“In what way?” She wasn’t going to be shy, and took a cheese-covered chip and popped it into her mouth. Even on a full tummy, it was delicious.
“Well . . .” He frowned. “So far it’s been disappointing. Instead of chemistry or friendship at the end of the evening, there’s usually this . . . apathy. Tonight, the woman was simply rude.”
“That’s too bad.” Why would any young woman be rude to a nice young man like Quinn? Ethel shook her head. “If I were in your shoes, I’d find a good home church and then start your search for a bride. Do you attend church?”
“I used to with Sylvia. We attended a small Baptist church within walking distance of here.”
“But you haven’t been back?”
He shook his head. “It was Sylvia’s church first, her friends and family. She moved to Spokane. Moscow’s too far from Nordstrom and Costco for her.”
“That’s funny. Katherine feels her hometown of Vancouver is too big compared to Moscow, and mind you, Vancouver, Washington, is not big. Even when she was a little girl, she liked knowing where everything was. Everything had its special place.” Ethel knew she was rambling, but she was on a roll. “My girlfriend Sharon says that Katherine must have some deep-rooted psychosis when it comes to men, maybe relationships. And my other girlfriend, Betty, agrees. They’re both from my Scrabble group. They think Katherine’s excuse for not dating because of her master’s is just an excuse.”
“What do you think?” Quinn loaded a chip into his mouth.
“Ever since Joe, she’s buried her heart in the books. He cheated on her, you know, with a boxed Malibu blonde. Katherine’s hair is the real thing, in case you didn’t know.” Ethel waved a hand. The little gesture sent the round of jalapeno rolling off her chip and onto the floor. Quinn didn’t appear to notice. “They’re just friends. He’s the head tennis coach at the university now.”
“I’ve heard.” He nodded. “In the time I’ve wasted on blind dating, I could have completed this new course I’ve been working on for the fall.”
“Don’t fret. When you find your girl, she’ll be worth all the time you’ve wasted.” Though he smiled, there was heartbreak in his deep-set Doctor Zhivago eyes.
“Thank you, Ethel; I’ve needed a woman friend.”
She patted his hand. Quinn’s big-city girl had broken his heart. He was working all week, cooking and cleaning for himself, and trying to find a bride on Fridays. Despite Katherine’s personal history with him, Ethel liked Professor B. very much.
“It sounds like a war scene.” He nodded toward the closed pocket door. “Not the typical girly movie.”
The volume from the living room had risen again. But Ethel couldn’t tell if it was orchestra or cannons.
“After the movie, Katherine’s going to witness to them.”
“Really?” He cocked his head to one side.
“Yes,” Ethel whispered. “She remembered after she’d invited them that there’s an affair in the movie.”
“Oh.” His eyes widened. “Sounds like she’s seen it before.”
“There’s no nudity, thank heaven. But, because she’s not super close with these girls, she wants them to know her faith and values. She does not condone extramarital affairs.”
“She’s using it as an opportunity to share her faith.” Quinn nodded. “That’s good.”
“We should pray that despite this actor’s good looks, these young women see that his actions are not God-honoring.”
“Well put, Ethel.”
She reached for his hand above the table before they bowed their heads in prayer. “Oh, Lord, You know the evening that is at hand. We lift Quinn up to You and pray that in the midst of his dating, he finds the sweet young woman You’ve intended him to share his life with.” Ethel paused to collect her thoughts.
“And about these young women in the next room, Lord, I pray they’re able to discern that a relationship outside of the bonds of holy matrimony is sin. Sin used to be so black and white on our little TV sets, and now it’s in Technicolor. Help them to see sin for what it is, in black and white. Be with Katherine as she gives her testimony. Help the girls to see past her smart stuff to her sweet spirit, and the love she has for You.”
After their prayer wound down, Quinn patted her hand. “Ethel, you are such a breath of fresh air.” Tender emotion shimmered in his eyes. “I know where to come now when I need some cheering up.”
“If I’m not home, God always is,” she said, touched by his words.
