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

by Sherri Schoenborn Murray

  “Noralee, it’s Ethel King. You may remember me best as Ethel Pettigrew from Moscow High School.”

  “Hi, Ethel, yes, I remember. I saw a brown ribbon on your baked goods at the fair last year.”

  It was just like Noralee to boast about other people’s eighth-place finishes. Ethel’s eyes narrowed. I’ll show her.

  “I was wondering if you were still alive,” Noralee said. “So many of us have passed on, you know.”

  “Too many of us, Noralee. The reason I’m calling is, I was wondering if you’re familiar with a woman who lives in the same town as you. Her name is Claire Westin.” Ethel stretched the phone cord outside, so she didn’t have to stand in the stuffy phone booth any longer.

  “Yes. Palouse is a small town, and Claire is a big woman.”

  “How big?” Ethel asked.

  “She’s currently the county clerk, with her sights on running for mayor this fall. I was at the beauty parlor last Thursday and saw one of her posters in the window. Did you hear about Ed Burright? He was in our graduating class. Within a week of his wife Margaret’s funeral, he married her first cousin.”

  “No, that’s too bad.”

  “That’s how so many elderly men are. Can’t be alone more than a week. Did you hear—”

  Ethel cleared her throat. “Noralee, are you going to vote for Claire Westin?”

  “Of course. I don’t know if Ronald Reagan himself could beat her, at least among the voters of Palouse. Why, Ethel? Are you working for the paper?”

  “No.” Noralee had never been someone to share a secret with. “I’m just doing a little research for a friend. If you go to the fair this year, I usually sit at one of the round tables near the baked goods area.”

  “My daughter, Jill, and I go every summer. I’ll look for you.”

  Ethel went inside the gas station to ask directions. An elderly man sat on a stool behind the counter, snoring. The name tag on the front of his coveralls read Burt. She tapped the smudged glass counter and hoped he was a light sleeper.

  Burt blinked several times, yawned, and then scratched his balding head.

  “Where’s the beauty parlor in town?”

  His eyes scanned Ethel’s wide hat. “Somewhere in that block.” He nodded across the street.

  Half of working in a garage was giving people directions. He’d probably lived in this one-street town all his life and couldn’t tell a person where the beauty parlor was. If she had a mind to, she’d report his sleeping on the job to his boss. Ethel read the signs in the window of the garage as she strolled past. “Burt’s Garage—serving you since 1958.”

  It should read: “Sleeping on the job since 1958.”

  Shaking her head, Ethel gripped her purse closer to her. Curious about Quinn’s future bride, she walked across the street and past several storefronts. A tavern, an antique store, and then Fran’s Beauty Parlor. Just like Noralee had said, a colorful, fancy poster was Scotch-taped to the glass. Sunlight danced on the window reflecting the outline of her straw hat. She narrowed her gaze.

  The caption read: “Vote for Claire Westin or be run out of town.” From the waist up, the photo pictured a woman pert near as buxom as Dolly Parton. Hands on hips, she wore a long-sleeved cowboy shirt and a Stetson hat. Her hair was as blonde and as fake as Marilyn Monroe’s. Mouth agape, Ethel stared. The woman was, at least, fifty-some-years-old, maybe even past childbearing years.

  For all Quinn knew, his Claire Westin might already be a grandmother.

  Ж

  Quinn knocked on the Kings’ back door. While he waited, he noticed Ethel’s car wasn’t parked in the gravel drive. Maybe Katherine hadn’t heard his knock. He’d give her twenty more seconds, and if she didn’t answer the door, he’d go home and start dinner. He was starving.

  Dressed in a tank top and shorts, Katherine answered the door. Her hair was down, her face pale, her eyes appeared larger than he remembered, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there were tears in her lashes. She’d lost ten pounds overnight.

  “I’m sorry, Katherine.” He nodded toward the detached garage. “I didn’t see that Ethel’s car wasn’t here until after I knocked.”

  “She just called. She’s at Tidyman’s. Do you know she’s been gone all day?” Katherine left the door open and walked ahead of him through the kitchen.

