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

by Sherri Schoenborn Murray

  She uncoiled one foot from beneath her and scooted over toward the half wall. “Oh, crud. My foot’s asleep.” She moaned.

  “You shouldn’t have sat on it.” Joe rolled his eyes.

  Katherine grimaced and shook her foot beneath the table.

  “Kate has no pain tolerance—physical, emotional…”

  “Mental.” Quinn nodded. It made perfect sense.

  “That’s enough, Mr. Benton.”

  He was surprised she hadn’t elbowed him. He could tell she wanted to. Perhaps when she’d been in the womb, some type of cushioning had gone wrong in her cells. Was there a term for her condition?

  “In case you didn’t know, she really prefers to be called Kate,” Joe said.

  “I do not. He’s lying.” She kicked Joe under the table. A smile followed her unladylike behavior. “That appears to have done the trick. I’ll have to remember that for the future.”

  “When in pain, kick Joe.” Quinn nodded and cleared his throat. “Remember how I got food poisoning four, maybe five Fridays ago?” He paused but didn’t wait for her reply. “This is the place. My date and I determined it was the fried rice.” He pointed to her remaining half pile. “It also could have been the deep-fried shrimp appetizer, but we both leaned toward the fried rice.”

  “I just ate here last week,” Joe said. “Not a problem.”

  “Did you have fried rice?”

  “I had white.” Joe glanced down at his heaping platter of food, served with a separate bowl of white rice.

  “I think you’re fine, but it looks like I’m a little late for Kate.” Quinn eyed her meal. “Sorry, I didn’t think to look up the address in the phone book until halfway through dinner. The omelet was very good, by the way.”

  “How soon did your symptoms show up?” She stared at her plate.

  “Let’s see, I ate here on a Friday night at about seven thirty with Miss Genesee.”

  “Is that really her name?” Joe chuckled.

  “No, Benton doesn’t disclose the real names of his blind dates, so the group has resorted to fictional names based on residence.”

  Wide-eyed, Joe appeared to be waiting for the punch line.

  “Our meal arrived at about seven thirty, seven forty,” Quinn said.

  “Is anything okay?” The waitress addressed the group and set a glass of iced water down in front of him.

  “Anna, you mean, ‘Is everything okay?’” Joe chuckled.

  Narrowing her gaze, the young woman appeared confused.

  “Would you like a menu?” Anna asked Quinn.

  “No, thank you.” He waited until she was several steps away from the table before he elaborated on his last visit. “My stomach began to gurgle a bit that night. By two o’clock, I was in utter pain and agony. Miss Genesee’s symptoms didn’t appear until five o’clock Saturday morning.” He sighed and studied Katherine’s puzzled gaze. “Don’t forget there’s a paper due on Monday.”

  “I have the rough draft done.”

  “I suggest you make it an early evening, and address the final draft as soon as you get home.”

  Joe laughed. “You like her. This is all some crazy plot because you want her home early, and you don’t want me spending time with her.”

  Katherine shook her head. “I’m helping in child care tomorrow morning at church. Should I call in now?”

  Was she mocking him? Quinn couldn’t tell. “There is the possibility.”

  “Wait a second . . .” Joe held up a pointer finger. “If everyone got sick from their fried rice, this place would be out of business.”

  “Maybe it was just my luck.” Quinn shrugged. “I should have reported it. I feel bad now that I didn’t.”

  “Why’d you refer to it as 541 North Main?” Katherine asked Joe.

  “I wanted it to be a surprise. I know how you love Chinese.”

  It was a good note to leave on. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” He sighed. “And, Katherine, I finished reviewing the essays.”

  Wide-eyed, she swallowed. “I’m not sure if I like how you prefaced that.”

  “I didn’t know if you wanted to wait until Monday to find out.”

  Her rib cage expanded. “What’s your final verdict?”

  “I upped your grade to a B-plus.”

  “Why?” She didn’t blink.

  What she really meant was Why wasn’t it an A?

  “I still think your conclusion could have been stronger. Your writing in many areas was brilliant, but your conclusion was wanton.”