Ethel couldn’t help but marvel that while the girls were in the living room watching their professor look-alike on-screen, she was enjoying his company in the kitchen.
Ж
“Ladies . . .” Katherine said. It was time for the little speech she’d rehearsed. “I haven’t done anything outside of the class with you girls before, and to have you over and watch a movie in which the main conflict is an affair, well, I feel that I need to follow it up by sharing my faith.”
“Please not a sermon,” Ronnie said.
Katherine’s tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth before her jaw dropped. Ronnie.
“No, I think she’s doing more of a little footnote by . . .” Angel rolled her wrist, “following it up.”
“You mean a conclusion.” Ronnie rolled her eyes. “A footnote goes at the end of your paper to show your references.”
“Oh, I thought that was an endnote,” Angel said.
“Endnotes go at the end of the document. Footnotes are at the end of each page.” Ronnie flipped her red hair over her shoulder. “If you put your footnote for a conclusion, no wonder you got a D.”
“Okay, my turn.” Katherine breathed in deeply. “I’m a Christian, and I believe that when you marry and say I do, you’re making a covenant with God.” She paused, waiting for Ronnie to make another landfill remark. “So when Yuri was unfaithful to his wife, he’d also broken his vows with God.”
“Don’t forget Laura was married, too,” Ronnie said.
“Absolutely.” Katherine nodded.
“Thank you for pointing it out, Katherine. My folks are always saying ‘we’ve moved away from morals and into entertainment,’” Brenda said, sitting up nice and tall.
Thank you, Jesus.
“I hated the way it ended. He was there. She was there.” Angel swayed from side-to-side. “And, oh . . .”
“You know there are more Zhivago movies,” Brenda said.
“Omar Sharif movies,” Ronnie corrected Brenda.
“There are?” Angel’s face lit up.
Katherine’s gaze traveled to the pot of yellow daisies on the side table to the right of the TV. There wasn’t any chance Benton would drop by for dinner again, was there? Wednesday night’s dinner with Grandma had been a one-time thing. Hadn’t it?
The little carved wood bird on Grandma’s clock cuckooed ten times.
“If we do, you’ll need to leave by ten,” Katherine said.
“Or you turn into a pumpkin?” Brenda asked.
“Maybe she has late dates?” Ronnie’s mouth bunched as she studied her.
“No, it’s because of her grandma, she probably goes to bed early,” Angel said.
Katherine smiled. She’d leave it at that.
Chapter Fifteen
“I’ll refer to tonight’s date as Paula,” Benton began. “I still feel a tad uncomfortable talking badly about a woman to women.”
“Don’t feel bad; we do it all the time.” Cindy waved a hand.
For his blind date with Miss Pullman, Benton had worn a Wazzu-red polo. Maybe it was due to the low lighting in the room, but his resemblance to Zhivago was uncanny. He even had a little bit of a cleft chin. Katherine melted a bit into the loveseat, her tea sloshing onto her saucer. Had anyone noticed?
She glanced at Carl.
Their eyes met. He did a double take, followed by a double lift of his brows.
Her stomach double knotted.
“Did you say badly, Benton?” Evans sighed. “We�
�d held such high hopes for Miss Pullman. And I must say, from the moment you stepped through the door tonight, there was an extra spring in your step; I could have sworn your evening had gone well.”
“Paula and I met at Alex’s Restaurant in Pullman. Has everyone been there?”
The response was unanimous. Alex’s was a landmark, famous for nachos, enchiladas, candle-lit tables, and ambiance. Katherine sighed; she loved Alex’s.
“Paula met me downstairs, right before the steep carpeted stairwell—right on time, six o’clock sharp. Punctuality is important to me.”
“Too important.” Evans rolled his eyes.
Cindy giggled.
Katherine carefully returned her teacup to her saucer. Did Evans recall that line of her Joe List? In a laundry-list style, she’d written: Doesn’t understand the term “punctuality.” Out of the corner of her eye, she ever so briefly glanced at Evans—there was no sign of recollection on his slightly flushed, bearded face. What had happened to her Joe List? Had he truly lost it, or had he only pretended to?
