Sticky Notes - A clean romance (Ethel King Series Book 1)

by Sherri Schoenborn Murray

  “Katherine’s grandma’s house . . . I though you said it’s on the corner of Hunter and Logan Street? A yellow bungalow with a large, umbrella-like pink tree overhanging the road.”

  “Yes, there’s a flowering pink tree. Right on the corner. Why?”

  “Did you actually see her come out of the house?”

  “Yes, Quinn. What are you getting at?”

  “You saw her come out of the yellow bungalow on the corner of Hunter and Logan? Out the front door? There’s a white picket fence in front, and a porch with a bush on each side with lavender-colored flowers.”

  “Yes, Quinn—they’re called rhododendrons. Twice now I’ve seen Katherine come out the front door, down the porch steps, out the little white picket gate, and to my car. Why?” She was doing a good job of narrating their conversation for Evans as well.

  “Ask him if she’s still alive. Or is he just dropping off the body?” Evans said in the background.

  “Quinn, why are you calling?” Cindy sounded concerned.

  “No reason. Thanks.” He flipped his phone closed. He wasn’t about to tell them that Katherine had no intentions of telling him where she lived. She’d out-and-out lied.

  That woman!

  Before his front door closed behind him, his phone vibrated. He set his keys on the coffee table, sat down, and leaned his head back against the top of the couch.

  “What, Evans?”

  “What are you implying, Benton? Did she have you drop her off at a different house?”

  “She led me to believe she lives at the neighbor’s home, right next door. She had me drive around back, up an easement alley area. She went in through the back gate.”

  “And, you watched her go in the back door of the neighboring home?” Evans now narrated for Cindy.

  “Not exactly. I tried to watch her. It wasn’t well lit, and then she disappeared into the side of the hedge.”

  “She disappeared into the side of the hedge?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I said.”

  “How did the two of you get along prior to her telling you the wrong house?”

  “Surprisingly well. We played the quiet game for the latter part of the drive. I sometimes play it with my niece, Hailey. When she chatters too much, the game works like a charm.”

  “You played the quiet game because you felt Katherine was chattering too much?” Evans said.

  “No, I wanted to see if it were possible for us to get along without arguing.”

  “So you played the quiet game to avoid arguing, and then Katherine led you to believe she lives at the neighbors’. I know there’s a conclusion here.”

  Quinn studied the textured ceiling. “Yes, I came to the same conclusion.”

  “I don’t know why you were so insistent on driving her home. Carl wanted to drive her home.”

  “You know very well why.” Quinn rolled a kink out of his neck. “You were getting ready to invite her next Friday, and I’d already told you tonight’s her last time with the group.”

  “I didn’t invite her here for you; I invited her for Carl.”

  “She doesn’t like Carl, plus she’s not comfortable with him taking her home. So I get stuck taking her home.”

  “Shouldn’t we take a vote?”

  “No, I’m the featured speaker.”

  “That you are, Benton, that you are.”

  Chapter Ten

  On his way home from work Monday afternoon, Quinn took a left off the Troy highway. Usually, he drove home on Logan Street, but today he’d taken Hunter, the short gravel side street so that he could drive past the south side of the Kings’ home instead of the front. Hoping he wouldn’t run into Katherine, he watched the yellow bungalow and yard for Ethel.

  He grinned at the sweet memory of her visit to his office.

  A wide-brimmed straw hat bobbed near the side picket fence, and then he glimpsed her lean, slightly stooped figure beneath it. Carrying a long weed, Ethel ambled toward a debris can. Quinn rolled his car to a stop beside the gate and powered down the automatic window. Would she recognize him?

  “Is there something I can help you with?” Ethel ambled closer, set one hand on top of the gate, and adjusted her amber-framed glasses.

  “Hello, Mrs. King, I’m not sure if you remember me.”

  “Professor B.!” She lifted the latch and nudged the gate open.

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard that we’re almost neighbors. I live around the corner on Lynn Street.” He shifted into park as she approached.

