“No.” She shook her head.
“Oh, you should,” Evans said. “It’s in the old Nobby Inn on Main Street.”
“We were seated near the front windows. There’re three to four tables in that section, and just prior to calling you, Carl made the mistake of asking customers at neighboring tables where the best place in town is to take a girl to coffee.”
“He didn’t?” Katherine closed her eyes.
“He did. And the majority opinion was Bucer’s is best,” Evans said.
“The rest is history,” Benton said.
Katherine rubbed her forehead. “But I’d already told him no.”
“Yes, but you were the first woman EVER to rebuff Carl three times,” Evans said. “He was feeling very lucky, probably due to the eagle he had on fifteen.”
“What were your excuses again?” Though Benton turned toward her, he focused on the view out her passenger window, and the pastoral landscape. Towering green hills rolled off into the brilliant blue sky. “Something about eleven reasons.”
“Nine of them were in reference to my credit load.”
“What were the other two?”
Her heart felt tangled. Did Benton want to know for Carl or simply the group? “Carl calling me with an audience was one of them.” She cleared her throat. “And you know very well I ended up using Joe as an excuse. Carl wouldn’t accept no for an answer.”
“You have time every Friday night for the professors’ group. Long stretches, not study breaks,” Benton said. “Your excuse doesn’t fly. Carl’s seen it firsthand. Joe knows it, too.”
Remain calm. Miss Palouse, the smart woman that she was, rejected him, and he was taking it out on her.
“After Joe, I decided I wouldn’t date again until I’ve completed my master’s. It was too much of a juggling act for me.” Like they had a mind of their own, her fingertips tapped together beneath her chin. She picked up the highlighter and gripped the edge of the book with her free hand. “Men are time monsters. That’s what my experience in relationships has been.”
“Your conclusion is based on one relationship, years ago. And I just realized that you do the little silent clapping thing because you’re nervous.” He chuckled softly. “You do not like talking about this.”
The conversation almost made her feel carsick.
“And your point?” If she’d been Miss Palouse, she would have canceled too.
“We may meet to discuss my dates, Katherine, but if you haven’t noticed, I’m not the only one being discussed.”
Evans was behind all this, constantly trying to set her up with Carl and hiding her Joe List. Katherine watched him in the rearview mirror.
“It’s called group therapy,” Evans said, without taking his eyes off the road. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent young woman in the season of life in which it’s only natural to begin your search for a lifelong mate.”
Heat bottlenecked in her cheeks. She should be in the library right now accomplishing the mountain of work ahead of her. Katherine uncapped her highlighter and scanned the textbook. Where had she left off?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Upstairs, on the second floor of Colfax Antiques, Katherine helped Cindy move an assortment of knickknacks and a wire birdcage from a farmhouse table to a neighboring desk. Next, they draped a gold-colored tablecloth on top, and Cindy set five blue-and-white place settings in the middle of the table. From a picnic basket, she produced more fine china, candles, and long wooden matches.
“This is our first date,” Evans said. He carried three plates to the far end of the table, several feet away.
“Yes, and it’s a double date.” Cindy returned the place settings to the center of the table.
“Except Katherine has two fellows; you only get one.” Evans again picked up the place settings.
“Katherine, Carl, and I will take our food downstairs.” Benton motioned for Evans to hand him the plates. “I saw a table when we first entered, and as far as we’re concerned, tonight is a get-together—not a date.”
“You’re staying right here.” Cindy struck a match and lit two tall candlesticks.
“Would you please leave?” Picking up a Jim Croce album, Evans peered at them over the top of his wire spectacles. “For two years, my objective has been to get this woman in a romantic setting alone.”
“What happened to the theme of trying to cheer Benton up?” Katherine asked, uncomfortable with the atmosphere shift.
“He’s not at home stewing and feeling sorry for himself. Now, everyone needs to make the most of it,” Evans said.
