Читать книгу Who Moved My Goat Cheese? - Lynn Cahoon - Страница 9

CHAPTER 2

The next morning, the first thing on her list was a trip into town and the farmers’ market. Based on what she found, lunch could be interesting.

She put a handful of shopping bags into the back of her crossover and returned to the house to get Dom’s leash. The dog sat at the front door, looking out the screen, whining. “Hold, on, you can go, but you have to use your good boy manners today.”

Dom was a sweetheart. At his worse, he’d sit on someone’s foot or slobber them to death. Kirk was right. Dom was not quite the guard dog she’d been planning on getting, but as soon as she’d seen the litter, Angie knew that she wasn’t leaving without one of the pups.

They drove the ten miles into town with the radio blaring and the sunroof open. There on the edge of the city limits sat the old high school gym. The school district had kept the gym and the land where the high school originally set and now rented it out for community events. Like the weekly farmers’ market. Just a little farther down Main Street, on the other side of town was the building she’d bought for the restaurant. River Vista was tiny as far as cities went, more like a village. Angie sighed as they passed the town limit sign. She’d always felt a special connection with River Vista even before she’d moved here full time to live with her grandmother. The town sign boasted 400 residents, but the majority of the population lived outside city limits, enjoying the weekend farmer lifestyle while still keeping their corporate jobs in Boise.

The market was almost all set up and customers were starting to arrive and park on the roads. Across the street sat the only grocery store in town. Angie could get most things she needed for the restaurant right here in River Vista. As long as Ian McNeal got off his high horse and decided to sell to The County Seat.

She clipped Dom’s leash on his collar and started through the stands. As she strolled, she purchased Idaho walnuts, a bag of fresh baby spinach, more onions, and a couple large bags of different types of cherries. From the large sweet Bing cherries to a smaller, sour cherry that would be perfect for a tart, her bag was heavy before she found Ian McNeal standing at a booth, arguing with an older man who was setting out ice. As she watched, the man sat plastic bags filled with a curd type cheese in the display. She stepped closer to examine the offerings.

“All I’m saying is you can’t sell the aged cheese until you get permission from the Department of Agriculture. You know Mildred just wants to examine your cheese cave.” Ian’s voice seemed too Scottish for the rural Idaho scene. Angie expected him to rip off his t-shirt and jeans and let down his kilt. She tilted her head down as she tried to get the smile off her face and the image out of her head.

“I’m not letting those vultures anywhere near my cave. You know all they want to do is shut me down. Mildred’s been looking for an excuse to get me out of the goat cheese business for years. She’s in cahoots with the Simpson Dairy in Meridian.” The other man put the wheels of cheese back in the cooler. “I bet they pay a pretty penny for her protection.”

“No one is trying to shut you down.” Ian took a step toward Angie and Dom inserted himself between the two, barring his teeth and growling. “Seriously? Whose dog is this?”

Angie pulled Dom’s leash and moved him to a sitting position next to her. “Mine.” She put her hand on Dom’s head. “He doesn’t like loud arguments.”

Ian ran a hand through his hair. “We weren’t arguing.”

“Seemed like it to me,” the man she now knew had to be Old Man Moss mumbled. “Dogs are good judges of character. Like goats.”

Ian took a step back. “Look, I’m just trying to keep the market open. I’m not the bad guy here.”

“But you are Ian McNeal, right? I’m glad I ran into you. I need to talk to you about something,” Angie took her business card out of her jacket. “I’m the new chef/owner over at The County Seat and I understand you are banning the market from selling produce to me.”

He took the card, looked at it and her for a long minute, then slipped it into his pocket. “That’s not exactly what I told your business associate, Mrs. Turner.”

“It’s Ms. Turner. And good, I’m glad Felicia misunderstood. I’m opening in less than a month and I need your produce to even come close to the restaurant’s concept. Can we sit down early next week and set up an ordering process?”

“Ian, the guy from Marsing Fish Farm is here with the trout, where do you want him to set up?” A voice called from down the line of booths.

“I’ll be right there.” He turned back to Angie. “I didn’t quite say she misunderstood my meaning. Look, call me on Monday, we’ll talk about my hesitations. I’m a little busy today.”

Before he walked away, he turned back to the man in the booth. “Don’t be selling that aged cheese here. All you have the permit for is the curds, okay?”