  “Well, I’ll be. How in the world did you ever figure it out?” Using her forearm, she brushed her hair away from her face and then set both of her pink-gardening-gloved hands on her narrow hips. “Does Katherine know?”

  He nodded. Her granddaughter hadn’t told her a thing.

  “Shame on her. I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

  “I agree with you.” Shame on Katherine.

  “I told Katherine about how we’d hit it off, and of course, she wasn’t very happy on account of the B. Did she ever apologize?”

  “She hasn’t.” He frowned.

  “I see.” He could tell by the furrowed wrinkles on her brow that her granddaughter’s hard-heartedness concerned her. “I’ve been praying about it. I never told you how embarrassed she was for the way she behaved. Maybe given time, you’ll see that she rarely behaves that way.” Ethel glanced toward the house. “She’s home now. Otherwise, I’d invite you to have dinner with us. It’s just horrible leftovers.” She waved a hand. “A ramen noodle salad that I made from my girlfriend Sharon’s recipe, and it tastes nothing like the one she brought to my Scrabble party last month. I swear she left out something important when she wrote the recipe. The ingredients cost me ten dollars, and I just can’t bring myself to throw the rest away. In the old days, we would have just given it to the chickens, but they’re too much work for me now.”

  Quinn smiled and nodded. Ethel had no idea he’d seen Katherine the last two Fridays and even brought her home once.

  “Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow?” She smiled. “About five o’clock. We’ll have meatloaf. I’m in the phone book, the only listing under King.”

  “What about your granddaughter?” He suppressed a chuckle.

  Ethel’s brows lifted. “She has the same number too, but she didn’t want her name listed.”

  “What I meant is . . . won’t Katherine mind that you’ve invited me to dinner?”

  “We won’t tell her.” Ethel pretended to zip her lip as she glanced toward the house. “If she finds out about our secret meeting—she finds out. In the meantime, I’m not telling her.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “She’ll be so happy we’re not having Top Ramen noodle salad again that she may not even notice you.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” Like Ethel, he watched the west-facing windows in case Katherine happened to look out for some reason.

  “I’ll make meatloaf. Katherine loves my meatloaf. If you ever want to buy me flowers, I’m fond of yellow. Red is far too serious, and should be reserved for very special occasions.”

  “I’ll try and remember that, Ethel.” He grinned.

  Now was as good a time as any to make a run to Tidyman’s. He’d get a few groceries and some yellow flowers for Ethel.

  Ж

  Keyed up about seeing Professor B. again, Ethel told herself to get a grip, or Katherine would know she was up to something. She took the leftovers out of the fridge, set the Tupperware containers on the counter, and announced, “Dinner’s ready.”

  After three days of having Top Ramen noodle salad for dinner, maybe Katherine would be so hungry tomorrow she’d be too weak to complain about Quinn Benton. Ethel giggled.

  “Why are you in such a good mood?” Katherine noticed immediately.

  “Oh.” Ethel waved a hand. “It’s just that tonight’s our last night having these terrible leftovers.”

  “Again.” Katherine pulled a plate
down from the cupboard. “The noodles are so soggy, Grandma. I don’t mean to complain.”

  “They’re awful. Let’s make toast to help fill us up.”

  Katherine took the yellow quilted cover off the toaster that resided on the counter next to the boxed cereal. Next, she plugged it in and slid two pieces of Roman Meal bread between the rungs.

  Tomorrow night was going to be so much fun. Ethel couldn’t wait to see the look on Katherine’s face when she saw Professor B. sitting at their kitchen table.

  “What are you so giggly about, Grandma?”

  Wide-eyed, Ethel bit the insides of her mouth. “I’m on a new medicine,” she fibbed. “It’s to control gas.”

  “I’m sure your doctor referred to it as flatulence, not gas.”

  “You’re right, it’s to control flatulence.” Just saying the word made Ethel giggle. “He warned me that there might be silly side effects.”

  “I’ve never heard of uncontrollable giggling being a side effect.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of laughing gas?”

  A smile escaped Katherine’s otherwise serious demeanor.

