LITMIR.BIZ

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band down at the bar last night. I love that I can just walk home when I stay out too late.”

      “You really should be careful. Bad things can happen here, just like they do in the big city.” Angie snuck a look at her friend. Man, she sounded like an old lady. Or maybe like Kirk, the vet. And from the look on Felicia’s face, she was taking the unsolicited advice just as well as Angie had from Kirk.

      “I’m a big girl. If I want to be griped at, I’ll call my mother.” Felicia slumped in her chair. “What has your goat today? Did Ian really tick you off that bad?”

      The car was quiet for a while, then Angie blew out a breath. “I don’t know if it’s Mr. Moss’s death, or just being home. Maybe a combination of everything. He was so sweet, and he knew Nona. I wish I’d known him when I lived here as a kid. But I was too busy doing kid stuff. If she’d offered to take me out there, I probably would have begged off to read or go to the town pool.”

      “Kids think everything’s going to be the same forever. They don’t have the ability to think past the next swim party.” Felicia leaned forward. “Speaking of swimming, did you know they float in rafts and on inner tubes down Indian Creek? There’s a park where people leave their vehicles, then they float downstream to another spot where someone drives them back. I was talking about floating the Boise River soon and Tank told me about the creek just outside town.”

      Angie smiled at the memories that came flooding in. She’d been a teenager the last time she floated the creek. Who had she been dating then? She couldn’t remember his name but he was tall, dark, handsome, and the captain of the football team. The summer romance hadn’t lasted past fall when she’d gone off to college, but he’d been fun.

      “By the look on your face, you did know about the creek. You have to tell me the story behind that blush.” Felicia crossed her leg under her and turned toward Angie, leaning back against the door.

      “Just memories.” Angie ignored the plea in her friend’s voice and turned up the radio station. She hadn’t had a country station set on her vehicle for years. Now that she’d returned home, she found the station she used to listen to was still going strong. “Tell me about the hiring. Any hiccups?”

      “I’m still looking for your sous chef, but the college says they might have someone locally who would be interested. I guess they graduated a few years ago but haven’t worked in the field.” Felicia pulled out her phone. “Good news is I’m fully staffed for front of the house. We have our first training next week. I was hoping you’d come.”

      “That would be perfect. We could do a trial run on a few of the menu items the same day if you can get my kitchen staff in for a few hours before and we’ll do a family meal together.” Angie started humming along with the song playing on the radio. Everything was going to work out. She could feel it.

      “So what was the old guy like? I’ve heard stories he could be mean.” Felicia put her phone away after making a few notes on her calendar. “All fire and brimstone?”

      “He was a little brusque at first. Dom liked him and you know he’s a good judge of character.” Angie thought about Dom stuck in the kitchen. Maybe they should run home first and let him out for a minute. She glanced at her watch. They had an appointment with the winery owners at two and if she made the detour, not only would they be late, they might miss the lunch serving. She sent positive thoughts to her dog and hoped he was sleeping rather than using her kitchen table leg as a chew toy.

      “Dom is still a puppy. He hasn’t had a chance to meet any truly evil people. Maybe he just likes everyone?” Felicia narrowed her eyes. “Where is he by the way? Did you get that fence installed and I didn’t notice?”

      “The crew’s coming tomorrow but I decided to leave him in the kitchen. I put everything away.” Including the clean jars she’d gotten ready for the failed strawberry jam that morning. “The doors are shut tight to the rest of the house.”

      “You like to live dangerously.” Felicia grinned. “Anyway, I heard Mr. Moss killed a girl when they were young.”

      “Mrs. Potter’s sister.”

      Felicia sat straight in her seat. “What? You’re kidding, right?”

      Angie told her what she’d heard from Mrs. Potter. “I’m sure it was just sour grapes. I mean, the Sheriff didn’t say anything about Mr. Moss being a murderer. And besides, if he was, he’d be in jail, not running a goat farm.”

      “Maybe they isolated him because they couldn’t prove it but he was shunned from all human contact.” Felicia sat up straighter in her seat and Angie could see the wheels turning as she concocted a story.

      “You read too much fiction. Especially stories about wounded heroes.” Angie tapped the steering wheel with her fingers, thinking about how she might find out. “Maybe we should go visit the library and see if they have the old newspaper articles on file. If she was murdered, it should have made the paper.”

      “If she stubbed her toe on the sidewalk it would have made this paper. Have you read it yet? I can’t believe the things they call news around here.” Felicia grinned. “In California there would be too many murders to do an article about each one. Here, they do articles on the local festivals and new businesses opening in town. And by the way, a reporter named Doris will be calling you tomorrow. I pushed her off a day since we were so busy today.”

      “Why didn’t you handle it? You’re part owner too.” Angie grumbled, her good mood disappearing as fast as it came. Burning the jam this morning had started off a run of bad luck. She needed to get home and try again so at least the day would end on a positive note.

      “She wanted to interview the successful chef coming home.” Felicia shrugged. “I thought it was a good angle. Oh, there’s the winery. Isn’t this location lovely?”

      It definitely was lovely. The winery sat on the ridge of the canyon. The road they were on would wind its way down to the riverbank and cross the new bridge that had been constructed a few years ago. The old bridge had been turned into a walkway for bicyclists and pedestrians to get to the trails on the other side of the river.

      The winery hadn’t been here when she left. Or if it had, she hadn’t thought about it as a place to go. Of course, she’d still been too young to drink when she went off to college. A fact that didn’t seem to stop her from drinking too much, especially her freshman year. She’d straightened up during her first culinary class during sophomore year. When she’d found her calling.

      She found a parking spot near the door. The lunch crowd had already left which would make it easier to talk business with the owners. Walking into the building, she was reminded of the Napa Valley wineries she’d visited the summer before they’d left California. Same lovely flowers planted in large half barrels. But here, a row of white rockers sat on the porch. “Kind of looks like Cracker Barrel, doesn’t it?”

      Felicia shot her a ‘be quiet’ look and pulled open the door. They entered the winery and walked toward the hostess table that doubled as a cashier station for the wine that was displayed throughout the room. Little signs on tables suggested food pairings to go along with the wines. Angie picked one up. “This is a great idea. We should think about a suggested wine or drink pairing with the entrees.”

      “Do we hire a sommelier? Or a sous chef? Because we can’t afford both.” Felicia nodded to the hostess stand. “Let’s get a table. I’m starving.”

      The hostess led them to a small table covered with a white linen tablecloth. Empty wine glasses sparkled in the sunlight. The woman set up a small chalk board. “These are our lunch options. The soup and salad are always popular as is the grilled salmon sandwich. Take your time, Connie will be with you in a few minutes.”

      “I guess this saves money printing up menus.” Angie picked up the menu board. “But you’d have to come in early every day and write out the different selections.”

      “Maybe that would be the sommelier’s job. He would need something to occupy

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