  “Thank you for making my evening complete.”

  Hmmm . . . He’d thought she’d be pleased.

  “Did you say her ‘conclusion was wonton?’” Joe’s gaze narrowed.

  Quinn grinned. “I believe Ethel wants to get in a game of Scrabble. If you two care to join us later . . .”

  “Isn’t that the game you always wanted me to play with the little wood letters?” Joe appeared intrigued.

  “He’s not really the word-game type.” Katherine avoided looking Quinn’s direction. Probably because there were daggers in her eyes.

  It was too bad—in Scrabble, four was a better player number than two.

  “You’re welcome to join us.” Quinn rose to his feet.

  “We’ll pass.” Katherine scooped a forkful of chow mein.

  Quinn strode toward the door. That’s right, Evans had told him limited vocabulary was one of the items on Katherine’s Joe List. He doubted if that was enough to keep them apart. Joe was athletic, good looking, and, if he’d read the situation correctly, very taken with Katherine.

  Ж

  Near the end of the Sunday school hour right after snack time, Katherine assisted the children at the sink. One by one the four-and five-year-olds climbed on the toddler step and squirted dabs of liquid soap into their chubby little hands. In the last half hour, Katherine’s stomach had begun to churn. Was she simply being psychosomatic? Her symptoms were seven hours later than Benton’s had been. Still, she couldn’t help feeling uneasy.

  Lord, please help me not to get sick. I have a paper due tomorrow, and I’m taking nine credits in the master’s program, and, well, You know.

  In the middle of Pastor Ken’s sermon, the stomachache and other symptoms were no longer a figment of her imagination. Pastor Ken was at his best. His sermon explored Romans and loving without hypocrisy. She didn’t want to get sick in the middle of it.

  Was she getting a fever? Any minute now she might need to hightail it to the bathroom. In between aches, she felt convicted: loving men was difficult at times. Katherine stared at the cross. She wanted to be kind to Carl, yet firm. She wanted to be the friend that Joe needed. Her thoughts drifted to Benton. Seated on the other side of Grandma, he’d followed through on her invitation to join them. Her prayer was the clearest for him. Help him to find the woman he’s searching for, Lord, and boy is he searching. I pray for his happiness, amen.

  She nudged Grandma. “I’m getting sick.”

  Grandma opened her church purse and handed her the car keys. “I’ll have Quinn take me home. If you have to on your way out, throw up in your purse. You need a new one anyway.”

  Every Sunday Grandma made comments about her black handbag. As she strode toward the exit doors, she simultaneously felt flushed and chilled. They must have prayed along the way, as she made it to the car without an incident.

  Hallelujah!

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Quinn was in the middle of grading papers when Evans called. “When are you going to address Katherine for the way she spoke to Carl?” Evans asked. “He said she hasn’t called. The majority nominated you.”

  Quinn rolled his eyes. “She’s sick. Joe took her out to Chinese food last night, and it ended up being the same place that I took Miss Genesee to.”

  “You’re kidding! The Green Dragon?” Evans remembered the name. “Did you ever report them?”

  “No, I’m kicking myself now.”

  “Well, when she’s feelin
g better, have her call Carl. Hold it over her head if you have to. Tell her we need everyone in the group to be amiable with one another, and we need a resolution before Friday.”

  “Carl’s equally guilty, Evans. He didn’t let up.”

  “If she initiates, Carl will follow suit. How often is it that your fellow colleagues truly enjoy one another’s company without all the intellectual egotism? Or, as Cindy so eloquently put it, ‘without all the mumbo jumbo hoity-toity.’ We can’t let Katherine and Carl’s little romantic spats get in the way.”

  “You messed up on your matchmaking, Evans; she is sincerely not interested.”

  “I’m surprised Carl’s handled it so well, you taking her home like you did. But knowing Carl, he hasn’t forgotten. Maybe you both should apologize” were Evans’s parting words.

  Quinn made a pot of decaf coffee, graded some papers, and finally got around to calling the King residence. After two rings, Ethel picked up.

  “Ethel, it’s Quinn.”