Old Man Moss fell into a lawn chair with a travel cup of what Angie was sure wasn’t just straight coffee. “Who died and made you king?” He frowned at Angie, just noticing her still at the counter. “You want to buy something or what?”

Angie nodded. “I need two pounds of your curds. And I’d love to talk to you about supplying my restaurant.” She fumbled for one of her cards. “Can I visit you tomorrow?”

“Turner? You Margaret’s granddaughter? She was a Turner.” He peered at the card, then tucked it into the front pocket on his overalls.

“Margaret was my Nona, yes.” Angie smiled at the man, thankful her grandmother had been well known in the community before her passing. “I’m Angie.”

“Well, Angie, I owe your grandmother enough that I can give you a few minutes to talk.” He placed two bags of the cheese in a plastic bag that had seen better days. “We’ll finish milking about six tomorrow morning. If you wanted to bring out some coffee and Ding Dongs, I’d give you some time.”

“Ding Dongs? Like the chocolate cupcakes? Do they even still make those?” She took the bag and handed him a twenty.

“Of course they do.” Glaring at the bill, he pulled out a thick wad of paper money and put her bill in the middle, then counted her out ten dollars in change. One five, and five ones. “You can get them over at the market.” He nodded to the grocery store across the street. “They have lots of good stuff in there.”

Dom woofed and waged his tail, apparently agreeing with the cheese guy. For the first time that morning, Angie saw a smile come across the old man’s face. A few missing teeth didn’t dim the real feeling behind the emotion. “You can bring him too. I bet he’d like to meet my blue heelers. Now, those are herding dogs.”

“Dom’s more of a lap dog.” Angie tucked the cheese into her already overfilled shopping bag.

“I suppose that Potter woman who lived next door to Margaret is still alive? Evil tends to live forever, yet angels like your grandmother go too quickly.” He paused, watching her reaction.

“My neighbor? Mrs. Potter?” Angie felt confused at the change of subject. “Yes, she’s still alive.”

“Too bad.” With that, he walked away to talk to the man in the next stall. The conversation was apparently over.

Angie wandered through the booths, picking up a few more items, letting her mind work on the salad she’d been thinking about all morning. Good thing she’d brought Dom today. He’d been her good luck charm with the cheese man. She had accomplished both things on her must do list for today. Now all she needed to do was pick up some of the old man’s treats and head home to play with the salad recipe. She’d talk to Mrs. Potter and see why Old Man Moss didn’t like her one bit. Probably an old feud that neither one of them could remember how it started.

Angie ran into the grocery store after parking in the front row and rolling down all of the windows halfway. She’d found the packaged cupcakes on an endcap and headed to the front to check out. Angie could see Dom sitting in the driver’s seat, watching her through the plate glass windows. The clerk rang up the two boxes and bagged them as she called out the total. “I don’t sell a lot of these except to the teenagers and Mr. Moss. He buys them by the case when he comes into town.”

“I’m going to visit him tomorrow at the goat barn, so I was warned to bring treats.” She swiped her debit card and took the receipt and bag from the clerk.

“I haven’t been out there since high school. Our FFA teacher took us out to show us the cheese making facility. The lesson was something about small businesses being worth supporting. My dad almost blew a fuse when he found out. We run a big dairy farm west of town. Apparently, goat cheese is too subsidized in the dairy guys’ minds.” The girl leaned against the checkout stand and pointed to Angie’s SUV. “That your dog? He’s going to be huge.”

Angie laughed. “I might have to buy a truck just so Dom can keep going places with me.”

The young girl shrugged. “Well, no one’s going to mess with your stuff while you’re gone. Even if he doesn’t bite, he could lick someone to death. Or sit on them.”

Angie made her way out to the car. She put the bags in the back where Dom couldn’t get access due to the dog restraint she’d had installed between the back of the car and the back seat. Not that Dom ever went in the back, but at least she could buy stuff and get it home. The iron bars reminded Angie of her one and only time in the back of a cop car after joy riding with Brad Moore, junior year.

She turned the car back onto Main Street, toward the restaurant. Felicia was living in the apartment on the second floor of the building. There was a chance she was home. And a slimmer chance that she was alone.

