Last week, I gave you the first half of Chapter One from Murder At The Summer Cheese Festival.

You met Laura on her busiest morning yet at the Silver Springs General Store café. You met her colleagues: Eli with his succulents, Jesse with their chalkboard art and Jasmine with her bright smile.

And you heard about Jeremy Blackwood. The food critic who seems determined to stir up trouble. Whose name makes Laura’s stomach twist because she’s seen what overzealous critics can do to a place.

But here’s what you haven’t read yet: when Laura remembers that phone call with her mother before the move. The one where her mom asked if it was just a midlife crisis.

The second half of Chapter One is ready!

It’s where you’ll understand why Laura needs Silver Springs as much as it needs her, even though she doesn’t know it yet…

Read it below. Hope you enjoy it, and I'd love to know your thoughts!

Cheers Jodie

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Murder At The Summer Cheese Festival: Ch 1, Part 2

Jasmine sidled up beside her at the sink, grabbing a stack of washed-and-dried plates ready to put away. “You’ve got some kind of magic. Dakota comes in every Tuesday with her mom. I’ve never seen her warm up to someone so quickly!”

“If I can make someone’s day even a little better…I will,” Laura said.

As she went about her work, Laura reflected on her last few days. At first glance, the General Store was just a shop…though she was beginning to see it as a community hub.

The main retail space sprawled across the first floor of the town’s oldest mercantile shop, operating for a hundred and forty years, according to the weathered plaque. Exposed brick walls and timber beams spoke of craftsmanship from another era, while tall windows flooded the space with natural light.

The café occupied the front quarter, with mismatched wooden tables and chairs overlooking the Village Green. An antique counter served as the café’s ordering station, its glass display cases filled with Layla’s baked goods. The retail portion had a curated collection of local products, artisanal foods, handcrafted items, and essentials. Reclaimed barn wood tables held things like corn, heirloom tomatoes, summer squash, honey, and handmade soaps. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls.

A carved wooden staircase led to the upper level, where Maggie’s office was located alongside the staff break room and storage.

Behind the main building lay the courtyard, the carriage house where the co-owners, Maggie and her wife lived, and the old stables—used for storage and events. The third outbuilding was the old root cellar that’d been converted into the General Store’s produce storage space.

Mosaic-tiled planter boxes lined the stone path connecting the buildings. The containers overflowed with blooms—black-eyed Susans, purple coneflowers, and daylilies, while the herb garden burst with fragrant basil, thyme, and lemon balm.

This place had stories to tell. Maybe Laura’s would be one of them.

The café bustled with locals and visitors. It was the height of Vermont’s summer tourist season, cars with license plates from Massachusetts, New York, and beyond, filling the Main Street parking spaces.

The work wouldn’t be easy, but she was here for the long haul. For now, that was enough.

***

Thomas Whitman, the Summer Cheese Festival head judge, entered the café, his proper posture a quiet display of his trademark attention to detail. His tanned skin spoke of his earliest years spent outdoors at Whitman Family Creamery. The last time he visited, he’d mentioned his toast was ‘a touch overdone’ but had complimented the excellent coffee. His eyes scanned the room with careful deliberation.

Someone was sitting at his usual table He might’ve been disappointed, but Thomas smiled as he surveyed the busy café.

Laura nudged Jesse. “Would you mind finishing this one for me, please?” she asked, pointing at the latte in progress.

Jesse nodded.

Laura slipped around the counter and approached Thomas. “Good morning, Thomas! So glad you stopped by. We’ve had quite the morning rush.”

“Laura, great to see you,” he said. “Busy morning indeed. Always good to see the local businesses thriving.”

Laura nodded. “It’s lovely seeing so much excitement around the festival. I’m glad I’m not the only one looking forward to it. Your usual table’s taken. Would you like me to find you another that’s just as nice?”

Thomas’ eyes crinkled at the corners. “Change keeps the mind fresh, doesn’t it? Though I admit to being a creature of habit.” He glanced around the café. “Perhaps that corner table? The lighting is excellent for reading the morning paper.”

“Perfect choice,” Laura said, leading him to the spot he’d shown.

As he settled in, Thomas arranged his napkin on his lap. “The usual breakfast would be wonderful, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Let me take care of that for you,” Laura said before returning to the counter. “Jesse, would you mind putting in Thomas’ regular order?”

Jesse flashed a quick thumbs up and glanced over at Thomas’ table. “Thirty years in the artisanal food world and he still says please and thank you. Incredible.”

“He’s such a gentleman,” Jasmine said as she collected a waiting meal from the kitchen window. “And a sharp mind, too, but you’d expect that from someone with so much experience. The town revolves around his opinion for those three days of the festival.”

Laura checked the cold drinks stock. “I just hope my hospitality skills pass muster. I’d hate to be the reason for a festival scandal in my first month here.”

