Who Moved My Goat Cheese?. Lynn Cahoon
Читать онлайн книгу.
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.
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