  “Are there any other silly side effects mentioned on the label?”

  “Yes, the desire to make meatloaf. I’m craving it. I’m going to make it tomorrow.”

  “Grandma, before I forget, Joe invited me to lunch on campus tomorrow.”

  “But . . . you’ll be home for dinner?”

  “Yes.” Katherine dribbled ranch dressing over the noodle salad.

  The green onions had shriveled, and the ramen noodles were saturated in soy sauce. Ethel had always been a firm believer in not throwing good food away—even when it wasn’t good. No wonder Katherine wanted to eat on campus.

  “Part of Joe’s coaching package is a food plan. He lives off campus now, and the only thing in his refrigerator is Cherry Coke.”

  “Oh, when did you see inside his refrigerator?” Ethel set down her fork. Were Katherine and Joe seeing each other again?

  “He told me, Grandma.”

  Ethel let out a relieved sigh. “So, you’ll still be home in time for meatloaf tomorrow night?” Half the fun of having Professor B. over would be seeing Katherine’s reaction.

  Katherine nodded. “I’ll come home after lunch.”

  “Not on Joe’s motorbike, I hope.”

  “Grandma, you were married and had three boys by my age. Twenty-eight,” Katherine reminded her. “Joe can drive me home on his motorbike if I want.”

  “Honor your parents in the Lord, and you’ll live a long life,” Ethel said, adding a sigh. She didn’t like the idea of Katherine sitting so close to Joe again. Usually, women wrapped their arms around a fellow when they were together on a bike. It would be best if Katherine just walked home, or . . . was there any possible way Professor B. could pick her up?

  “You’ve got that look you get when you’re scheming something.”

  “What look?” Ethel lifted her brows.

  “Your, uh . . . wrinkles gather right here.” Katherine pointed to the bridge of Ethel’s nose. “And you get this faraway look. Whatever you’re scheming, Grandma, know that I love you.”

  Ethel sighed. When Katherine got all sweet like this, she just wanted to tell her everything, even her news about Professor B. coming to dinner. She mentally zipped her lips together and for the moment, at least, was able to resist the temptation.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Would a Miss Katherine King please stay after class?” Professor Evans asked with a wave of his hand from the front of the classroom. There were only nine students in the class, and they all knew each other by name.

  “Yes, I will.” After the others had left, Katherine remained seated in the second row while Evans filed lecture notes into his briefcase. “You wanted to speak with me, Professor Evans?” she asked.

  “Yes.” Setting his hands on his hips, he scanned the thirty desk classroom. Wood paned windows lined the north wall of the century-old building, which overlooked the elm-lined walkway below.

  “Prepare yourself, Katherine.” Evans inhaled deeply.

  She nodded and did the same.

  “While Carl, Cindy, and I are especially fond of your presence on Friday nights . . . Benton is not.”

  The truth—though not a huge surprise—stung only a millisecond.

  “I’m not to inform you of this, but Benton’s intent on my not inviting you again.”

  “I see.” The truth stung for several seconds this time. And they’d gotten along so well last Friday, early Saturday morning, when he’d taken her home. Or, at least, she’d thought so.

  “Cindy and I have reached the conclusion that maybe this all stems from your visit to his office.”

  Really? Lately, it had felt like they were almost past their rocky start. Maybe there were other reasons behind Benton’s dislike of her.

  “Do you enjoy our Friday night get-togethers?” Evans peered over his spectacles at her.

  “Yes, very much.”

  “The majority loves having you there. We’d overrule him if we could, but without Benton, we’d be wanting for entertainment.”

  In his own way, Benton was very entertaining.

  Evans pointed to the front-row seats. “Outline, if you will, a persuasive apology for Benton. We love having you there on Fridays. Do your winsome best. Show him the Katherine we so dearly love. I’ll sort through my briefcase for however long it takes.”

  With dutiful posture, Katherine remained seated and stared at the blank piece of paper. Pride was the first word that came to mind. The B had been such a blow. But it all came down to pride. She began writing. Hmm . . . what else did he dislike about her? Maybe it was merely her presence.

