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

by Sherri Schoenborn Murray

  “Smother, suppress, annihilate.”

  “Yes, she could very easily annihilate any feelings she might have for someone.”

  Using a butter knife, Harold cut a cinnamon roll in half and took the larger section for himself. Bare handed, Quinn reached in and snagged the remainder and took his first bite. A generous amount of cinnamon flavored the tender dough topped with vanilla-spiked cream cheese frosting. The rolls were a vastly different gastronomical experience from the ones Ethel had delivered to his office.

  “Tell Katherine they’re delicious,” Quinn eyed the two nice-sized rolls remaining in the pan.

  “It’s the same recipe that I use,” Ethel said, matter of fact.

  Quinn nodded while maintaining a straight face.

  “Do you think she has the makings of an old maid?” Harold asked. Using a fork, he carved his next bite.

  “No.” Ethel shook her head. “She loves kids way too much, and she’s way too pretty. My worry is that there will be no good men left by the time she’s finished reading all her textbooks.”

  “Way too pretty.” Harold’s gaze shifted to Quinn.

  “She has very stunning aqua-blue-colored eyes.” Quinn focused on his next bite. That’s all he’d tell Harold or himself about his opinion of Katherine King. It was best not to dwell for too long on the subject.

  “Way too pretty, with aqua-blue, stunning eyes . . .” Harold repeated.

  “Joe, her ex-boyfriend, told her once that to change a fellow’s mind about something . . . all she had to do was meet his gaze and slowly blink,” Ethel said.

  “Has she ever employed the slow blink with you?” Harold addressed Quinn.

  Quinn recalled her visit to his office. She’d tapped her fingers together nervously, and at one point had even sat on them. “No.” Had she employed it last night at Evans’s door? He’d been in such a hurry to leave. No, she’d only employed the wide-eyed plead. No slow blink.

  Quinn loaded a large cinnamon roll onto his plate.

  “Did you teach your granddaughter how to make these?” Harold lifted his salt-and-pepper brows.

  “No.” Ethel giggled and waved a hand. “Her mother is quite the baker.”

  Quinn took another bite of the soft, not overly sweet dough with just the right amount of cinnamon and cream cheese frosting. Why had Katherine made the rolls for him? Did she secretly like him? No, that’s right, she’d bribed him to take her home so Carl couldn’t.

  Chapter Twenty

  Katherine wrapped up her Lewis and Clark reading and carried her empty coffee cup downstairs. When she opened the door into the living area, a fog-like smoke greeted her as it crept its way through the main floor. Burnt bacon permeated the air. The full-cycle hum of the exhaust fan above the stove informed her that Grandma was aware of the problem.

  It had happened before on occasion. Grandma would become immersed in a crossword puzzle or her gardening and forget something on the stove. On Katherine’s way to the sink, she passed Benton. He stood in front of the stove, wearing one of Grandma’s full-bibbed, tie-in-the-back aprons. Was she seeing things? She set the mugs in the sink and peered over her shoulder. He was indeed wearing Grandma’s dark blue calico apron with a scalloped bodice. Shredded hash browns filled a deep cast-iron skillet.

  “I told him he looks cute.” Seated at the table, Grandma whisked eggs in a green Tupperware container.

  “She made me put it on.”

  “Bacon gets so messy.” Grandma waved a hand.

  Benton was playing house with her grandmother.

  “We’re having omelets, toast, and crispy hash browns,” Grandma said. “Where’s Joe taking you?”

  “Some restaurant on Main.” Katherine shrugged. “Grandma, where’s your camera?”

  “I’m out of film.”

  “Good!” Benton chuckled.

  On her way through the living room, Katherine was surprised the furniture hadn’t been rearranged; the kitchen looked so different. She showered and then changed into jeans and her red scoop neck T-shirt. She blow-dried her hair and put on a light coat of mascara. In the medicine cabinet mirror, her eyes sparkled with nervous energy.

  Boy, Benton was sure here a lot. Could there be a chance he was interested in her? She recalled the way she’d behaved in his office, the countless times they’d argued, and how he didn’t want her to be included at the professor get-togethers. That had been the clincher.