  “She’s still sick, Quinn, and the sermon was so good. He said exactly what Katherine needed to hear. I kept thinking, I wish Katherine were here.”

  “I enjoyed it too, Ethel. How sick is she?”

  “Just horrible, and to top it off, she’s always such a baby when she’s sick. You wouldn’t believe it.”

  Poor Katherine. He’d been so sick he’d wanted to die.

  “Does Joe know?” Quinn asked.

  “I doubt very much if she’s called him. She’s not very sociable right now.”

  “What’s his number? I’ll call him.” He was curious if Joe had also been poisoned.

  “It’s somewhere on one of these notes. Wait a second, she wrote several numbers all on one sticky note. I need my magnifying glass to read it. Her print is so tiny. Hold on.” A slight thud followed as Ethel set the phone down. “Oh, where is it?” she mumbled before picking up the receiver. “When she doesn’t want me to read something, she writes in itty-bitty flea-sized print. I almost need Edwin’s old binoculars, not a magnifier.”

  Ethel was unusually chatty, maybe because she didn’t have Katherine to converse with.

  Quinn dialed Joe’s number, leaned back against the oak desk in his living room, and surveyed the front room. A heaping pile of polo shirts on the ironing board was a permanent fixture. He often had good intentions, but rarely followed through. There were always other far more exciting distractions.

  “Hi, Joe. This is Quinn Benton—Katherine’s US history professor slash chauffeur driver.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence.

  “Hey,” Joe finally said.

  “Katherine’s sick. I just spoke with Ethel, her grandma.”

  “How sick?”

  “Ethel said she’s horribly sick. Definitely food poisoning. I thought one of us should drop by some ginger ale. It helped me a lot a while back.”

  “Tell her I’m sorry she’s sick. I have a private tennis lesson at three.”

  It didn’t sound like Joe planned to stop by and play caregiver. Maybe Joe and Katherine’s friendship was platonic. Maybe she was telling the truth.

  “Do you have any symptoms yet?”

  “No.”

  “Then we’ve narrowed it down to the fried rice.”

  Quinn couldn’t help recalling the two of them on Joe’s motorcycle as they waited for the light to turn green. Chummy, if not intimate. Hmm… they’d just been chummy.

  A half hour later, Quinn stopped by Ethel’s place. He carried two liters of ginger ale to the back door, one under each arm. He told himself it was the least he could do for not putting 541 North Main and The Green Dragon together earlier.

  “You just can’t get enough of us.” Ethel giggled, opening the door wide.

  The kettle was already on. Quinn set the ginger ale on the counter and returned to sit in his usual chair by the door. “How’s the patient?”

  “She’s mad at you.” Ethel set down a tray with a jar of Folgers instant coffee, an assortment of teas, a sugar bowl, and spoons.

  Quinn should have expected an unreasonable woman like Katherine to blame him, instead of The Green Dragon, for her bout of food poisoning.

  “She said if you had simply reported your case of food poisoning to the proper authorities, this never would have happened.”

  Katherine did have a point.

  “And she’s mad that you didn’t announce it to the whole restaurant last night. She said they deserved a little bad press.”

  Katherine was indeed upset.

  “Do you know Joe calls her Kate?” he asked.

  “Yes. He does it to irritate her.” Ethel sighed. “She keeps saying ‘I want to die.’ When the time comes, I don’t know how she’ll ever get through childbearing. You should see her with the little kids at church. She just loves them. But, if she ever marries and has to go through labor, her poor husband.”

  Quinn couldn’t agree more.

  “Is she better?” He nodded to the living room.

  “She won’t come out of the bathroom.”

  “I’m sorry, Ethel, I won’t stay long. I have papers to grade, ironing—”

  “How much ironing?”

  Ethel almost acted like she liked it.

  “An overwhelming and expansive, mortifying amount.”

  “I do, too.” Her eyes brightened. “A girlfriend and I once had an ironing party. We both set ironing boards up in my living room and had the babies in their playpens. We gabbed all afternoon, and then her husband’s job moved to Spokane.” Her shoulders sank. “That was the one time I really had a good time ironing. It’s kind of like bingo, so mindless.”