Benton carried plates and votives while Katherine grabbed their drinks and the remaining contents of the Taco Time bag. With his back to them, Evans plugged in a ‘fifties wooden stereo cabinet.
“I’m sorry, the evening’s not turning out as planned,” Benton said as they descended the stairs.
“I guess we’ll just have to make the most of it.” She tried to ignore the feeling of being framed.
“That was quite diplomatic of you, Katherine.”
She followed him to a dimly lit nook area to the right of the stairs. A collection of dessert-sized plates, oil lamps, and a variety of salt-and-pepper shakers cluttered a round oak table. If she inhaled too deeply, there was the hint of dust. He lit a votive candle, illuminating a nearby baby buggy filled with patchwork quilts.
“Miss Colfax doesn’t want us turning on the lights on the main floor. People start calling her home. It’s a small town,” Benton said.
“Hopefully, Miss Colfax alerted the police that there will be candlelight tonight inside her store.”
He chuckled. “We wouldn’t want that kind of press.”
“No, we wouldn’t.” Katherine’s mind drifted to the headlines: U of I Professor and his Female Student Caught After Hours in Local Candle-lit Antique Store.
Jim Croce music filtered down from the open loft. They set the oil lamps on a nearby buffet and cleared a trail through the middle of the table. Crud, it was romantic. The situation wasn’t Benton’s fault. It was Carl’s more than anyone’s. Still, she was glad he was running late.
Benton dove into his chimichanga with a plastic knife and fork, while Katherine’s hard- shell ninety-nine cent taco crumbled on the first bite; a chunk of shell ended in her lap. How embarrassing, it felt like a date. No, if it were a date, one of them would be trying to fill the uncomfortable silence that had dredged on between them for the last five minutes.
“I’m sorry, Katherine.” Benton glanced at her. “Cheering me up was supposed to be a group effort. I wonder what’s taking Carl so long?”
“It almost feels like they’re trying to set us up.”
“No, Evans is trying to set you up with Carl. I’ve overheard him on several occasions.”
His response was a solid reminder for her not to read anything into the situation. “Are you up for talking about Claire?”
“No.”
She took a sip of iced tea. “Evans said this is the second time she’s canceled.”
“As you know, my father is a plumber; water heater issues are common in the summer months.”
“She’s canceled on you twice. Could Claire be stringing you along for some reason?”
Setting an elbow on the table, he dangled his plastic fork and looked at her through the cleared clutter. “She’s caring, nurturing, very down-to-earth, honest. What could possibly be her motive?”
“She sounds wonderful.” Katherine shrugged. “Perhaps it simply hasn’t worked out.”
“She is wonderful.” He sank his fork into the chimichanga.
Jim Croce’s music “Time in a bottle” drifted down from upstairs. A collection of old glass bottles was on display across the aisle. She and Benton didn’t belong here alone.
“I hope they have more records than this one.” The setting, the music, the good-looking man across the table from her were all factors that culminated toward romance, except he was thinking and talking about Claire.
She nodded and took the final bite of her taco.
“You should call Miss Palouse.” She gripped her hands beneath the table. “And tell her where we are. I mean, you are. See if Claire will meet you here. It would be a very romantic first date.”
He shook his head. “She hasn’t had the most blissful afternoon.”
“Meeting you may change her outlook on the day.”
“You must be uncomfortable to be so congenial.”
“I am.” He’d pegged her well. “Aren’t you?”
“No.” He wadded his straw wrapper to the size of a spit wad, tossed it toward the open Taco Time bag, and missed. “I like you this way.”
“Uncomfortable?” Avoiding his gaze, she peered about the cluttered nook.
“Maybe it’s your penitent mode. I’ve come to the decision that I should meet Miss Palouse before I schedule any more blind dates.”
“Does Miss Palouse want children?”
“We’ve talked about children, and she’s hesitant, but some people are until they know they’ve met the right person.” He half grinned. “Look at us, conversing like two normal people.”
