He's Got Her Goat
Christine Thackeray
Epiphany Productions
Forest Grove, Oregon
Acknowledgements
S
pecial thanks to my sweet husband who has put up with undone dishes and late nights for far too long.
To Liz Adair and Tanya Mills, who were with me in Kanab when I finished the last pages of the first draft in a blaze of writing glory.
To Heather Moore who gave it the first edit and believed in the story enough for me to carry forward.
And, to Mary and the real Paige who showed me the joy of goat milking up close. There is something so loveable about these creatures that this story grew from that joy.
Chapter One
T
WENTY MINUTES BEFORE THE GRAND OPENING
of the Vancouver Farmers’ Market, Paige Lindon emerged from her rusty hatchback, juggling six large boxes. She dashed past the florist, waved at the jewelry maker, cut through the Teriyaki stand and stopped cold in her tracks. Her booth, a white canopy with cheap aluminum display tables, looked to have been touched by Midas himself, only instead of gold, everything had turned to cedar.
In the center, her friend Joe stood with arms outstretched in a sleeveless tee and shorts, showing off his lean sinewy limbs. His shag cut had grown sun-streaked during the winter months, probably from skiing on Mt. Hood. He was alone. That should have been her first clue. “Hey, babe, what do you think?”
Being called ‘babe’ by him was as surprising as his latest construction project. A mixture of confusion and dread balled in her chest. “Nice? You must have been working on this for weeks.”
“Longer, actually.” He bobbed his head. “And it’s all for you.”
She couldn’t tell if he was referring to the updated booth or himself personally. She scanned the twelve by twelve space. In addition to
two planked display tables and a comfy-looking Adirondack chair, Joe had built an entire structure replete with exposed poles and a cedar shingle roof. Off to one corner, a small fountain that looked like an old pump poured water into a rustic wooden bucket. Wow.
She relaxed enough to let herself smile. “It’s beautiful, and you’re incredibly talented.”
“I know.” He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a little shake, not even noticing that he almost caused her to drop her boxes. Then he strutted over to the pump and worked the handle. “Get it? You sell soap, and this is water.” A robust stream of clear liquid rushed from the pump’s mouth, hitting the water below with enough force to create a small tsunami which splashed over the bucket’s sides. “Soap and water. Cool, huh?”
“Yeah. Cool.” She placed her load on one of the tables, impressed by the filled bucket. The closest water spigot was five booths down. With a gift this big, there had to be strings attached. She reached in the pocket of her coveralls to retrieve her wallet. Even though she didn’t have much, she’d learned the hard way not to become indebted to friends. Her new neighbor who had volunteered to milk her goats in the morning was already becoming a problem. “I’m so grateful. Really. But, I’d feel better if I could pay you for all this.”
His brief hug caught her off guard and with good cause. Joe’s girlfriend was as well known for her jealousy as for her parent’s philanthropy. “You can pay me with dinner tonight.”
“Will Julie be okay with that?” Paige had heard they were all but engaged.
“Most definitely.”
By the time she turned around, he had already begun walking toward the market entrance. In the far distance she could see a milling crowd waiting for the barriers to be lifted. She called to him, “Uh, aren’t you going the wrong way? Your booth’s over there.”
“No, I’m windsurfing on the Columbia with some friends.” He jogged back toward her. “You know what they say about all work and no play.”
“Yeah, that you’re going to miss the first day?”
“Nah, it’s all good.” He gave a crooked smile that exposed a single dimple. “I put my phone number on a big sign, so people can call if they’re interested in my stuff.”
Paige could think of so many problems with that plan that she couldn’t even count them, but given how much effort he’d gone to in outfitting her new stall, she chose to be supportive. “That’s one way of doing things.”
Out of the blue an idea seemed to hit him so hard it made him literally jump in the air. “Hey, you could do the same thing. Want to come with? I’ve got an old bikini and an extra wetsuit in the car.”
“I think I better stay here and actually sell something. Gotta pay the bills, you know?” By the look on his face, she knew he didn’t. Son of one of Portland’s elite, Joe had never wanted for anything in his life, and if the gossip around town was at all accurate, Julie’s family had enough money to keep it that way. “But, you have fun.”
He bent over, pecked her on the cheek and lingered before speaking in a practiced suave tone she’d never heard from him before. “I will when I get back.” Her eyes followed him until he was lost in the waiting crowd.
Stunned, Paige dumped the contents of her boxes on one of the cedar tables and started arranging hockey puck-sized disks wrapped in thick paper, making sure the little goat surrounded by purple flowers on each label faced the right direction. Maybe, for someone like Joe, a gift this big was nothing. She could feel the moisture on her cheek where he had planted the kiss and wiped it away.
A woman’s low voice buzzed in her ear. “Since when are you and Joe a thing?”
“Don’t be crazy.” Paige didn’t even have to turn around. “I think his girlfriend would disagree, Elaine.”
“They
were
the cutest couple ever, matching trust funds and all.” The middle-aged woman clucked her tongue. “But that’s been over for months. At the gym I heard her say that his ‘little obsession’ was too much for her. Funny. Must not have been his woodworking hobby she was referring to.” Elaine lowered her designer sunglasses and raised perfectly shaped eyebrows.
“Me? That’s ridiculous.” Paige sputtered. As long as she’d known him, Joe had some tall blonde in designer clothes under his arm. Most of them were her customers. In fact, that’s how they’d met. She wasn’t blonde or tall, the only designer name she knew was Levi, and she got those from the thrift store. “We’re friends. That’s it. You know he only dates rich girls.”
“Well, you could be one, too.” Elaine clasped her arm with a vice grip and stared into her eyes with an intensity that was new, even if she’d made the offer a dozen times. “Let me buy you out. Seven hundred thousand in your bank account by the end of business today, and that’s only for 51% of your existing formulas. It’s my last offer.” She gestured to the booths around them. “If you want to continue your foray among the little people, fine. We’ll write that into the contract. Come on, what do you say?”
Paige laughed and gently removed her hand. Elaine had known her late Uncle Bill as long as she could remember, only he seemed to endure her more than like her. She was beginning to see why. “Elaine, I’ve told you before, I’m not selling the formulas. I will sell you as much product as you want, although a large order may take a few weeks.”
“What do you think I am? Walmart?” She smoothed her short bleached hair while her harsh features seemed to grow more angular. “I’ve already got a license agreement in the works. Sign it, and we’ll both be rich.”
“If only it were that simple.” Paige knew it couldn’t happen yet. The secret, which she’d never shared, laid as much in the formula as in the milk only her goats could produce. As of now, there was a limited supply, so scaling nationally would be impossible. “Do you need anything else?”
Elaine sidled up next to her and pointed downward with French-tipped nails. “Just curious. How’d you get the back of your pants covered in mud?”
“What?” Paige pulled at the fabric trying to see how bad it was. “It must have happened in the back meadow this morning.”
“And why were you out in a meadow?”
“My new neighbor.” Paige could feel her forehead growing tight, and she had to clear her throat to continue. “She bought the emu farm next door and has been trying to help me out. Lately, she’s been more of a liability than a benefit. It’s like she doesn’t listen to a thing I say.”