Elusive Mr. Perfect Read online

  Joelle felt her heart leap in fear. “You didn’t tell him about that, did you?”

  “About my ad? Of course not.” His eyebrows shot up. “You mean to say, he doesn’t already know?”

  She shook her head with force, though not enough to disturb her waxed curls.

  “In that case, I feel sorry for every guy that crosses your threshold.” His lips twisted. “I wasn’t expecting to meet parents. Aren’t you a little old to still be living at home?”

  She bristled. “I don’t think so.” Already on the defensive, she wasn’t about to share her life story with Lloyd. Joelle made no further comment as she watched Lloyd stride to his side of his new car, a model she didn’t recognize, without opening the door for her.

  Dean would have opened the door for me.

  Forcing the unwelcome thought from her mind, Joelle slid into the passenger seat, wondering what to say next. She needn’t have worried.

  “I must say, you look quite lovely. Even better than you described yourself.”

  His compliment caused Joelle to soften her stance. “I’m glad I didn’t disappoint.”

  “You didn’t. Trust me on that. But I had hoped you would appear in something a little more dressy, a little more upscale.”

  “Oh?” Joelle noticed he was wearing a black turtleneck under a checked blazer even though the warm spring weather hardly required a coat. A twinge of embarrassment turned to irritation, though she tried to keep her voice sweet. “Why didn’t you say something? I would have changed.”

  He shrugged. “Never mind. I’m sure they’ll let us in.”

  Before she could retort, he began chattering away about travel. Through a series of monologues, Lloyd relived every vacation he’d ever taken, down to the last detail. He expressed his sense of adventure in his plans to travel to Fiji, Australia, and Borneo. His enthusiasm lasted through the fifty-mile drive to Roanoke. Though she was used to more give-and-take in conversation, Joelle had to admit that hearing him talk about places she’d never seen was riveting.

  As Lloyd handed his car keys to the valet, he told her he had ordered Chateaubriand when he made the reservations. He explained, “The dish, filet mignon beef with béarnaise sauce, is usually shared by two people. Since the filet is large, the restaurant requires patrons to order Chateaubriand ahead to allow extra preparation time.”

  Joelle couldn’t help but be impressed. Obviously, Lloyd was accustomed to eating well.

  They were seated at an intimate table set with a linen tablecloth, gold-trimmed china, fine silverware, and several etched glasses. Large chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Each light bulb was covered by a small lampshade. Joelle had forgotten the month of May was prom season. High school students, dressed in colorful gowns and tuxedos, occupied several tables. Joelle wished she hadn’t chosen to wear her black pants, dressy though they were.

  Lloyd no longer seemed to mind how she was dressed. He relished taking charge, even placing her order along with his, from the first course to the last. Joelle thought perhaps she should object to Lloyd’s presumptuousness. She was debating whether or not to speak up when she realized his willingness to tend to such details left her feeling relaxed.

  Until the first course.

  Six tiny phyllo dough pastries were placed before her. She guessed the filling inside wasn’t chocolate.

  Lloyd placed his napkin in his lap. “The escargot is especially good here.”

  “Escargot?” Joelle tried to remember the meaning of the French word. “You mean, snails?”

  “Of course. The chef makes his own phyllo dough.” He lifted his fork and used it to point to the pastries. “And see how moist it looks? That’s butter. And, of course, it’s seasoned with garlic.”

  Joelle tried not to grimace.

  “What’s the matter? You don’t like escargot?” Furrowed brows signaled his disappointment.

  “To tell you the truth, I never tried it before.”

  “If you want to travel around the world, you’d better get used to sampling foods you don’t normally eat.”

  “I suppose you have a point.” With her fork, she prodded through several layers of thin pastry that reminded her of onion skin paper. Though the dough proved scrumptious, Joelle wasn’t as pleased with the warm, chewy morsel inside.

  “What do you think?”

  She swallowed. “Not much taste. It’s the same consistency as fried clams, only a little less rubbery.”