Her hands were clammy. She slid them under her knees and pretended interest in the dark corners of the nook, anywhere besides his eyes. Using a paper napkin, he dabbed at his mouth.
He crumpled up the Taco Time bag. “Do you have siblings?”
“Yes, I’m the middle of five, and the only one not married. That worries my parents, and Grandma, at times. What about you?”
“Oldest, with one younger, married sister. The beautician.” His smile was steady. He glanced from her eyes to her mouth.
A tugboat-sized docking knot formed in her gut. Had they ever been alone before—looking at each other? Where was Carl?
“You should call Claire.”
“I’ve already called her today.”
“You called her hours ago.”
He peered at his wristwatch. “It was only three hours ago that I bugged her.”
“You just finished telling me how wonderful Claire is—and now you’re ready to give up so easily. A girl doesn’t mind being bugged twice if it’s the right guy.”
He sighed and flipped open his phone.
For Benton’s sake, she hoped he was the right guy.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Benton held down one digit on his phone, because, of course, he had Miss Palouse on speed dial. “Claire, it’s Quinn.” He pushed his chair back from the table, rose, and walked toward the front windows. “I’m at Miss Colfax’s antique store. Yes. Evans rented the building for his first date with Cindy.” He sounded relaxed, at ease, like they indeed held a special bond.
Katherine uncapped her highlighter and pretended interest in her boring old history book.
“I was wondering if you’ve recuperated enough to meet me here? There’s an ambiance to the place.” Benton’s gaze traveled about the expansive room, toward the glass display counters that lined the main aisle. “I think it would prove a great way for us to finally meet. Yes, Katherine is here, and Carl’s on his way.”
Miss Palouse knew about her? He’d probably told her about the B paper, and what a fool she’d made of herself. Katherine wouldn’t let her mind return to her phone cord visit to his office.
A hand settled on her shoulder. Startled, she jumped an inch in her chair. She looked up to see Carl’s green eyes in the candlelight.
“Who’s he talking to?” He nodded toward Benton.
“Miss Palouse,” she whispered, not wanting to miss a word.
“Sorry, I’m late. I stopped to get my car washed, and then there was road construction in the valley, on the way out of town.” Carl dove into the Taco Time bag and made thirty seconds of rustling noise during which she couldn’t hear Benton, who’d halted in the middle of the store. Katherine began to fear the worst: the woman was telling him no.
“I understand. Maybe sometime next week.”
Couldn’t Claire hear the disappointment in his voice?
On his way toward them, Benton returned his phone to his back pocket. “Claire’s exhausted. The plumbing company left an hour ago, and she took a bath and retired with a cup of cocoa.”
The woman sounded low on iron. Now it would be just the three of them for the remainder of the evening. Miss Palouse!
“Hello, Carl. You decided to finally make it.”
“Yes. I got waylaid on my way out of town. Traffic.” Carl was a quarter of the way through his burrito. “Claire is Miss Palouse, right?”
Benton nodded. In one short phone call, his eyes had gone from hopeful to flat.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Benton. If Claire had seen your disappointment, I believe she would have summoned the energy.” While Katherine had grown to care for him, he was venting about Katherine to small-town women. It was best not to think about him. Not give him another thought, never, ever again.
For the next half hour, Jim Croce music floated down from above.
“It sounds like Evans brought only one record,” Carl said.
“Yes. It used to be a favorite of mine.” Benton yawned.
Over her shoulder, Katherine studied the dimly lit, high-ceilinged room. Street lamps illuminated the outline of merchandise in the front of the store: kerosene lamps on a dresser, a kitchen queen, a few high-backed chairs—if she had to, she could study someplace else.
“I asked her out twice in one night.” Benton frowned. “I’m getting as bad as you, Carl.”
All he could think about was Miss Palouse.
“Determined is a better word for it, and I doubt it, Benton. I asked Katherine out four times in one phone call, didn’t I?”
She nodded and managed a sympathetic smile in his direction.
