The Benedict Special

The goat was wearing a bow tie.

An actual black bow tie. It was slightly crooked, fastened beneath a beard that made him look both wise and unserious at the same time.

Miranda Caldwell stopped in the middle of Red Willow farmers market, one heel still raised like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“No,” she said out loud.

The goat blinked at her, slow and calm, and then went right back to chewing like nothing in this situation required his attention.

“Sir, you are…overdressed.”

“Names Benedict,” a deep voice said behind her. “And he dresses better than most people.”

Miranda turned, already prepared to argue, and found herself looking up at a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in a flannel shirt that seemed to be made for him, faded jeans, boots, and a well-worn Stetson hat on his head.

And he was looking at her like she was the unusual one, not the goat standing there wearing a bow tie at a small-town event.

“Your goat,” she said slowly. “Is…wearing formalwear.”

He looked at Benedict, who just stood there chewing.

“Market’s competitive,” he said with a shrug. “We dress up.”

Miranda opened her mouth and then closed it again, not really sure what to say to that, and then glanced at his table.

“You are selling goat cheese.”

“And he helps.”

Benedict gave a small bleat, as if to confirm his role in the business.

“My name's Cord McAllister,” he said, sticking his hand out towards her.

She took it and noticed it was warm and rough with calluses. A few small scars were on his knuckles. A hand that worked hard for a living.

“Miranda Caldwell,” she replied.

She drew in a slow breath.

“Well, fine, ok, I need to get back to my table.”

Miranda turned and walked back across the market square to her table, which had a sign that read.

Miranda Caldwell, Events & Confections –Elevated Experiences, One Bite At A Time.

Across from her, Cord’s sign said.

Goat Cheese.

That was it.

No extra words. No decoration. Not even a picture of a goat.

Maranda narrowed her eyes slightly.

She had a feeling this man was going to be a problem.

___

By 10 am, she was right about that.

People were crowding his table, laughing and talking, taking pictures of Benedict. They were also buying goat cheese as if it were something rare, instead of something made by a goat.

Meanwhile, Miranda was standing behind her table, jaw clenched, holding out samples towards anyone who walked by.

“Would you like to try a Maple-Roasted Squash tart with Chevre?” She asked a couple walking by. Her voice was high-pitched and practiced.

They glanced over at Benedict, who was standing there looking handsome and charming in his bow tie.

“Does the goat come with it?” They asked.

“No, sorry.”

They walked away over to Cord’s table.

Miranda watched them for a second and then looked at Cord. His eyes met hers.

And then he gave a slight smile, knowing exactly what was happening.

Miranda glared at him and walked from around her table and across the square to his.

“We need to talk.”

Cord put one hand in his pocket.

“About what?”

She frowned.

“Your unfair advantage.”

“The goat?”

“Yes, the goat.”

Gesturing to Benedict, who was being admired and petted by customers.

“He’s…charming.”

Cord nodded. “He is.”

“You can’t just use a goat like this.”

“He likes it.”

Benedict let out a bleat in that same moment as if he agreed.

Miranda closed her eyes for just a minute before opening them again.

“I am an event planner. I create experiences and events that people remember, and right now your goat is doing a better job than I am.”

Cord looked at her without saying anything for a moment. Miranda felt the heat going through her at his steady gaze.

“You can borrow him.” He finally said.

Miranda blinked. “What?”

“For your table,” He said. “To draw people in.”

Why would you do that?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You look like you are about ready to fight him.” He gave a slight grin.

“I was considering it.”

“He’d win.”

Miranda looked over at Benedict, who had even more admirers around him.

“He probably would.”

She let out a breath and nodded.

“Thank you.”

----

Ten minutes later, Benedict was standing next to Miranda’s table as if he had always been there. People started gathering around her table at once. They petted the goat and tried samples of pastries.

“I can’t believe this works,” She said almost to herself.

“Told you,” Cord replied, leaning up against the side of her table with his arms crossed.

“You're very calm about your goat leaving you.” She eyed him as she passed out another sample.

“He goes where the snacks are,” Cord shrugged.

Benedict proved him right when he reached over and grabbed a napkin from the table and started to chew.

Miranda pulled it from his mouth. “No. That’s not food.”

Cord let out a sound that could have been a laugh.

Miranda noticed it and put it away for something she would definitely think about later, and picked up a tart.

“Here…try this.”

She handed it to him.

Cord hesitated for a brief second before taking it from her and taking a bite.

He stood there and chewed, and then when he swallowed, he didn’t say anything.

Miranda waited impatiently and wanted to know what he thought more than she should.

“Well?” She finally said.

“That’s good.”

“Just good?” She raised one brow.

“Very good.” He took another bite.

She allowed herself a small smile. “Thank you.”

For a brief moment, things went easily and comfortably between them. She continued to hand out samples and sold several tarts to people who came to check out Benedict.

Just when things settled down even more, Benedict decided to jump on the table right in the middle of the tarts.

Miranda’s breath caught. “No…”

His foot came down right in the middle of the whipped Chevre cheese.

----

There was a brief moment of silence.

Then a child laughed. Then everyone around them started laughing when Benedict walked across the table, leaving small hoof prints of whipped chevre behind him.

Miranda and Cord just stared at him. Benedict stood there proudly.

“Is this part of your events?” A woman said while still laughing.

Miranda opened and then closed her mouth, and then looked at Cord.

He looked back at her.

And then—

Miranda started laughing. A full-on laugh, not just a small chuckle. She had to lean over to catch her breath.

Cord laughed too, quieter but just as real.

Benedict bleated as if he were proud of himself.

Miranda wiped her eyes, still trying to compose herself. “Your goat just ruined my whole setup.”

Cord nodded. “He is very good at that.”

She looked at the mess in front of her and the crowd, still smiling at the goat on her table. Benedict was now chewing on her sign, not paying attention to the crowd or them.

She then stepped forward and clapped her hands.

“Alright, everyone!! New item on the menu!”

She picked up a smashed tart and dapped some Chevre from a pile on the table, both now not able to be eaten.

“The Benedict Special. A little messy but still tastes amazing!”

The crowd's reaction was immediate.

They started laughing and cheering, taking out their phones to take a picture of Benedict on the table.

Cord watched her, a different expression on his face now, almost like respect.

“You just turned that into something good.”

Miranda grinned, bright and certain. “I am an event planner, that’s what I do.”

He studied her longer than necessary.

“You're good at it.”

She looked back at him with a steady gaze.

“And you have a very useful goat.”

Right on cue, Benedict sneezed chevre on them.

They didn’t even try to stop laughing.