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