  “Fried clams? I’d expect to find that on a drugstore fountain menu.” He cringed as though she had confessed a penchant for feasting on dodo bird feathers while sitting in a pigsty. He pointed the tines of his fork at his plate. Placed decoratively upon it were thin slices of smoked salmon, trout, and pieces of pheasant on a few leaves of lettuce, sprinkled with capers and a dash of caviar. “Would you like to trade with me?”

  Regarding her snails once more, Joelle knew she’d have trouble even indulging in a second pastry. She studied his plate of untouched food. “I’m not too sure about the pheasant.” The bird looked like tuna showered with small peas.

  He flashed an amused smile. “I’ll take that, and you can have the fish.”

  “Sounds like a good deal. As long as you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not. Escargot should be eaten by one who appreciates it.”

  Joelle was thankful the rest of the meal wasn’t so daring. A house salad was followed by carrot soup seasoned with ginger, then the Chateaubriand. A smooth chocolate soufflé topped off the meal. Afterward, Joelle felt as though she had just dined at the table of King Louis XIV.

  “I’ve never eaten so much yet not felt stuffed,” Joelle observed as she placed her napkin beside her dessert plate. “The meal was excellent, Lloyd.”

  “Good.” A self-satisfied smile flashed over his face as he handed his credit card to the waiter. “There will be more of the same with me, mon cherie.”

  Wanting the experience to last a few moments longer, Joelle savored each drop of rich coffee left in her cup. She had just finished the last sumptuous sip when the waiter returned to the table and mumbled something to Lloyd as he returned the card.

  Lloyd crooked one eyebrow. “I can’t believe it.” As the waiter watched, Lloyd withdrew his wallet and fumbled through several credit cards before handing him a platinum-colored plate. “I’m so sorry. Try this one.”

  Joelle was grateful another waiter offered her more coffee, giving her a reason simply to nod rather than to speak.

  “I do apologize to you, Joelle. How embarrassing.”

  “Oh, banks make mistakes all the time.” Joelle hoped her assurances were more convincing to her date than they were to herself.

  She had almost finished her second cup of coffee when the waiter returned, his lips tightened into a severe line. Joelle knew he would tell Lloyd the second card had failed to clear. She caught the words “credit limit exceeded” from their whispered discussion.

  “I assure you, I am shocked and appalled.” Lloyd’s slack-jawed expression and shrill tone of voice matched his professed indignation. “We shall settle this. If you will give us a few moments, please.”

  Sending them a curt nod, the waiter left his side. Joelle noticed he kept a close watch on their table as he went about his other duties.

  “Joelle, again, I apologize. I have no idea why both of my platinum cards were rejected.”

  She recalled a similar incident with her own cards, so Joelle wasn’t about to judge Lloyd. “It can happen to the best of us.”

  A half-grin crossed his face. “Thank you for being so understanding. Let me assure you, those banks will be hearing from me first thing Monday morning.” Folding his arms across his expanded chest, Lloyd nodded once for emphasis.

  “So what do we do now?”

  Releasing his arms, Lloyd clenched his teeth and raised his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t happen to have any cash on you, would you?”

  Joelle remembered she had tucked an extra twenty-dollar bill in her purse in cas
e of an emergency. “Like, how much?”

  He reviewed the bill. “It’s one hundred, fifty-eight dollars and eighty cents.”

  She felt her jaw drop open in shock. “Come again?”

  “I said, one hundred, fifty-eight dollars and eighty cents.” His eyes met hers. “And, of course, a 20 percent tip is expected at a place like this. Always.”

  She wasn’t able to contain her shock, though she was careful to keep her voice barely above a whisper. “How could two people have possibly racked up such a bill?”

