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.
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