  The man was not fond of her. He was fond of her grandmother.

  “You wore your red shirt.” Grandma smiled at her. “You got a little too much sun today, dear. Red and red.”

  “Is it too much red?” Katherine asked.

  “No, it’s just Joe.” As Grandma stood beside Quinn at the stove, she poured omelet batter into a Teflon pan.

  “What restaurant are you going to?” Benton asked.

  “Joe didn’t say. Unless the name is 541 North Main.”

  “Is he picking you up here?” Grandma asked.

  “No, I’m meeting him.”

  “Where are you meeting him?” Benton’s brows lifted.

  “I’m walking.”

  “Are you meeting him at the restaurant?” he asked.

  She strolled to the window and, with her back to him recalled that he’d seen her earlier in the day on the back of Joe’s bike. Had Benton guessed that they had a meeting place? When he was carrying his little box of tomato plants home, he’d indeed seen her. Any second, he was going to tattle on her. Grandma and Benton were perfect for each other; they were two overly protective, doting people at heart.

  “I’m walking.” It wasn’t a lie.

  “Are you walking all the way to 541 North Main?” he persisted.

  “Would you like to drive her, Quinn?” Grandma asked.

  “No,” they both said in unison.

  “Ethel said if you’d won the match, you wanted Joe to go to church with you in the morning.”

  He’d learned Grandma’s roundabout code for telling her not to lie. It wasn’t a lie; she was walking part of the way. She was twenty-eight—of legal age to drink, vote, and drive, but because of these two ninnies, she couldn’t walk alone after dark or hitch a ride on Joe’s motorbike. Well, just watch her.

  “She’s been asking Joe to go to church with us for years. Do you still want to go, Quinn?”

  Katherine inhaled and closed her eyes.

  “Yes, Ethel. It’s been on my heart to find a home church again. Thank you.”

  That was the clincher. Things were getting out of hand. Should she report him to the dean, or maybe the president of the university? There had to be something about getting too close to the grandmothers of your students, allowing yourself to be brownnosed by cinnamon rolls, and coddled by sweet elderly women. Katherine glanced at the pot of yellow gerbera daisies in the living room. Unfortunately, the coddling appeared to be mutual.

  Ж

  Katherine unclipped Joe’s extra motorcycle helmet and ran a hand through her tangled hair. The restaurant at 541 North Main was a little hole-in-the wall Chinese food place. A green, fang-toothed dragon mural was painted on the window. Joe walked ahead of her inside but remembered to hold the door open for her. One long, narrow room with low lighting made up the seating area. A red mesh bowl with a candle adorned the center of each table. A young, cute Asian woman seated them in a booth. Katherine faced the front while Joe faced the kitchen.

  “Was that her?” Katherine nodded toward the hostess and opened the tall laminated menu.

  “No, I think she’s her older sister.” Joe grinned and nodded toward a slim young woman who was taking the order for the couple seated across the aisle. “That’s her.” Chopsticks crisscrossed through her high, glossy bun.

  A silver pot of tea was delivered, and two glasses of iced water, and then Joe’s possible future girlfriend stood beside their table. “Are you ready to order?” She glanced from Joe to Katherine and, with a deep breath, back to Joe.

  “Hello, Anna, this is Katherine, my
good friend.”

  “Hello, Joe . . . Katherine.” With a brief bow of her head, she greeted Katherine.

  “Hello, Anna. Are you a student at the U of I?” Katherine asked.

  “No. Tonight’s special is Szechuan beef, very spicy.”

  Joe grinned.

  “I’ll have the number five combination dinner.” It had all her favorites: almond chicken, pork chow mein, and fried rice.

  “You like egg flower soup or hot and sour?”

  “Egg flower, please.”

  Anna inhaled and turned to Joe. Her dimpled profile and heavy sigh meant she liked Joe. Most likely Anna didn’t know Joe. For most girls, to not know Joe was to like Joe. He was attractive; he had a great smile. He was fun.

  “I’ll try your special. Szechuan. What was it again?” Smiling up at her, Joe dripped charm.