Benton flung an arm over the back of his chair. “Katherine appears very favorable in this light. Don’t you agree, Carl?”
She cast Benton a look that read, Don’t encourage him. “I hope you’re not rebounding, Mr. Benton,” she said in jest.
“I’m not.” He grinned.
She continued to feel uncomfortable under his gaze. “Should you suddenly find me unusually attractive and be drawn to me in a way you’ve never been before, please warn me.”
“You sound like an expert.” Carl chuckled.
“I am. I’ve gone through approximately twelve of Joe’s breakups, and the rebound period that inevitably follows. He doesn’t understand that the emptiness of being alone is an ache only God can fill.” She glanced at her books. Maybe now was a good time to escape with her flashlight.
Benton scratched behind one ear. “Carl, Evans said I owe you an apology for the other night—for my getaway scene with Katherine. It wasn’t planned. It’s because of Ethel, Katherine’s grandmother, that I found myself feeling personally—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Leaning back in his chair, Carl turned his attention to Katherine.
It was her turn to apologize for her abruptness on the phone: her eleven-reasons remark, her lack of sensitivity, hanging up on him.
“Katherine, I’ve given your dating question some thought this week.” Carl glanced at Benton. “When we were standing in Evans’s driveway studying the stars, I asked Katherine what question she’s wanted to be asked but hasn’t been.”
“Oh . . .” Benton’s brows rose.
“Her question was . . . ‘If you could be a journalist in any American war, which would it be?’ And I apologize, Katherine; my answer was a discredit to my profession. It was one thirty in the morning. I’d been grading exams all afternoon and well, why don’t we try another crack at it?”
“Okay.” She nodded. “If you could have been a journalist in any American war, Carl, which war would you choose and why?”
“Without a doubt, World War I. It was what I based my thesis on for my master’s. It was our first international war after becoming a world super-power, and it set the precedent for. . . .” Carl’s intelligent answer took up the ne
xt ten minutes.
Katherine waited for him to ask her the very same question.
He dabbed a moistened finger on the crumbs of his cherry empanada wrapper. “I also wanted to tell you something that you’ve probably already heard from Benton, and maybe Evans.” Facing, her, Carl crossed his arms on top of the table. “I’ve done my share of dating in the past year. I’ve dated some women, who for the most part have fit Evans’s label of ‘Sweet and Low.’”
Right in front of Benton, Carl was making his move.
“Evans was right. The more I’m around you, the more I appreciate your wit, your intellect. Even the way you rejected me last Saturday kept me in the game.” He grinned. “Do you remember what you said?”
Carl was buttering her up to slide her into a preheated pan. Come to my rescue, Benton. Do something. Or maybe she should employ her own brain.
“I . . . now have eleven reasons.” Was he finding a roundabout way for her to preface her apology?
A faint knocking sound echoed from the hallway. They all paused to listen.
“Are we expecting anyone?” Carl asked. “The door is unlocked, whoever it is.”
Katherine met Benton’s gaze across the table and suppressed a smile. At least a half hour had passed since his phone call with Miss Palouse. Could she have possibly taken him up on his offer?
The knocking continued. “It could be Miss Colfax checking in on Evans,” Benton said.
In the dark of an early summer evening, in an antique store, they supposedly had to themselves, who would be knocking?
“Where are you Benton, Katherine?” Holding a candlestick, Evans stood near the top of the stairs. “Someone’s at the door,” he bellowed. “Are you two alive?”
“Three.” Benton moved to the aisle. “Carl’s here now. I’ll get it. It’s probably Miss Colfax.”
“Good. If it is her, invite her in for a piece of cake.”
“She’s probably here to tally our finds.” Instead of staying alone at the table with Carl, Katherine followed Quinn to the door.
Wouldn’t Miss Colfax have a key? Or was she simply being polite in knocking, as the building was rented for the evening?
Sticky Notes - A clean romance (Ethel King Series Book 1) Page 19