“The evening started off promising.” Benton crossed one knee over the other. “There was solid eye contact. She had a pleasing manner, and—” he looked at Evans—“there were several seven-plus-letter words.”
Without moving his head, Evans glanced at her. Why? In her Joe List, she’d written something about Joe’s limited vocabulary.
“Seven-plus-letter words are a significant improvement,” Evans said. “Carl, this is only your third blind date recap, correct?”
“Yes.” Carl set his cup and saucer on the coffee table. “Unless Quinn’s counting the woman he’d met at the Polish Sausage Feed.”
“Uniontown.” Evans chuckled. “I was there, as well. I witnessed the entire ignominy.”
Carl smiled at Katherine. “I felt embarrassed for Miss Uniontown.”
“I felt embarrassed for me,” Benton said.
Perhaps, Evans invited her here more for Benton than Carl? Because of her Joe List and Benton’s similar traits, it wasn’t a far-fetched presumption. No, Evans knew she had a huge credit load, and Benton didn’t date students. And she, for that matter, didn’t date anyone.
“Her mobile phone rang shortly after we ordered.” Benton smirked. “The evening went downhill from there. For the next fifteen minutes, Trish, I mean Paula, talked on the phone to a friend.”
“About what? It may have been some type of girl code,” Evans asked.
“It was a woman from work. Paula asked about the caller’s daughter, and off the top of her head gave the woman some kind of a recipe.”
“What kind of recipe?” Cindy leaned forward and nabbed a madeleine.
Carl had ever so inadvertently nudged himself an inch closer.
“Some of the ingredients were balsamic vinegar and Kalamata olives; that’s all I remember.”
“You fool, the woman cooks gourmet!” Evans sighed and set down his teacup. “It was girl code. They’d rehearsed their conversation so you’d discern that she is both caring and a gourmet cook.”
“You give our gender far too much credit,” Cindy said.
“Paula went onto say something about needing to buy a new can opener before next Friday.”
“They’re going camping. She’s an outdoor girl. If you’d been listening, you would have heard what a great catch Trish . . . er . . . Paula is, but all you could focus on was the fact that she wasn’t paying attention to you.”
Was Evans serious? Except for Benton, they all had a good chuckle.
“Did she say manual or electric?” Katherine asked.
“She said can opener.” Benton set his mug down on a coaster on the nearby end table and looked at Cindy. “Evans always does this. He becomes more interested in my blind dates than I was able to be.”
“I hope you run out of friends soon, Benton,” Evans said. “Your blind dates are creating baggage.”
“The problem is people who I thought know me well, I’m finding . . . don’t know me at all. Paula is a prime example.” Benton studied the brocade ceiling. “Paula continued talking on her phone. She even set an elbow on the table. After ten more minutes, it was like I was no longer seated across from her. That’s when I thought of calling Ethel, Katherine’s grandmother.”
He’d called Grandma.
“Now, Ethel is the woman you wish was forty years younger?” Evans asked.
“Thirty would also be fine. My conversation with Ethel strangely appeared to bring Paula to her senses. She ended her call and, for a moment or two, eavesdropped on mine.” His gaze veered to Katherine. “Your grandmother needed help with a crossword puzzle.”
Katherine nodded. One or two words usually stumped her.
“After I hung up, Paula drilled me about who I was chatting with. I proceeded to tell her that I thought her conversing on the phone for sixteen minutes in the middle of our dinner date was rude.”
“You didn’t?” Evans said. “But of course, you did. That is the pattern. Sometime in the course of the evening, Benton always muddles it. What did you tell Paula about Ethel?”
“I simply told her that Ethel is an elderly neighbor woman who I’ve recently befriended.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t tell her that she’s also the grandmother of your loveliest grad student. That would have broken the ice.”
Wide-eyed, Katherine stared at the bowl of walnuts on the coffee table.
“Evans!” Cindy nudged him.
Carl cleared his throat.
