Who Moved My Goat Cheese?. Lynn Cahoon

Who Moved My Goat Cheese? - Lynn Cahoon


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      “I’m Angie Turner. We have an appointment in a couple of weeks for his boosters.” She stepped closer and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

      “Well, welcome to the neighborhood Miss Angie. I’m sure you’ll love it here. But you might want to be careful walking out here alone. I’m not sure your pup’s much protection.” He rubbed Dom’s tummy.

      “We’ll be fine.” She looked around the too empty space, finally settling her gaze on the bed of the pickup filled with silver irrigation tubes. “Don’t tell me you farm too?”

      “Guilty as charged. This whole eighty acres is mine, although since it didn’t come with a house, I’m living in town over the vet clinic.” He stood and Dom sat by his foot, leaning into his new friend’s leg. “Someday I’ll build a place out here, but student loans are a blessing and a curse.”

      Angie nodded. “I just paid mine off, now I’m back in debt for the new restaurant I’m opening, The County Seat, next month.”

      “You’re the one opening the new restaurant in town? I’ve heard good things.” He glanced at the setting sun and put out his hand. “Nice to meet you and Dom. I need to get water set before it gets too dark to see.”

      She shook his hand. “I’m sure we’ll see a lot of each other.”

      “Why?” He looked down at Dom, “Is he okay?”

      Open mouth, insert foot. “No, I mean, yes, he’s fine. I just meant since River Vista is so small…” She shook her head and changed the conversation. “Before you go, I don’t recognize this plant. What are you growing?”

      He paused before he got into the cab of his truck. River Vista Vet Clinic had been stenciled on the side of the door, but the paint had faded over the years. She wondered how long Kirk had been the local vet. “Soybeans. According to the grange guys, I’m growing the new cash crop of southern Idaho. You be careful now, you hear?”

      “Soybeans,” she said aloud as they continued their walk. She smiled at the vet’s warning to be careful. Hadn’t she just said the same thing to Felicia? Pot, meet kettle. The little town of River Vista had changed a lot since she’d been gone. And not all for the better, apparently. Dom, oblivious to any danger, sniffed at a gopher hole he’d found by the side of the road.

      She wondered as the truck disappeared over the hill if her new friend knew either the farmers’ market guy or the cheese guy. She should have asked. Everyone seemed to know everything around here, even where she bought her dog.

      They finished their walk and as Angie got the kitchen cleaned up before bed, she touched Nona’s basil plant, growing in a colorful pot on the kitchen windowsill. Being in River Vista felt right. The house felt right. Now, all she had to do was convince the rest of the town that she and her restaurant deserved to be here.

      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


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