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And of course something chocolate. And something with frosting. And if it sounds like I’m bribing Sage with treats, that’s because I will use any and all available inducements to keep her happy here once she arrives.
So today I have to go to town and go cheese shopping.
I wasn’t sure about a cheese plate, but Lana assures me that everyone loves cheese as much as our family does. Cheese was always a centerpiece of our mom’s big-occasion entertainment. Special serving trays. Special knives. Pairings. All of it.
I don’t want to overthink this or make it into a bigger deal than it needs to be, so I head to the grocery store in town.
I pull into the parking lot with visions of a perfect movie night and by the time I’ve walked the dairy aisle, I’m walking slumped over and feeling pretty depressed.
This is the most pathetic array of cheeses in the world. Everything looks a little limp. And by “everything,” I mean not very many options.
I stand staring at the selection, wondering if I can get something ordered and delivered in eight hours. How have I never noticed this staggering lack before? Oh, maybe because I’ve never tried to impress a woman with fancy cheese.
“This cheese selection is embarrassing.”
I only realize I’ve said it aloud when a guy standing nearby agrees with me. “They usually have a decent local cheddar, but there’s nothing good here today. Guess I have to go to the dairy.”
I look above our heads where the word “dairy” hangs in large plastic letters. He sees me.
With a shake of his head, he says, “No, Gilroy’s Dairy. On route sixteen.” He points vaguely west, and I must look confused. He clarifies. “This is Vermont. You can’t exactly avoid dairy snobs around here. Gilroy’s is the best for cheese. If you’re looking for ice cream, you want BethAnn’s.”
“Specialty dairies?” I ask, unaware this was a thing. Did my mom get her cheese from a farmer? Or was this a Vermont thing?
I pull out my phone and look up Gilroy’s. They have tours.
I text Sage.‘Are you working? Because there’s a very important opportunity to walk through a local dairy. And get samples.’
She texts back.‘Work at 4:00. But walk through a dairy? Like, cows?’
‘Did you see the part about samples? OF CHEESE?’
‘Should I mark this moment? Will today go down in history as when I learn the key to your heart is cheese?’
If she only knew. Cheese is optional. My heart is hers. But it might be a little early to tell her that.
‘Yes. Cheese = love. Forever.’
‘I’m definitely not going to be the person who stands between you and true love. I’m in.’
She’s in.
Awesome. I kind of wish I was a person who could do a backflip. It seems like an appropriate moment for something like that. But I can’t, so I satisfy myself with goofy smiles. Sometimes it’s all I’ve got.
Next, I call Kimberly. “I’m about to have an emergency. Can you come up to campus? Hang out and be on call at the clinic for the next two hours?”
“You plan your emergencies now?” she asks.
I probably don’t have to tell her anything. But of course, I will. Just not with full detail this morning. “I failed at having a date last night. I don’t want to fail again today.”
“You know I’d hate to see you fail.”
“That’s a yes, right?”
“Of course, Dr. Mercer,” she says. I can hear her smile.
“Thanks. I really appreciate you,” I say.
“You bet. Have fun.”
