Like in the bakery, locals and visitors in downtown Appleseed Creek for the morning’s parade crowded the small cheese shop. Three women worked at the deli counter cutting Swiss, Muenster, Colby, and other cheeses to their customers’ specifications.
Long, open-air refrigerator cases lined the two walls and another case ran down the middle of the room. What looked like Astroturf surrounded large hunks of cheese and their handwritten name cards. A white container of toothpicks sat beside each card with quarter-inch cubes of free cheese samples.
A line wrapped around the store as visitors wanted to taste every cheese. Debbie was halfway up the first chill counter, refilling the containers of samples. I stepped into line. Two middle school boys were in front of me in droopy jeans and coats three times too large for them. They whispered together as they skewered cheese. “You ask her,” one snickered.
“No way? You ask,” the friend whispered back.
We inched forward. The boys stuffed their mouths with cheese. Finally, they were right next to Debbie. They jostled each other. The larger of the two asked, “Hey, do you have an outhouse?”
Debbie blinked at them.
His friend laughed. “She can’t answer you because she doesn’t speak English.”
The larger kid asked more slowly, “Do. You. Have. An. Outhouse?”
Debbie concentrated on her work of refilling the cheese tubs.
I stepped between the boys and Debbie, and arched an eyebrow at them. “Do you have a belt?”
The kid straightened his shoulders. “I wasn’t talking to you, Red.”
I’d met a mini-Brock. I gave them my best responsible adult glare. “I know you weren’t talking to me, and she wasn’t talking to you either. Why don’t you pull up your pants and get out of here.”
Mini-Brock, who was almost as tall as me, got in my face. “Are you gonna make me?”
“No, but that guy will.” I pointed to a large Amish man who had just stepped into the store with a milk delivery.
The smaller of the two pulled on his friend’s sleeve. “This is lame. Let’s go.”
“Yeah. We weren’t going to buy anything anyway.”
Like that’s a surprise.
“Are you okay?” I asked Debbie when mini-Curt and Brock were out the door. The milk delivery man left the store not knowing the role he’d played.
“I’m sorry. Usually kids like that don’t bother me.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
She shook her head. “Not every day.” Her wide-set brown eyes brimmed with tears. “Today, I’m afraid of my own shadow.”
“After what has happened to you, I can see why.”
She began refilling the peppercorn cheese.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No. I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat. “Can I help you make a selection?”
“Of cheese?”
“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? That’s what we sell.”
“I know that. I’d like to talk to you about—”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’ve already told you everything I know.”
A woman elbowed between us. “Sue! Sue!” she cried to a friend. “They have peppercorn. Isn’t that your husband’s favorite?” She stuck her toothpick into the largest piece. “Oh my, it melts in your mouth, but there’s a kick.” She stepped out of line and joined her friend at the deli counter.
“What kind of cheese do you want?” Debbie asked.
How could I possibly take more food into the house with Thanksgiving already overloading our kitchen? “Did Abby say anything about her uncle?”
Debbie moved to the next cheese container. Onion cheese. “You will have to ask her.”
I plan to.
“I can’t talk to you about this. Leah said not to talk to you.” She replaced the lid on the onion cheese container.
“Do you do everything Leah says?”
She glared at me through watery eyes. “Do you plan to buy something? Now, what kind of cheese would you like?”
I sighed. “Cheddar.”
She stepped away from the counter. “Follow me.” I wove around guests to the end of the opposing counter where she gestured to its contents. “We have fourteen kinds.” Then she walked away.
In the end, I bought a half pound of yellow cheddar. I knew Becky could use it for something.