Who Moved My Goat Cheese?

by Lynn Cahoon

  “Do you want more?” Angie reached for the glass.

  She nodded. “I guess I should have hydrated before I left the house. I just wanted to tell you that man was back again today.”

  A chill went down Angie’s back. “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “I did. But I don’t understand why he’s showing up here. Especially since he always seems to come right after you drive off. If I didn’t know better, I would say he was watching for you to leave.” She took the glass that Angie offered and took another slip. Then she sat it down on the table. “That boy has nothing but bad luck. It’s been that way all his life.”

  “Wait, you know who he is?” Angie relaxed a little. She didn’t have a stalker or a potential burglar, it was just a case of bad timing.

  “Of course I know him. Kirk Hanley has been my Bella’s vet for a while now.” Mrs. Potter pointed over toward where the soybean field sat. “He’s your neighbor on the west side. He must be wanting to talk to you about watering times. Soybeans take a lot of water. Or is that pinto beans?”

  While Mrs. Potter mused on the proper amount of moisture for growing the different types of beans favorited by local farmers, Angie thought about Dom’s last visit to Kirk’s clinic. “You’re probably right, it has to be about the field and the irrigation schedule. I’ll give him a call Monday when the clinic opens if he doesn’t show up tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Potter stood and adjusted her walker. “I better make my way back home before Erica notices I’m gone. She’ll go all Where’s Waldo trying to find me.”

  “I could drive you back.” Angie knew she’d get turned down flat, but the woman looked a little tired.

  “No need my dear. I was just a little thirsty when I came over. I’ll be fine on the way back. Besides, my doctor tells me I need more exercise. A walk isn’t going to kill me.”

  As she walked out of the house, Angie followed her out to the porch and watched as she made her way back home. She wasn’t sure Mrs. Potter was correct. But she wouldn’t --no, make that couldn’t-- tell her what to do either. Dom leaned on her leg and she reached down and rubbed one ear. “I know buddy. She’s getting old.”

  Instead of going up to the attic after supper, Angie snuggled into the couch and read the mystery novel she’d been trying to finish for a few days. She couldn’t think about Nona, not today. If she did, she might start crying and never stop.

  * * * *

  Sunday morning, she made herself waffles, bacon, and scrambled eggs. Dom sat watching her and drooling. She told him her schedule for the day as she cooked. “First thing we’ll do chores, then I need to weed the garden and see if there’s anything to harvest, then I’ll cut up a chicken and make some soup and put part of it away for dinner.” She nodded, thinking about her next menu for The County Seat. Maybe a pan-fried chicken over a bed of fried green tomatoes? It could work, depending on the spices and herbs she used. Excited to create new recipes, she sat down to breakfast, looking forward to her second cooking session of the day.

  Everything came together quickly and she boxed up a sample plate for Felicia as well as a quart of the soup. Even though her friend had attended culinary school too, Felicia didn’t love cooking and hated creating. Give her a recipe, and she could cook anything. Tell her to create something new and she froze.

  She put the basket into the back, loaded up Dom, and headed into town. Hopefully this meeting with Estebe would go quickly and easily. She turned on the music as she tried to drown out her fears. Opening night was five days away and she needed the guy. She’d just think positive and not worry about why he wanted to talk. Or just not think at all.

  He was already in the kitchen when she arrived. She sat her basket on the counter and sent Dom to his bed in the corner of the kitchen. Then she unpacked the food and put it in the refrigerator. She’d tell Felicia it was there after she dealt with whatever this was. “Good afternoon.”

  “You shouldn’t let animals in the kitchen. The health department will sanction us for having him in here.”

  How do you really feel? She shook her head. She wanted her staff to be able to say anything to her, even if it was incorrect. They all were entitled to an opinion. “Actually, he’ll have a bed in my office. I’ve talked to the health guy and as long as we’re not serving, Dom can be anywhere in the restaurant.”

