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I think I’ve had quite enough of this temper tantrum.
“I’m so sorry that you had to go through this, Agnes.”
“As you should be,” she sneers.
“However, I must say that you brought this on yourself.”
“Excuse me?!” she shrieks while I remain perfectly calm.
“As we had discussed prior to you becoming a client, Love Moore is not a run-of-the-mill dating site and therefore shouldn’t be treated as such. Just because a possible candidate appears on your profile doesn’t mean he’s a right fit for you. That’s where my team and I come into play. We look over all the candidates and see who best to approach. Not everyone is a good candidate as it may appear at first. As you so well experienced. That’s why, early in our meetings, I made it very clear that you should not approach anyone directly until I have given you the green light to do so.”
Agnes’s face turns beet red.
“Are you really going to sit there and say this is all my fault?”
“What I’m saying is that you should trust the process we have in place. Don’t make hasty decisions like booking a date with someone who hasn’t been vetted by me yet. Nathan will make some girl very happy. Someone who will appreciate his eccentricities. If you had reached out to me first, I would have told you that he was a bit rough around the edges to be a suitable match for you.”
“Rough around the edges?! That man is all razor-blade sharp corners. I doubt there is a woman alive who could tolerate hiseccentricities,as you called it.”
“Then it’s a good thing that’s my concern and not yours,” I rebuke with a bit of a bite, displeased with her quick judgment of Nate. “Let’s take this incident as a lesson learned and look to the future, shall we?”
I get up from the couch and walk over to my desk to pick up the tablet, schooling my features before returning to my seat beside a pissed-off Agnes.
I find her profile easy enough and turn the screen her way.
“Right now, there are seventeen possible matches, but right off the bat, I see one name that is perfect for you. Lawrence Preston III.”
That grabs her attention.
“Laurie? Oh my! I didn’t know he was back from London.” Her blue eyes sparkle. “Laurie and I went to the same private school growing up. I used to have the biggest crush on him.”
“You don’t say?” I muse, having already known that.
When Agnes snatches the tablet out of my hands just to ogle Laurie’s picture, I breathe easy, knowing that the crisis has been averted.
“He never really noticed me back then, though. He was a senior, and I was a freshman when we both attended St. Mary’s. After he graduated, he went to Oxford for his business degree and then moved to London to work at his father’s firm. I guess the rumors are true that his father is thinking about retiring if Laurie has returned to Boston,” she says, as she runs the pads of her fingers over his profile picture.
“Not only that, but he’s looking to settle down here, too. This sounds like fate to me,” I retort, hating to have succumbed to using words like fate. “If you’re interested, I can call Lawrence today and tell him that I might have found just the woman for him to connect with.”
“Really?” she says, her eyes sparkling brighter than her diamond earrings.
“If you’re up for it. I don’t want to send you on a date if you’re not ready for it after last night’s debacle with Nathan.”
“Who?” she says absentmindedly, still staring at my tablet.
“I’ll give Lawrence a call then,” I smirk. “But Agnes, should you two not hit it off, please contact me so we can look at the other possible candidates.”
“Oh, we’ll hit it off. I guarantee it.”
My forehead wrinkles at the certainty in her voice.
I almost feel bad for Laurie.
“Very well then.” I get up from the couch, my silent cue to her that we’re done here. “I’ll reach out to him today and then email you with his reply.”
“Thank you, Charlotte.” She squeals before standing up. “This is the best news I could have possibly gotten. I knew my love life was in good hands with you.”
I don’t remind her that not a few minutes ago, she was ready to pull out of the program. I wave her goodbye and watch her walk out of my office like she’s walking on air, already daydreaming of becoming Mrs. Lawrence Preston III.