  “Szechuan beef, very spicy.”

  “Yes, I’ll have that.” He closed the menu.

  Szechuan beef, very spicy was all this cute little waitress had to say to get Joe down the aisle. Some men were that brainless. In a way, Benton was being brainless too—letting himself fall for Miss Palouse, a woman he hadn’t even met, hadn’t even seen. God made men visual, and Joe’s vision was twenty-twenty.

  What was Benton thinking? He was a good-looking, well-educated man. He could place a higher value on physical attraction than the norm, because like Joe, he could get away with it.

  Joe leaned across the table. “What do you think?”

  “She’s cute. How’d you meet her?” She unfolded the paper napkin on her lap.

  “Jeff and I ate here last week.”

  Jeff was a Moscow native, an old hall buddy of Joe’s from when he’d lived in the Gault dorms.

  “Anna was your waitress?”

  “Yes.” He grinned.

  “And have you called or spoken with her since?”

  “No, if you approve, I’ll get her number tonight.”

  Frowning, Katherine closed one eye and looked at him with the other. “She probably thinks I’m your girlfriend, Joe.”

  “Nah, that’s why I said you were a good friend.”

  Anna delivered two bowls of egg flower soup. Katherine eyed the clear broth with chunks of egg and green onion suspiciously. It probably contained some kind of Chinese poison.

  “Do you play tennis, Anna?” For Joe’s sake, Katherine would try to find out as much as she could.

  “No.”

  “What do you think of motorcycles?”

  Craning her neck, Anna looked directly at Katherine. “What did you say?”

  “Do you like riding on motorcycles?”

  She smiled and looked at Joe. “When it’s not raining.”

  He must have driven his motorcycle here last week and parked in the front parking space. Now Anna knew it was an interview question, and that Katherine was indeed on her side.

  After Anna left, Joe smiled and leaned back in his seat. “Good question, Kate.”

  Ten minutes later, when Anna delivered two white platters heaped high with enough food to feed a family of eight, Katherine had formulated a dating question tailored to Joe’s personality.

  “Are you a punctual person, Anna?”

  Miss Chopsticks appeared confused.

  “She’s trying to see if you and I are right for each other.” Joe wagged a finger back and forth between Anna and himself. Stretching her neck, Anna appeared two inches taller.

  “Is it important for you to be on time?” Katherine asked. “Or is it okay to arrive a few minutes late, as the party won’t really start until you’re there anyway?” It was Joe’s mentality to a T, but this early in the game, she wasn’t about to tell Anna.

  Anna giggled. “Joe, your friend . . .” She twirled her finger near her ear.

  “Wait a second . . . it’s a good question.” He grinned up at Anna. “What’s your take on being late?”

  “It’s very important to be on time. A courtesy.”

  Joe’s shoulders sank. The flame was partly doused.

  Confused, Anna glanced back and forth from Joe to Katherine.

  “Being on time is not one of Joe’s strengths.” Katherine shrugged.

  “Timeliness very important, Joe, but nobody perfect.” Anna proceeded to another table, a group of three.

  “Can you believe all this food?” By Joe’s glum expression, it was apparent his fling was flung.

  “I personally think being on time is a good trait—not one you should hold against her.” Katherine sank her fork into the chow mein and teamed it with half a forkful of fried rice.

  “Good dating questions, Kate. What other great qualities of mine are you going to pick next?”

  “I don’t have to inquisition her further unless you want me to.”

  “Of course, I do. By the end of the evening, I want to know yes, I’ll ask her out, or no, she’s not right for me.”

  Katherine smiled. He was like Benton—he wanted to eliminate her in one date.

  “Speaking of love . . .” Joe grinned. “Something’s going on with the professor.”

  “He’s my new grandfather. As of last week, my grandmother and Grandpa Benton have teamed up to ruin my life.”

  “What do you mean? What’s going on?” Joe’s captivating blues narrowed.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Quinn slathered Ethel’s delicious strawberry freezer jam on a piece of toast. “Is this hard to make?”