  “No. She dropped your paper by early this morning before class. That is a long day for her. Is it all right if I grab something to eat?”

  “Make yourself at home.” She waved a hand.

  While she turned off the TV in the other room, he opened a loaf of bread that was on the counter next to the boxes of breakfast cereal. From there, he knew which cupboard harbored the peanut butter.

  “Looks like you’re on the mend,” he said loudly.

  “I’ve even been able to keep down a piece of toast.”

  He folded the sandwich in half and entered the living area. Katherine was lying down on the sofa. At first, all he saw of her was her long, lean legs. Turning, he went back to the kitchen. He’d, uh . . . pour himself a glass of milk. They were just legs, and they just happened to belong to Katherine King, also known as Miss Annoying. He gulped the milk, squared his shoulders, rolled a kink out of his neck, and returned to the living room.

  A blanket now covered her legs. Thank You, Lord. He sat down in the La-Z-Boy recliner.

  “Do you know where Grandma went today?” With her hands held prayer-like between her cheek and the scratchy green sofa pillow, she gazed up at him.

  “No, but she told me she had exciting news to share.” He set the glass of milk on the end table that serviced both the couch and the recliner. “I’ve been curious all day.”

  “Exciting could mean a number of things in Grandma’s mind.” Katherine’s eyes took on a faint sparkle.

  “Such as?” He raised his brows in between bites.

  “She may have learned a new word to use up Q’s and X’s in Scrabble. Exciting to Grandma does not mean the same thing that it means to our generation.”

  He suppressed a smile. When he’d seen Ethel earlier in the day, there had been unusual energy in her eyes. “You underestimate her.”

  “Grandma didn’t say anything about it to me when she called. So I dare to say that it’s probably a three, maybe a four at the most on the exciting scale.”

  “I believe you’re wrong, but because you’re still pale, I won’t argue with you.”

  “I’m feeling one hundred percent better than last night.”

  He nodded. Food poisoning was a powerful body-racking experience. He downed his last bite. “Do you think you’re up for apologizing to Carl?”

  “I’ll take a rain check. Just the idea makes me feel a bit queasy.” She rolled to her back and flung an elbow across her forehead.

  Quinn leaned back and fished his phone from his pocket. Pressing firmly on the five, he speed-dialed Carl’s mobile number. It immediately went to recording. He waited until after the beep. “Carl, it’s Quinn. The reason Katherine hasn’t apologized yet is she’s been ill. Believe it or not, her old boyfriend, Joe, took her to the same Chinese food restaurant that I took Miss Genesee to several weeks back. We’ve determined it’s the fried rice. She appears to be on the mend. So in the next day or two, you should expect to receive an apology from her. See you Friday night.” He flipped the phone closed and turned off the power. Carl might call back, and then he’d have to explain that he was alone with Katherine waiting for Ethel’s return. It was complicated.

  “What if I don’t feel apologetic in the next couple of days?” She held her hands beneath her chest, her diaphragm filling with air. “Carl’s the one who owes me an apology—asking me out in front of an audience, and being so insistent.”

  Katherine King was definitely feeling better. He shimmied his shoulders into the recliner and closed his eyes. Tidyman’s was a large grocery store. He wondered if Ethel were a daily, weekly, or monthly shopper.

  “But then again, Carl is very good looking, and he ma
y not have had many women decline him before.”

  Her soft tone surprised him. He opened one eye to look at her.

  The phone rang. “Do you want me to get that?” he asked.

  “I can,” she said, rising from the couch. “Carl and I could have lengthy discussions regarding how the United States rose to be a world super-power, the Cold War, US foreign policy . . .” She hurried around the far side of the coffee table. “Not that sharing history is enough to sustain a relationship, but I suppose it’s a start.” On the fourth ring, she picked it up. “Hello.”

  She’d never posted any real interest in Carl before. Was she entertaining the idea of going out with him? Was Carl right for her? Quinn’s blood not only pumped faster—it coursed through his veins like Niagara Falls.

  “Hi, Angel.”

  Crud. Angel LeFave—it was a good thing he hadn’t answered the phone.