  He nodded and recalled how Katherine had laughed at him for wearing an apron.

  “Thank you for the tea, Ethel. I want to apologize to Katherine while I’m here.”

  Ethel nodded. “She’s in the bathroom.”

  Feeling brave, he marched through the living room and knocked firmly on the bathroom door. “Katherine, it’s Benton. I mean Mr. Benton.”

  “Go away.”

  He stared at the white-painted, solid wood door and knew he should have foreseen this. Yet, he couldn’t help feeling surprised. Sylvia, his ex-fiancée, had been such a peacemaker. Maybe that’s why she’d moved before she’d officially broken off their engagement. He’d deemed it so cowardly of her. He often reasoned that maybe she loved him enough that she knew she wouldn’t be able to break up with him in person. But he knew better; she simply had no backbone for conflict.

  “I brought you some ginger ale. When you’re feeling a little better, try taking small sips.”

  “Thank you. Don’t come in.”

  “Of course, I won’t.”

  “Good.”

  He placed a hand on the molding. “I called Joe. He’s fine. It’s definitely the fried rice. You’re the third person to confirm it. Joe said to tell you he’s sorry.”

  “Will you report them, please?”

  “Yes. I’ll call The Green Dragon today. Tomorrow, I’ll call the authorities. They aren’t open on Sundays.”

  “Thank you. Now, go away—I don’t want you to hear me.”

  He understood now. Katherine’s earlier “‘go away’” request had not been rude; it made complete and perfect sense.

  “If it’s any consolation, Katherine, I wanted to die, too.”

  “Go away, Mr. Benton.”

  He took her advice.

  “I’m sorry she’s so rude.” Ethel was still seated in her chair at the table.

  “Her reaction is entirely understandable,” he said on his way to the door.

  “I’m glad you understand her. Do you know she didn’t get her paper done?”

  He paused mid-stride. “I told her to work on it last night.” He paused with his hand on the knob. This was not good news for him or Katherine.

  “When she got home last night, she went to bed. She’s not used to staying up so late on Friday nights yet. Is it true that you’ll knock her down a grade for turning it i
n late?”

  He frowned. “Not with her extenuating circumstances.”

  “She has a doctor as her witness.”

  “Tell her I’ll give her until Tuesday.”

  “Thank you, Quinn; you’re a good friend to us both.”

  He stopped halfway to his car. Did he foreget something? He’d brought in the ginger ale; was there something else he intended to do while he was here?

  During his short drive home, Ethel’s comments bothered him. You’re a good friend to us both. Today, for some strange reason, he’d gone to the Kings to see Katherine, and he hadn’t been able to see her. The antagonism between them pumped blood a little faster through his veins. His blood felt a little sluggish at the moment.

  Needing to be mindless, Quinn ironed two shirts and stared at his mobile phone on the corner of the coffee table. He’d call Claire, also known as Miss Palouse. They were both very open with each other. With Claire, Quinn had shared the ongoing saga of his blind dates, Katherine joining the professors’ group, Carl’s interest in her, having to drive Katherine home, Ethel’s visit to his office, and later when she’d asked him over for meatloaf.

  Had it been only yesterday when he’d stood on the corner of Main and Sixth Street and seen Katherine on the back of Joe’s bike? For a brief second, he’d been concerned about Carl’s reaction. But Carl had been fine. Carl had chuckled. In retrospect, it had strangely been Quinn who’d fought the tight constriction in his chest and shortness of breath at the sight of Katherine’s arms around Joe.

  He unplugged the iron and dialed Claire’s number.

  “Claire, it’s Quinn.”

  “Quinn.” He sensed her smile on the other end of the line.

  “I need to talk.”

  “About Miss A-nnoying?”

  How had she known? He sighed.

  “It’s only a twenty-five-minute drive from Moscow to Palouse. I’d like to visit this evening if it’s all right.”

  “My brother and his wife are visiting from Coeur d’Alene. They’ll be here at six, but I can talk while I’m preparing dinner.”