  Evans chuckled. “That’s where that bill disappeared to.”

  “A little spring cleaning?” She glanced his direction.

  “Yes, what was that?” Brows furrowed, he read something.

  “I said, ‘A little spring cleaning?’”

  “Yes, I should every spring,” he mumbled. Folding the paper, he looked over the top of his briefcase at her. “Already I’ve unearthed a few things I’ve been searching for—for eons.”

  She nodded and penned her last thought. Rising, she tucked the outline for her sorry speech into her front pocket and returned her pen to her backpack.

  “I’ll escort you halfway.” Evans clicked his briefcase closed.

  Katherine laughed. “You do want me at your get-togethers.”

  “Yes, this visit is to apologize, nothing more. Short and sweet, like Carl’s last girlfriend.”

  Katherine’s pulse raced. “I feel like a third grader going to the principal for the first time. I mean second,” she confessed as they walked up the stairs to the third floor.

  “Good, remember to have that kind of respect and regret when you’re in Benton’s office. Show him the Katherine that Cindy, Carl, and I so dearly love.”

  “You know how to make a girl feel convicted. I’m sorry, Professor Evans, that it’s—”

  “Save that for Benton; it’s a very good first line, except insert his name where you put mine. Cindy and I will be next door in my office.”

  “You make it sound prearranged.”

  “Yes, to be honest, it was a mutual idea.”

  Tapping her on the shoulder, Evans paused. “I’ll have to walk ahead now, Katherine. I don’t want Benton to see the two of us together. Pause a moment, but try not to pause so long that you change your mind. Stick to the plan. Short and sweet.” Evans continued down the wide corridor ahead of her.

  In between classrooms, Katherine leaned against the wall, took the paper out of her pocket, and reviewed her sorry speech. Maybe it was a little too longwinded. Maybe she should keep it simple, something like . . . “I’m sorry I behaved so . . . abominably.” Hmmm . . . Dear Lord, help me to be humble, not proud. Help me to appear broken, even though I’m not completely broken. Help me to say a nice, meaningful apology. I would like to go to the professors’
group in the future. I suppose I am willing to brownnose Benton if that’s what it comes to. Not for a grade, mind You, but for the group. Help my heart to be right, amen.”

  The light was on in Benton’s office. She paused outside his door and knocked.

  “Come in.”

  Be brave and get it over with. She inhaled deeply and closed his door behind her. Benton turned slightly in his chair, his eyes widening before turning to face his desk. “Hello, Miss King. I was expecting Evans.”

  “Hello, Professor Benton. It’s just me.”

  “Why are you here?” He did not sound pleased.

  “Well, um . . .” Her shoulders dropped. “I’m not here to hound you if that’s what you’re worried about. Evans informed me that I need to apologize for my first visit.”

  “Evans!” He shook his head.

  “Yes, he said you don’t want me at the professors’ group on Friday because of my lack of apology. And I’ll be honest with you . . .” Without his bidding, she sat down in the chair kitty-corner to his desk. “Despite Carl’s presence, I enjoy the get-togethers.” She glanced at the industrial-style clock on the wall. It was already noon, and she’d forgotten to remind Grandma that she’d be having lunch with Joe. If Grandma forgot, she’d undoubtedly worry.

  “Is it all right if I use your phone?”

  “Yes.” Instead of handing her the base, he simply stretched the long black cord in front of him and handed her the receiver.

  “What’s the number?” he asked.

  “Eight, eight, two.” If she said their number in its entirety, would he remember it? She cruised around the back of his chair and, blocking his view of the phone, pressed the remaining four digits.

  “You’re too much, Katherine King.” He sighed as Grandma’s voice came on the line.

  “Grandma, it’s Katherine.” Phone cord wound around the back and front of Professor Benton. Maybe Cindy and Evans were watching on a mini hidden camera. She glanced up at the corners of his ceiling and didn’t see any signs of one. A pot of yellow gerbera daisies sat atop his desk. Hmm . . . the man finally had an admirer. The poor woman had no idea.