Angie didn’t have to worry about meeting the latest man of the moment. Felicia sat outside on the benches they’d built for overflow customers to use while they waited. She’d wanted to set up café tables on the sidewalk but the city council hadn’t been swayed by her argument. Benches would have to do until she had the numbers to back up her need for more seating. Felicia opened the passenger side door and took Dom’s leash, leading him toward the bench.

There wasn’t a lot of traffic on River Vista’s Main Street, especially not at ten in the morning, but Dom needed the consistency, especially since he ran free out at the farm. When he left the property lines, he was on the leash. Hopefully that would keep him from straying. Angie had only had the dog for a few months, but she’d be lost without him.

“Come for a walk through? The kitchen guy is supposed to be here sometime this morning so I thought I’d take my coffee out here and get a little sun while I waited.” Felicia waved her hand at the travel cup sitting on the built-in end table along with one of those romance novels with the guy in the kilt. The cover made Angie think of Ian McNeal, and heat bloomed in her face. She shook the thought away and focused on the subject of the book. Lately Felicia had been reading anything she could get her hands on that had time travel involved in the story line. Angie’s reading had consisted of foodie cookbooks and memoirs, with an occasional murder mystery thrown in the mix.

“Actually, I was in town at the farmers’ market. I’ve got an appointment to meet with Ian on Monday. I think he’s warming up to me.” Dom looked at her and barked his disapproval of the idea. “Okay, maybe not, but at least I have an appointment. Tomorrow, I’m meeting with our cheese supplier.”

“So you’ve completed your to do list. Why don’t we head over to Emmett for the Cherry Festival later this afternoon? I’m sure we can rustle up a group to come along.” They were now in the kitchen. The main remodel had been finished, now all that needed done was to refurbish or replace the kitchen fixtures and appliances. She hadn’t kept much from the original building, mostly because the Mexican restaurant that had occupied the space had been closed for years. She didn’t know if she could trust any of the appliances. Besides, she had the money now, no need to be penny wise and pound foolish as Nona used to say.

Angie brought her attention back to her friend. “Sorry, I’m going to play with some salad recipes for opening day. I bought the sweetest Bing cherries that are screaming at me to make them into some type of vinaigrette.”

“If I didn’t know you better, I would think you were teasing. The kitchen guy’s going to be here until about five, but after that, I’m heading back out to play. That festival was rocking last night. Today, it should be amazing sauce.”

“Just be careful.” Angie looked around the shiny, new, empty room. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Again.”

She turned toward Felicia. “What did you say?”

“You said you couldn’t believe we were starting up a restaurant and I said, again. You tend to forget we made el pescado a success. We can do this. And before you mention our third partner’s name, you know Todd just showed up when the pictures were being taken.” Felicia crossed her arms, challenging Angie to disagree.

“That’s not true, Todd was there at the beginning.” Angie tried to remember the work before the opening, but the only scenes she could wring out of her memories of that crazy time had her and Felicia scrubbing the old tables, down on their knees scraping the years of wax buildup off the floor. Where had Todd been? “Okay, so maybe not.”

Felicia put her arm around Angie. “We can do this, we did it before.”

Angie walked Dom out to the car. “Call me tomorrow morning and let me know you’re okay. Or text me when you get home tonight. I worry about you.”

Felicia followed her out to the car and leaned on the passenger side door, one hand patting Dom. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself, especially here in Hicksville.”

“It’s not all sunshine and roses, just remember that. I grew up here. Some of the guys are real jerks.” She wanted to add paternalistic, male dominant, rednecks, but since she’d been gone more years than she actually lived in River Vista, she kept those descriptors to herself.

“You worry too much.” Felicia mussed Dom’s hair and he lay down in the seat. “Talk to you soon. Have fun with that salad.”

And that was the thing Felicia didn’t understand about her, Angie thought as she pulled the car into the street, waiting for the older Ford truck filled with a load of alfalfa bales to pass by. She slowly followed him out of town until she could see far enough ahead to pass, then she hit the gas.

She would have fun trying new tastes and textures for the salad. For some people, making one version was enough. Angie liked to take okay to fabulous. And the only way to do that was to try a few different versions. The County Seat would be the destination restaurant for not only local foodies, but she hoped she could draw in diners from all over the Gem State. At least, she’d put up her best attempt at wowing them with food. If it didn’t work, she’d done her best and she’d look for a job cooking at one of the high-class spots in Boise.

But the restaurant was going to be successful so there was no need for a plan B.