  “It’s easy. I know the recipe by heart. You buy some Sure-Jell, a carton of strawberries, and a bag of sugar. Too bad they don’t have a freezer jam category at the fair. I’d finally win a blue ribbon.”

  “You would. Aren’t strawberries in season right now?”

  “Yes. Tidyman’s has them on sale. I really should make one more batch to give away as Christmas gifts.”

  “I’m very happy about the jar I have in my fridge.” Quinn brushed the crumbs off his hands. “Ethel, where’s your phone book?” he asked, rising from the table. “I want to look up the restaurant that Katherine’s at.”

  “Why?”

  “All she knew was the address. I had the worst case of food poisoning a month or two ago. I almost went to the emergency room, except I was too sick to drive myself there.”

  “What an awful thought. It’s in the top drawer of the curio cabinet.”

  In the living room, Quinn found the half-inch-thick Latah County phone book and flipped to Restaurants in the yellow page section. He returned to the table and scanned the Chinese food section first, searching by address, not by name.

  There it was: 541 N. Main, The Green Dragon. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Ethel, it’s the same place.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” She regarded him over her half-eaten omelet.

  “Five four one North Main is The Green Dragon, the same place I got food poisoning.”

  “Aw . . . raunchy potatoes. You need to tell Katherine.”

  “I’ll drive there. In the meantime, call the restaurant and try and warn her.”

  He wrote the number on a sticky note and handed it to Ethel. “I should have reported getting sick. Hopefully, their food-handling practices have improved.”

  “Hopefully, she won’t get sick.” Ethel scanned his legible print. “She’s such a baby about pain.”

  Ж

  Ethel dialed the number for the Chinese restaurant. The female voice that answered was muffled “Is this The Green Dragon?” Ethel asked.

  “Yes. You want takeout?”

  “No, we’re having omelets tonight. The reason I’m calling is . . . I was wondering if you could find one of your customers for me. We need to warn her about your food.”

  Click. The receptionist hung up on her.

  Flustered, Ethel looked at the sticky note again and redialed. She had to be smarter about her wording this time.

  “The Green Dragon, this is Anna, how may I help you?”

  It was a different receptionist this time
. “Yes, I was wondering if you could find a young woman for me.”

  Click.

  The Green Dragon hung up on her again.

  Ж

  The digital clock on the dash read 6:45; Katherine and Joe could easily be into the middle of their meal by now. Quinn sighed. The minute he’d heard North Main, he should have connected the two. He found a parking space in front of a computer repair store, three buildings north of The Green Dragon.

  Quinn swung open the glass door and briefly scanned the two long rows of booths that lined each side of the room.

  “Seating for one?” a young hostess asked, holding a menu.

  “No, I need to get an urgent message to a young woman who’s here, somewhere.” He scanned the booths. “But I don’t see her.”

  The hostess frowned.

  “She’s wearing a red shirt. Straight blonde hair.” Quinn gestured past his shoulders.

  “Is she very beautiful?”

  The question was loaded; admitting that Katherine King was beautiful was a giant, soul- searching step. He inhaled. “She has her moments.”

  “Follow me.”

  He followed the hostess past several booths and halted behind her as she paused to speak with a busboy clearing an unusually large mess.

  “Crud!” Off to his left, a familiar voice resonated.

  Quinn turned. Three booths away sat Katherine. She probably thought he liked her, was even stalking her. He’d inform her and leave, and someday maybe she’d thank him. But, knowing Katherine, he doubted it. He stopped in front of Joe’s and her table and awaited her sarcasm.

  “Hello, Mr. Benton, you wouldn’t happen to be”—she frowned—“stalking me?” She set down her fork.

  A silver pot of tea and a bottle of soy sauce sat in the center of their table. He scanned their meals. Joe had white rice, and Katherine, poor Katherine, had half a mound of fried rice.

  “We have a slight problem. Has Ethel gotten a hold of you?”

  “No.” The color in her face drained. “Is everything okay?”

  “At the moment.” With two flicks of his wrist, he motioned for her to scoot over. They were really only one-person booths, so he was asking a lot. But, he didn’t want to announce to the entire restaurant that within twenty-four hours she’d wish she’d never been here.