  Lloyd laid the receipt on the center of the table so she could see for herself:

  1 Escargot...................$ 6.95

  1 Smoked Fish............$ 7.95

  2 Soup.........................$13.90

  2 Salad.........................$11.00

  Chateaubriand.............$85.00

  Chocolate Soufflé........$ 8.95

  Raspberry Soufflé........$ 8.95

  2 Coffee.......................$ 5.00

  _____

  Total.............................$147.70

  State Tax......................$ 6.65

  City Tax.......................$ 4.45

  Grand Total.................$158.80

  “Thirty to thirty-five dollars should be a sufficient tip,” he suggested. “Why not make it one hundred and ninety dollars?”

  “Why not make it an even two hundred dollars?” Joelle couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her tone.

  “Look, I said I’m sorry. It’s not like I forced you to eat here, you know—”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  Lloyd leaned closer. “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy your meal?”

  “No, but—”

  “Besides, I’ll pay you back. I promise.” Lloyd let his spine touch his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

  Reaching into her black satin purse, Joelle was thankful she was conservative enough that her own card wasn’t maxed out. “I guess I have no other choice, unless I want to wash dishes.”

  “I said I’d pay you back.” Lloyd didn’t bother to hide his irritation. He extracted a black leather billfold from his pocket and handed her a twenty-dollar bill. “See? We haven’t even left the restaurant yet, and I’m already paying the first installment.”

  His willingness to pay even that much made Joelle wish to give him the benefit of the doubt. “All right. Thanks.”

  The ride home was hardly as chatty as the trip to the restaurant had been. Joelle tried to keep the atmosphere pleasant. She forced herself to concentrate on Matthew 5:42: “Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away.”

  The verse was still rolling in her brain when the car coasted to a stop. Reacting quickly, Lloyd managed to steer it onto the side of the road.

  “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure.” He turned the ignition, but the engine didn’t even turn over. Lloyd stared at the gauges. “Uh-oh. I must have run out of gas.”

  “Run out of gas?” Joelle felt a mixture of irritation and fear.

  “I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry,” he answered as though he really didn’t mean the apology. “Do you know how far the next gas station is?”

  “It should be a mile or two from here.”

  “Hope you enjoy walking.” Lloyd pulled the door lever to let himself out.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Sure. You can stay here by yourself.”

  “No, thanks.” Joelle looked down at her flat shoes and couldn’t resist a dig. “Looks like I was right to dress casually after all.”

  As they walked in silence, Joelle thought about how the spring night, lit by a full moon, would have been enjoyed much more had she been with the right person. . .whomever that was.

  Mr. Wrong broke the silence. “Um, I hate to impose on you further, but—well, would you mind all that much if I asked you for my twenty dollars back?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Joelle hadn’t meant to be uncharitable, but at the moment, her shock was greater than her tact. “Look, I’m sorry. Of course you can have the money.”

  He jerked the bill from her grasp. “Thanks.”

  More of Jesus’ words struck her mind. “And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain.”

  “You’re welcome,” Joelle managed as the glare of headlamps lit their backs. Turning, she noticed Dean’s car.

  Oh, no! I can’t let Dean see me like this! Bowing her head, Joelle stared at the ground just ahead of her feet. Maybe Dean wouldn’t recognize her and would drive past.

  Instead, the car slowed down and pulled over just ahead of them.

  Lloyd halted in his tracks and grabbed Joelle’s elbow, clutching it in a viselike grip. “I don’t like this. Whoever’s in that car could be some maniac, and we’re easy prey.”

  “That’s no maniac. That’s my best friend.”

  Three

  Dean squinted as his car approached a couple walking along the edge of the mountain road. He’d spotted an automobile abandoned about a half-mile back and wondered about its owners. They had to be strangers. Nobody he knew possessed such an exotic import. Dean figured the couple and the car belonged together.

  Stopping for strangers on the roadside wasn’t his habit, but the night sky threatened rain, and there was little chance they’d be able to walk to the next gas station before getting drenched. Dean knew he’d want someone to do him a similar kindness should he ever become stranded.

  Slowing to a stop, Dean recognized the woman’s lithe figure. His heart did a funny flip-flop. “Is that you, Joelle?”