  “The government says one thing and does another. You should be careful.” Estebe turned off the stove and plated whatever he’d been cooking. He handed her the finished plate. “The sauce is creamier with my recipe. We should change the process.”

  “Before opening night?” Angie shook her head. “Not happening, buddy. I’m more than willing to talk about this later, but we have a plan for opening night.”

  He nodded to the plate. His black eyes twinkled like he had a secret no one else knew. “Taste it. You’ll want to change as soon as you taste. I know this is true.”

  The man was persistent. And asking to change a recipe was a long way from the discussion she’d worried they were going to have. She leaned against the counter and took a bite of the pasta. The smell was warm and inviting as she brought the bite toward her. Maybe with a hint of heat, she tried to identify the changes he’d made. Then she took the bite. Flavor exploded in her mouth. The goat cheese was smooth and tangy. The pasta ala dente. And there was some sort of pepper. Not cayenne. She glanced at him. “Jalapeno?”

  He shook his head. “Hungarian wax pepper, minced. You like it, don’t you?”

  His enthusiasm made her smile. “I do. Why were you cooking the recipes?”

  Now, he shrugged, looking embarrassed. “When I left here on Wednesday, I felt like something was missing from the pasta dish. I started playing with it at home and came up with this yesterday.”

  “You’ve been cooking this same recipe since Wednesday?”

  He filled a second plate with the rest of the pasta and took both plates to the chef table. “I wanted it to be the best. Come sit and eat with me. I want to learn more about you. Where did you learn to cook?”

  The impromptu lunch went on for over an hour. Finally, Estebe pushed away from the table, picking up the empty plates. “I have to go cook for the family tonight. Thank you for considering my change to your recipe.”

  “No, thank you for the twist. I want this to be an open and creative kitchen. The only way that will happen is if we talk to each other.” She took the plate out of his hand. “Family rule, you cook, I clean.”

  A real smile curved his lips and not for the first time, Angie was struck by his looks. “It’s a good rule. One I will have to remember.”

  And his accent didn’t suck either. Angie headed to the dishwasher station. “See you bright and early on Friday. I’ll update the recipe book with your changes.”

  After he’d left and the dishes were washed and put away, Angie texted Felicia to see if she was in the apartment. When she responded that she’d be right down, Angie grabbed a soda out of the bar fridge and sat at one of the tables, looking out toward the veterinary clinic. There was no sign of life at the building across the street, but that didn’t mean Kirk wasn’t there. Maybe she’d go knock on his apartment door and ask why he’d been visiting her house for the last two days. Dom lifted his head as Felicia made her way down the stairs.

  “Hey guys, how long have you been here?” She grabbed her own drink and sat next to Angie. Then she looked at her watch. “Oh, yeah, the meeting with Estebe. Do I need to call the temp agency first thing in the morning?”

  “No, he’s not quitting. He just wanted to tweak the pasta recipe. And I have to admit, it’s better.”

  “Okay…” Felicia turned and stared out the window. “What are you looking at? Did I blink and miss the parade?”

  “No.” Angie shook her head. “I’m just remembering something Mrs. Potter said. I think Kirk has been showing up at my house when I’m gone. Don’t you th
ink that’s strange?”

  “Honestly, I think everything about that man is strange. I’m so glad I dodged that bullet. Once you let the crazies into your life, they’re hard to get rid of.” Felicia glanced out the window again. “Did I ever tell you about that guy Randy who stalked me for two weeks after I smiled at him in the grocery store?”

  “I remember him. He was one of our best customers for those two weeks. He ate at the restaurant three times in one day.” Angie turned back to her list. “If we’re done talking about your love life, are we ready for Friday? Anything you need me to do? Are the deliveries set?”

  “Yes, no, and yes.” Felicia shrugged. “We’re good. Stop worrying. This isn’t our first rodeo.” Felicia stood. “Do I have to get the menus reprinted because of this change?”

  Angie thought a moment. She hadn’t considered the menus. “No, I think we’ll just alert the servers that the dish is a little spicy. Not on the extreme level, just a little.”