Jasmine huffed a laugh. “Trust me, if Thomas has a problem with something, you’ll know about it. But he’ll tell you in the most courteous way possible.”

Laura ferried orders and attended to customers. The café buzzed with energy around Thomas, and he nodded to familiar faces and exchanged a few pleasant words with an older couple at the next table.

When he finished, he approached the counter. “Everything was delicious, as always,” he told Laura. “Please give my compliments to Anton.”

“Of course! I’ll make sure he hears that. Have a wonderful day, Thomas.”

***

The older woman was tiny but determined, her warm golden-brown features alight with her usual cheer, weaving through the crowded café toward the counter.

“Good morning, Evelyn!” Laura said. “What brings you in today?”

“Seeing how my new tenant is managing!” Evelyn Chan replied with a twinkle. “And sampling a scone.”

“Perfect timing,” Laura said, stepping out from behind the bench and guiding Evelyn toward a table, pulling out a chair. “There’s one with your name on it.”

After Laura took Evelyn’s order, the older woman asked, “How are you? And don’t fib.”

“I expected slower days, but honestly? It’s been a good kind of busy,” Laura said.

“Sounds like you brought the chaos with you,” Evelyn joked.

I hope not,” Laura said. “My mom’s already bracing for the ‘I’m done’ phone call.”

“You’re not going to, are you?” Evelyn said. It wasn’t a question. “You’re stronger than you think.” Her eyes brightened. “Say! If you’re free next Monday, which you will be because it’s your day off, come to the Maplewood Crafters Club meeting. Silvia never missed it during her summer visits.”

Laura smiled. “Gran always said the potluck nights were her favorites.”

“You’ve got great timing, because it’s the next one!” Evelyn said. “The other weeks are more casual. You’re not obligated to bring food on those nights, though nobody complains if you do. Shall you come?”

Laura knew her landlady wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Laura said.

Evelyn beamed.

***

Later, as Laura worked, foreboding settled over her. Again. After her third day on the job, Maggie had sat her down in the break room during a lull, fidgeting with a pencil.

“A bit of unpleasant news,” she’d said, avoiding Laura’s eyes. “Jeremy Blackwood’s on the roster for the next festival committee meeting.”

When Laura showed no recognition, Maggie explained—Jeremy was a food critic from Boston and a long-time festival committee member and assistant judge. Maggie’s voice tightened when she mentioned his name.

“He said he’s reviewing the store while he’s in town,” Maggie had added. “For the second time around. The last one eight years ago nearly finished us.”

The knot in Laura’s stomach tightened at the thought of tomorrow’s meeting. At Hargroves—her previous hospitality job—one harsh review had cleared their reservation book for weeks—proof of how swiftly a critic could sink a reputation. She’d seen it happen firsthand during her fifteen years of building her career at one of Boston’s most prestigious restaurants. All those fourteen-hour days, covering shifts, working overtime—all leading to that promised promotion to General Manager that’d vanished with the sudden sale of the business.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Danny. “Hey sis! How’s the new job going? Bet you’re killing it!”

Despite her anxiety, Laura smiled. Trust Danny to check in right when she needed it. She typed back: “It’s going surprisingly well. You’d love it here.”

Another message from Danny. “Great! We’ll have to visit sometime! But seriously, you okay?”

Laura stared at the message, and rubbed her temples, remembering the phone call with her mother right before she’d moved. The conversation still stung with the precision only Bridget Evans could achieve.

“What if they don’t appreciate you there?” she’d asked. “What if you don’t fit in? And...a midlife crisis at almost thirty-eight? Really, Laura?”

The inevitable comparisons to her brothers had followed—Danny, the program director in New York, raising his son effortlessly despite his divorce, and Connor with his perfect California tech family.

And Laura. Falling short by being herself.

Still…underneath it all…Laura heard a loneliness her mother tried to hide.

She breathed in and out. The afternoon lull had settled in, bringing its own peaceful rhythm: chairs scooting back, low conversations, the espresso machine hissing. Customers lingered with a tranquility unlike anything she’d known in Boston, like there was no rush to get anywhere else. This was the breathing space she’d hoped to find in Silver Springs.

At least her Gran had supported the move—it had been her idea, after all.

Laura smiled as she remembered the wonderful surprise she’d found when she first arrived, all of two weeks ago. She had to hold onto that feeling.

The Summer Cheese Festival preparations loomed, and Jeremy Blackwood’s name still sounded intimidating. But Laura wasn’t without experience in handling difficult critics. They appreciated attention to detail and consistency. The General Store café could provide both.

Whatever happened, she wouldn’t let Maggie down—not when she’d given Laura this chance. She’d come to Silver Springs seeking a new start, and facing challenges head-on was part of that beginning.

She would prove her mother wrong.

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