  “I’m recovering from a terrible case of food poisoning. Joe and I went—yes, Joe, my ex, we went to Chinese on Saturday, and I’ve felt terrible ever since.—No, Joe wanted me to give him my opinion regarding the waitress. We’re just friends.—The Green Dragon. Yes, never go there.”

  Quinn smiled. Eavesdropping on Katherine was fascinating.

  “Tell him you’re making him an extra-special dinner, and unveil a can of chili.”

  What was she going on about now?

  “You’re kidding. Did he see you?” Katherine’s became more animated as she turned to face the room.

  “You’re kidding? Oh, I’m sure he was just being polite. Yeah, I’ll be back Wednesday.”

  Katherine returned to the couch. “That was Angel LeFave. She said she saw you at a traffic light Saturday night at one thirty in the morning and that you waved.”

  “So she didn’t see you?” He suppressed a chuckle.

  “No. Praise God.”

  He couldn’t agree more. “I heard something about chili?”

  “Angel and her boyfriend are celebrating their four-month anniversary soon, and I was giving her ideas.”

  “You sound like a romantic.” He grinned.

  “There’s more to it that you don’t need to know.” Her chin lifted.

  “You were going on about Carl before you answered the phone. And in case you didn’t know, in the past year, he’s dated and liked, at least, six women, none of them very bright. Not like you.”

  “Six?” Her jaw dropped. The floor lamp highlighted the freckles that were sprinkled across her upper cheeks.

  Katherine King was down-to-earth gorgeous, and if he paused to reflect on it, what good would it do him?

  “Yes, he’s dated and liked six different women in one year’s time.” He stared at the white mantle above the empty fireplace to the left of the front door. His chest tightened. Being alone with Katherine when she wasn’t quite her annoying self might not be such a good idea.

  “Six women!”

  He nodded. “Carl likes the chase better than the catch. Maybe this pattern is because he hasn’t been very smart about the women he’s pursued. To be fair, perhaps he’s reached a point in his dating that he’ll appreciate you . . .” Quinn cleared his throat. “I mean, you are a graduate student.”

  “Finally!” She huffed. “A little insider information. I sensed that you and Evans were not telling me the entire truth about him.” She flopped back into the pillow. She’d exhausted herself and lay quiet for a moment—a rarity.

  “Evans and Carl are close. I’m able to be less subjective.”

  He opened one eye and glanced at her. God forbid, Katherine was beautiful, especially when she wasn’t talking. He powered his phone and checked to see if Carl had tried to call.

  “How was your day, Mr. Benton?” she asked.

  “It started off on a particularly good note with your grandma’s brief visit to my office.”

  “Did she wear her gardening hat inside the building again?” Katherine scrunched up her nose.

  “Yes.” He grinned.

  “I don’t know why she wears it around town.”

  “It adds character.” He smiled. “Yesterday afternoon, I called The Green Dragon and informed them that three people I know have experienced food poisoning and that I was going to have to report them. I also told them it was the fried rice.”

  “What’d they say?”

  “The woman was very apologetic. When I reported it to the Better Business Bureau today, they said another case was reported last week.”

  “Thank you. I was afraid you’d forgotten.”

  He chuckled, surprised by her pleasantness. Maybe it was because Katherine was in a weakened state, but strangely enough, the two of them were talking and getting along.

  The back door creaked open. Ethel was home. She probably needed help with groceries. He pulled the side lever, returning the chair to its upright position.

  “I remembered to buy sticky notes,” Ethel said loudly from the kitchen.

  Quinn chuckled. Was that all she’d purchased at Tidyman’s?

  “That’s probably her exciting news,” Katherine whispered.

  “No, definitely not.”

  “I bet it is.” Brows lifted, she nodded.

  “It’s something far more substantial.”

  “Maybe, but I bet it isn’t.”

  Would a freckle ever go away once it was a freckle? He liked Katherine’s freckles. Why had he never noticed them before?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  After much consideration about what to make for dinner, Ethel had purchased a rotisserie chicken, a loaf of crusty French bread, and a package of Caesar salad that you just tossed together in a bowl. She took the plastic lid off the rotisserie chicken so its aroma filled her little kitchen before she asked Quinn if he’d like to stay for dinner. Of course, he said yes.