  “I’ll put it in the notes I’ll go over with the servers this weekend.” Felicia nodded toward the upstairs. “I’m watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. Want to join me?”

  Angie stood and picked up her tote. “I better get back to the house. By the way, I have a test dinner in your section of the fridge and some soup if you get hungry.”

  “Perfect. I was going to go salami and crackers tonight. A real meal will be amazing.” She turned and headed up the stairs. Just before she disappeared from view, she paused. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little off.”

  “Just ready for this opening to be done and over with. I’m not sleeping well.” Which wasn’t a total lie. Angie had already brought her into her worries about Gerald Moss’s death. Now with the possible connection to Nona, it just seemed too overwhelming, even for her. It was all in the past and they needed to focus on the present and the future.

  Leaving the restaurant, she started toward the vet clinic to talk to Kirk. No need to wait until Monday. But as she started to cross the street, Kirk’s old pickup pulled out of the back-parking lot and wound its way through the small city park, a short cut to the road to Meridian. Or Boise. Or even Jackpot, although that would be a long drive to go and come back before tomorrow. One more thing she didn’t get to cross off on her list.

  * * * *

  The next morning, she made a quick list of must-get-dones. She wanted to spend some time in the restaurant’s kitchen before Friday. She planned on having ‘office hours’ for all the non-cooking tasks on Wednesday and Thursday, but she wanted one day just to cook and play. She marked up her planner for the next four weeks with the times she would be at the job. Checking the time, she called and made an 11 am appointment with Mark Foreman, claiming to be a new client. He didn’t need to know she didn’t want to expand The County Seat to a second location. At least not yet. But first, she’d stop at the local bank and pay a visit to her loan officer. Maybe she’d have some insight on why Gerald took out such a large sum in March. But did they have confidentiality issues, like lawyers? All she could do was ask.

  She tapped her pen on the page. She still hadn’t looked through Nona’s papers. She was avoiding it, she knew. Touching the things her grandmother touched, delving into what she thought, it would bring Nona back to life, if just for a minute. Then Angie would feel the pain again. But it had to be done.

  Angie put her pen down and, grabbing a to go cup of coffee and her phone, headed up to the attic to search. Knowing Nona’s box ‘filing’ system gave her an advantage this time. It shouldn’t take long to find what she was looking for—a box filled with papers she’d put in the attic after she’d moved back home. She also wanted to go through Nona’s own boxes, just in case.

  She quickly found the one she’d packed and with a pang of grief, sat the box near the attic stairs. Then she went to Nona’s stacks. It took two hours for her to go through everything. Mostly because an item would catch her eye, evoking a memory and she’d follow the trail. But finally, she had two more boxes of papers and journals stacked with the first one.

  She carried all three boxes down to the kitchen as Dom followed her out of the dusty attic. The dog hadn’t left her side, but had been extremely quiet during her search. Had he felt the emotional undercurrents? Or had he just been sleepy? She made another cup of coffee and started going through the papers. By the time she found Nona’s diary, she had an hour to get to Boise for her appointment with Mark Foreman. The good news was she would be able to throw away most of two boxes as they were old utility bills. She kept the bank statements to make sure she’d found all of Nona’s hiding holes. The woman liked to open a new account for every new goal or project. Sometimes, there was less than a hundred dollars in an account. A few months ago, she’d found one with a different bank near the shopping center in Meridian with several thousand dollars in it.

  As she drove past Mrs. Potter’s, she waved at Erica, who was pulling weeds out of the flower bed. She’d have to warn Erica to question her own grandmother about possible accounts, but Nona hadn’t had anyone here to watch her as she slowly lost her grasp on reality. There could be money stuck in the walls for all Angie knew. And besides, Mrs. Potter didn’t have even a little sign of dementia. The woman was as sharp as a tack. It was her body that was failing her.

  By the time she found street parking and coins for the meter, she only had a few minutes to dash into the large tower. She paused at the large marble reception desk. “Foreman Investments?”