  The sweet voice he could have distinguished from thousands of others answered. “It’s me.” Joelle bowed her head and stared at the ground.

  Her companion wasn’t so shy, boring a hole into Dean with his eyes. Dean’s lips tightened when he realized the tall, blond man was Joelle’s reason for cutting out of Singles’ Night. Meeting the stare of his competition, Dean didn’t note anything special. Since his fancy car broke down, maybe Joelle wouldn’t, either. He forced himself to smile as he exited his car.

  After making introductions, Joelle took her place beside Dean. Lloyd, lips curled downward in a pout, plopped himself in the backseat.

  “Did your car break down?” Dean asked.

  “Of course not,” Lloyd snapped. “It’s just out of gas.”

  The solution was obvious to Dean. Ever since his fuel gauge became stuck on the halfway mark a couple of years ago, he had made a habit of keeping a can of gas in his trunk. “Not a problem. I’ve got a gallon—” He interrupted himself when he saw Joelle shaking her head in short, quick motions.

  Lloyd’s face brightened. “You’ve got some here in the car? Great!”

  “That’s okay, Dean,” Joelle said. “Lloyd can pay for his own gas.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “He said he doesn’t mind,” Lloyd agreed.

  Dean wondered why Joelle didn’t want him to help her date out of the bind. Whatever her reasons, her protests were too late. Dean had made the offer, and he wasn’t about to back down. After depositing the fuel in Lloyd’s car, Dean made sure the car started before bidding them both good-bye. Lloyd didn’t offer to pay, and Dean didn’t ask. He didn’t mind. It was the least he could do for Joelle.

  As Dean pulled away, Joelle waved. To his satisfaction, she looked miserable.

  The following Monday, Dean was on his way home when the cell phone in his car rang. He let out a sigh. What else can go wrong today?

  He had already repaired two washing machines in one of the three Laundromats he owned. Counting today, that would make three repairs in the past month. He’d have to replace at least one machine soon, and two dryers were threatening to expire.

  Despite the hassles, Dean was proud of the business he called his own. He had sunk every cent into buying the Laundromats when Mr. Chaney
retired. Even then, the older man had given him a price break because he knew Dean well.

  Dean had prayed about the purchase. He knew being an entrepreneur offered independence but carried a stiff price in responsibility. When Dean felt the Lord’s leading to go forward with the purchase, he vowed to honor Him by being a good steward. One way was to offer his customers dependable machines. That meant not keeping those that were sputtering to a slow, lingering death, no matter how tempting the urge—or the need—to save money might be.

  Dean made sure his facilities were clean. He was thankful his sister, Mandy, didn’t mind the job. The small salary from Dean gave her a sense of freedom and allowed his brother-in-law a couple of evenings a week to spend time with their two boys.

  As he answered the phone, Dean expected to hear Mandy’s voice, telling him about something gone awry at the site she was cleaning. If disaster was in the making, that would mean a round trip of eighty miles added to the end of an exhausting day. “Wash ’n Wear,” he murmured, trying not to sound too depressed.

  “Hi, Dean.”

  “Joelle!” His sigh of relief was audible. “Am I glad it’s you.”

  She giggled. “You were expecting Mandy.”

  “How well you know.” Dean remembered he was supposed to be mad at Joelle for dumping him on Singles’ Night to go off with that snob she met through the personals, of all places. “I saw yesterday in church you got home all right from your date.”

  “I want to talk to you about that.” Joelle’s voice was a combination of mockery and teasing. “I tried to catch up with you after Sunday school, but you were off faster than I could shake a stick.”

  “An emergency at one of the stores. Water gushing all over the place.” Dean cringed at the memory.

  “Sorry. Well, at least it’s fixed now.” She paused a moment. “I want to thank you properly for stopping for Lloyd and me. How about dinner at Mary’s tonight? My treat. Have you got time?”

  Of course I have time for you, he wanted to say. Instead, he answered, “I think so.”

  “Good. Besides, isn’t getting together what friends do?”