  “What’s your exciting news, Ethel?” Using a carving knife, Quinn sliced the chicken. “Or would you prefer to tell Katherine and me while we’re seated at the table?”

  “Over dinner would be best.” The salad was tossed; she just needed to pour three glasses of milk. “Katherine, honey, are you up for sitting with us in here?” If she wasn’t, Ethel had already decided she’d plead for her to join them.

  “I’ll see how it goes.” Her granddaughter ambled in with a blanket wrapped around her mid-section. “You got your hair done.”

  “Yes. I had the gal take an inch off.” Ethel patted near her ear.

  “It looks nice,” Quinn said.

  Once they were all seated, Ethel held out her hands and gripped both Quinn’s and Katherine’s, one on each side of her. Saying the Lord’s Prayer together always proved powerful. Afterward, she buttered a slice of bread.

  “Where’d you get your hair cut?” Leaning her head to one side, Katherine studied her.

  “At a beauty parlor.” Ethel wasn’t about to tell her at Fran’s Beauty Parlor in Palouse.

  “You’re awfully vague, Grandma. I meant what beauty parlor?”

  Without looking Katherine’s direction, Ethel kicked her shin beneath the table. “You know, the one with the sign out front.”

  Eyes narrowed, Katherine cast her a look that read, “I don’t know.”

  “It looks nice.” Using the tongs, Quinn transferred the salad to his plate.

  “What color of sticky notes did you get, Grandma?” Katherine asked, glancing from her to Quinn.

  “It was a difficult decision for me today. I spent quite a bit of time choosing between my two favorite colors: yellow and the neon pink. I finally decided that I like yellow best. The neon pink can be a tad dark, especially when one writes in pencil. None of the other colors are even in the running.”

  The chicken was tender and moist, with good flavor. Both Katherine and Quinn took a leg. It was nice that there were two legs on a chicken, so they didn’t have to fight over them. They fought about everything else.

  “You said you had some exciting news.” Quinn lifted the drumstick to his mouth.

  “Yes, before I forget. Is i
t ala mater or alma mater?”

  Katherine’s jaw moved, but Quinn beat her to it. “Alma mater.”

  “What does it mean?” Ethel asked.

  “It’s Latin for fostering mother.” This time, Katherine beat Quinn.

  “Or nurturing mother,” Quinn added.

  Ethel smiled at Katherine. “The U of I is your alma mater, and so am I.”

  While Katherine’s head bobbed back and forth, Quinn smiled. He was always so good about smiling at the appropriate times.

  “Does alma mater play into your exciting news?” Quinn asked, gently trying to remind her.

  “Yes.” Ethel nodded. For a moment, she caught her breath. She’d decided during her drive home from Palouse that she wouldn’t tell Quinn about Miss Palouse. This coming Friday he’d finally meet her. Maybe he already knew that Claire was older. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe having his own biological children wasn’t important to him. They could always adopt, or get a dog.

  “Do you remember what it was, Grandma?” Katherine patted her left hand.

  “Yes, of course, I do.” Though Katherine’s tone had been soft and rather sweet, in her own way she was implying that Ethel had forgotten. How could someone forget exciting news?

  Ethel wiped her hands on her paper napkin. “I drove to the Admin Building this morning to pay my parking ticket. And just like before, but worse, this time, there were no available spaces. I drove around and around, and as you both are probably aware, there is not enough parking to begin with up there.”

  “It’s an ongoing problem.” Quinn nodded.

  “After I finally found a space, I felt certain that my hair had gone completely gray; I even checked the flip-down mirror.”

  He smiled and appeared to only admire her eyes.

  “Where were you all day?” Katherine asked. “I called Aunt Gladys. She didn’t know. I called Sandra and Sharon. I was just about to call the police when you called from Tidyman’s.”

  “I was busy getting my hair done,” Ethel said and smiled at Quinn.

  “It doesn’t take all day to take off an inch. They didn’t even curl it.”