“I’d like to clear the air.” Benton glanced from Evans to Carl. “My friendship with Ethel has nothing to do with her granddaughter.”
“In my day, I found nothing regarding faculty-student relationships in the university handbook.” Evans sounded matter of fact. “Thus, I dated and married my second wife, who was finishing her master’s, and was only three years younger than me. I too frown on those professors who take advantage of the power a professor can wield over their awe-gripped victims.”
“You married your student?” Katherine couldn’t believe her ears.
“He did.” Cindy nodded.
“Just to warn you, Carl, when the jowls start to droop—grow a beard.” Evans stroked his well-groomed chin. “Otherwise, the young female students no longer gaze starry-eyed. But don’t worry; you both have several good years left.”
Evans’s gaze narrowed. “Benton, where did you go after you called me? It was only eight o’clock.”
“Uh, I killed time and felt sorry for myself.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t just come here. We could have been done by ten.”
“I had a lot of ironing.” Quinn inhaled. “I still do.”
“You don’t iron when you’re depressed.” Evans glanced back and forth between Benton and her.
“It probably gave him something to do.” Cindy patted his arm.
Eyes downcast, Benton peered at the Persian rug. Even though he was holding out for Miss Palouse, in the meantime, he’d surprisingly held high hopes for Miss Pullman.
“Get back to Paula.” Evans wrapped his arm around the back of Cindy’s section of the couch. “We are all going mad in anticipation.”
“After I told her that I thought she was rude for talking for sixteen minutes straight, she told me I had initiated my call and that she was simply responding politely to hers.” Benton shook his head. “Our conversation went downhill from there. My response was: she failed to inform the caller that she was seated across the table from an intelligent and quite good-looking man who’d looked forward to meeting her for two weeks.”
“You didn’t!” Evans groaned.
“I most certainly did!”
“You have a doctorate, so intelligent is probable, but please tell me you didn’t refer to yourself as quite good looking.”
“I did.” Benton nodded. “Sylvia made the mistake of convincing me that I am.”
“But her love was blind . . . for a while.”
Ouch. How long would it take for Benton to rec
over?
He appeared fine.
“About a minute after my blatantly honest remarks about myself, Paula excused herself from the table to use the senoritas’ room. Ten minutes passed. Our dinners arrived—my chimichanga with sour cream and her beautiful cheesy nacho. In her absence, I nibbled on one of my olives and then I started looking at my wristwatch. Another ten minutes rolled by. Finally, I got up and asked the cashier if she’d seen a slim blonde woman with a black-and-white fur-looking purse.”
Evans sighed.
“The cashier said, ‘Yes, she left twenty minutes ago.’ Paula told the cashier to give me this.” Benton pulled a blue sticky note out of his front pant pocket.
“You’re kidding, right?” Carl asked.
“No.” Unfolding the note, Benton cleared his throat. “Quinn, I’m sorry. We obviously are not meant for one another. Good luck finding someone.—Paula.”
“I’m sorry, old friend. At least, you found this out before either of you wasted too much time on one another,” Evans said.
“Don’t be. I am getting tired of people who matchmake based on marital status and age. ‘They’re both over thirty and unmarried—they’re perfect for each other.’”
“Are you running out of friends yet?” Carl asked.
“Next week is Miss Palouse. I’ve looked forward to meeting her for months.”
“Since the Jazz Festival.” Evans nodded.
“That’s right. Evans’s good friend Guttenheimer is responsible for this pairing. And just so this group knows, my next three Fridays are mapped out. Miss Palouse. Miss Harvard—”
“Harvard as in university or small, minuscule town north of here?” Evans asked.
“Miniscule town.” Benton yawned.
“The saga continues.” Goliath appeared from beneath the coffee table, jumped up on the couch, and cuddled in the crook of Evans’s arm. “Miss Palouse has mastered prolonging the inevitable. One cannot fall in love on the phone.”
“She has a very attractive phone voice, plus she’s intelligent, candid, a great listener.” Benton begged to differ.
Sticky Notes - A clean romance (Ethel King Series Book 1) Page 10
