t know I’d see you this morning.”

“Gerald and I are old friends.” Reana leaned down to Dom and cradled his chin. “Nice to see you again too, big boy.”

Dom’s tail wagged so hard he almost pulled his leash out of Angie’s hand. She tightened her grip and aimed Dom toward the car and away from the expensive suit before he could leave paw prints on Reana’s pants. “I’ve got to get back to town. I have a lot to do before opening.”

As she started up the car, she watched Reana and Gerald Moss greet each other. There was a tinge of familiarity in the way the two hugged, not quite friends and especially not lovers. But something. “None of our business, right Dom?”

She backed out of the driveway and turned back on the narrow dirt road that would lead her back to the highway. Precious stood at the edge of the property and watched her go. At least she’d gotten the goat’s blessing. Now, she just needed to sweet talk Ian into letting her source her foods supplies from his bank of farmers. Then she’d be able to finalize the menu, pull off her first family tasting meal for the staff, and actually make opening night, which was less than three weeks away.

“That’s all,” she said as she adjusted her rearview mirror to make sure the goat wasn’t following. She’d hate to let her good luck charm out and have her become road kill her first week on earth.

* * * *

Monday morning, she was deep into making some strawberry jam when a knock came on her kitchen door. Wiping her hands on a towel, she looked out the window over the sink. A large new Ram truck sat in her driveway next to what appeared to be a police cruiser. Her gut twisted. Felicia must have gotten hurt on her trip to the local festival. She hadn’t texted last night and Angie had been giving her some time before she called. A car accident? Or maybe something at the festival? Or someone? She squared her shoulders and went to open the door. As she’d expected, a police officer stood in his uniform next to Ian McNeal. What in the world was he doing here?

“Miss Turner? I’m Sheriff Allen Brown. I understand you’ve already met Mr. McNeal here?” The sheriff nodded to Ian, but neither man met Angie’s gaze.

“I have. What’s going on? Did something happen to Felicia? Or the restaurant?” Oh God, maybe the building burned down. Or the guy working in the restaurant had been hurt. Had she paid the insurance on time this month? If she got sued without even opening The County Seat’s doors, she’d never dig out of the legal costs.

“Can we come in?” The sheriff took off his wide brimmed hand and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the sweat beads off his too wide and too tall forehead. “It’s mighty hot already. I think summer’s going to be a scorcher.”

“Of course, I’m sorry, come on in.” She pointed to the dining room table where her jars were set up for the jam that bubbled on the stove. She looked around the room and said the obvious. “I’m making jam.”

“My mama used to make strawberry jam every summer. I loved that stuff.” The sheriff didn’t sit, standing near the door with his hat in his hand. “Look, ma’am, I hate to do this, but I need to ask you some questions.”

“About?”

The sheriff looked at Ian who raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I need to know if you met with Old Man, I mean, Gerald Moss yesterday.”

“Yes. I wanted to set him up as a vendor for the restaurant. He invited me over Sunday morning for an early breakfast to talk about the proposal.” She squinted her eyes at both men. “That can’t be illegal.”

Ian pulled out one of the chairs from the kitchen table. “Why don’t you sit down, Ms. Turner.”

“Why should I sit down?” She looked from Ian to the sheriff. “I don’t understand. Visiting him wasn’t against the law. I mean, seriously? Why are you making my life so difficult?”

“No ma’am, visiting isn’t illegal, but, well, I’m afraid murder is.” The sheriff turned his hat over and over in his broad hands.

She sank into the chair Ian had pulled out for her, her energy sapped. “Murder?” She repeated the word, knowing she sounded like a magpie. “Who was murdered?”

The sheriff took a chair and sat next to her. “Gerald Moss. Hikers found his body at the bottom of the canyon just a few hours ago.”