  “And you are Miss Turner, correct?” The woman looked up from the computer screen that must have shown her appointment as well as her name. “Fourth floor, Suite 402. Go to elevator D.”

  Computers would take over the woman’s job in less than ten years, Angie mused as she headed toward the bank of elevators. You’d walk into somewhere like this, they’d do a palm print and retinal scan, and you’d be directed to the correct floor. Or you’d do the entire visit virtually, which was more likely.

  She stepped out of the elevator into a cream and oak hallway. A small sign directed her that suites 400 and 401 were on her left and 402 and 403 on her right. The padding on the carpet was thick and her sandals sank with each step. She was glad she hadn’t worn heels, that would have made the walk dangerous.

  She opened the doors into 402 and found another smiling woman waiting for her. “Miss Turner, come this way. Mark’s waiting for you. May I get you some bottled water, soda, or a coffee?”

  “A Coke would be great if you have one.” She could use the sugar since she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She’d find something on her way back to town before she visited the bank and tried to find Kirk Hanley. She knew she got grumpy when her blood sugar was low, and she didn’t want to snap at someone when she was trying to sweet talk information.

  “Not a problem, I’ll bring it right in.” The woman held the door to an office open and motioned her inside. “Mark, Ms. Turner is here.”

  The man who turned around looked better than his photo Angie had found on the company website. Tall, dark, with a touch of silver at his temples. He wore a suit that looked like it cost more than Angie spent on clothes during an entire year. He stepped toward her, his hand outstretched. “Miss Turner. So nice to meet you. I’ve heard good things about your new restaurant, are you already thinking of expanding?”

  “Actually, no, since we haven’t opened yet.” Angie shook his hand. She tried to size the guy up as she sat. How would he take her direct manner of questions? Just because he was in an amazing suit didn’t mean he wasn’t a killer. Finally, she decided that playing a little dumb about everything might be the way to go with this guy. “I’m afraid I have some strange questions I need to ask you.”

  He laughed. “Strange seems to be my niche. Come on in and take a chair.” He nodded to the receptionist as she brought two glasses, Angie’s can of Coke, and a Dr. Pepper. “Sit, let’s drink and talk. You have my curiosity piqued.”


  And that was what she’d been hoping for. Angie eased onto the orange leather visitor chair. “I’m in the same situation. I’m curious about a few things.”

  He poured her soda over the ice and handed it to her. Then he poured his own drink and settled into a chair next to her, rather than on the other side of his desk. “Now that we’re comfortable, tell me what you need.”

  “There’s a farm on the canyon’s edge in River Vista. I’ve heard that you were courting the owner to agree to a possible sale.” She sipped her soda and watched him for a reaction. There was nothing, except a mild confusion.

  He paused before he spoke. “You’re right, I was interested in the property. The Moss dairy farm, correct? It would be an amazing place for an exclusive subdivision for maybe ten houses, but I didn’t have to do any courting. The guy came me to and practically begged me to sell the land for him.”

  CHAPTER 21

  “He initiated the sale discussion?” For the first time, Angie was truly surprised. It didn’t seem like Old Man Moss was even considering selling that Sunday morning when they’d had coffee and breakfast together watching the morning arrive at the canyon’s edge. “Gerald Moss called you?”

  Mark sipped his soda, obviously thinking about his answer. “No, it wasn’t the actual owner—Gerald Moss, right? He had an intermediary reach out. A relative, if I remember right.”

  “I’m not sure Mr. Moss had any relatives.” The man seemed nice and up front, but maybe he was playing with her. Or he might be mixing up the property with someone else. Before she jumped to conclusions, she wanted to make sure they were talking about the right property. “This is the farm right on the canyon edge?”

  “Yes, I know what property you’re talking about.” He snapped a little impatiently at her. “My memory for land is much better than my memory for people. Hold on a minute, let me check.”

  As she drank more of her soda, Mark stood and hit a few keys on his computer. She didn’t respond to his comment, giving him the silence he’d requested.