Page 44 of Charming Crosschecks

Gerry turned toward Molly, his voice almost casual. “Do you want some hot tea?”

The question was so normal, so at odds with the grandeur surrounding them, that she felt momentarily thrown. She caught a flicker of something in his eyes—was it nerves? “Uh, sure,” she replied, her voice quieter than she intended. This entire situation felt like stepping into an episode ofDownton Abbey.

The butler? He has a butler?

Peter walked away, his movements smooth and deliberate, leaving Molly to gape silently before Gerry clasped her hand. His touch was steady but warm, grounding her as he guided them toward an elegant set of double doors. He pushed them open to reveal a library that stole her breath. Towering shelves crammed with books stretched to the ceiling, lit by the golden glow of antique sconces. It was the kind of room that would make Belle fromBeauty and the Beastdissolve into happy tears.

Her moment of awe was abruptly cut short by the sound of the doors clicking shut behind them. Gerry turned to face her, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Molly,” he began softly, his tone careful, “before my mom gets here, I need to apologize. My mom’s… sharp. She’s really smart, and she doesn’t waste time sugarcoating anything. She can come off as tough, but I promise she’s not unkind. Just… different.”

Molly could see the vulnerability flickering behind his words. He was nervous, and that was rare for Gerry. His confidence usually seemed unshakable. “I think you’ll both get along great with her,” he continued, glancing at Sandy as if searching for reassurance. “I just don’t want anyone walking into this with the wrong expectations.”

Sandy stepped in, her voice smooth and comforting. “It’s your mother,” she said easily, brushing off the tension as though it were a minor detail. “Family is family, no matter what. Relax. We’ll have a wonderful weekend getting to know her.”

Molly nodded, her voice stronger now. “Exactly. It’s going to be fine, Gerry. And honestly, how could it not be when you’re so amazing?”

Her words seemed to catch him off guard, a faint blush creeping to his cheeks as he smiled sheepishly. But before the warmth of the moment could settle, the double doors swung open behind him with a deliberate flourish, commanding their attention.

A woman stepped into the room with an air of authority that was impossible to ignore. She was tall and striking, her silver-streaked hair swept into a sleek chignon. Her pristine white dress slacks and linen blouse, adorned with an elegant bow at the neckline, looked effortlessly expensive. She didn’t just walk into the room—shearrivedas if she were gracing them with her presence.

“Gerard,” she said, her tone crisp and cool.

“Hello, Mom,” Gerry replied, his voice tinged with unease. “This is Molly and her mother, Sandy.” He paused for a fraction of a second, then gestured toward the imposing woman. “Molly, this is my mother, Aldonard.”

Molly hesitated, caught in a fleeting moment of uncertainty. Should she extend her hand, a gesture of polite introduction, or curtsy, though she’d never actually curtsied in her life? The indecision made her feel out ofplace in the vast, imposing space around her, with its polished floors and gilded accents. But before she could act, her gaze snagged on the faint curve of Aldonard’s lips. It wasn’t a warm smile, not one that invited familiarity, but neither was it cold. Instead, it held a knowing edge, the expression of someone acutely aware of their power over a room and unashamed to wield it.

“It’s French, and people struggle with the pronunciation,” Aldonard said, her tone even, controlled, as if she had perfected this explanation over years of repetition. “You may call me Toni or Addie. Gerard, why don’t you show our guests to their rooms? We’ll have tea shortly. I caught Peter in the kitchen, and he’s making sandwiches—just in case anyone is hungry after the trip. That will give us a moment to speak.”

Her voice was smooth, almost too smooth, leaving Molly feeling scrutinized, measured, and subtly dismissed all at once. This woman did not, could not, look like a “Toni.” The name felt too playful, too casual for someone who stood with such commanding poise. Aldonard had a sharpness to her presence, a kind of elegant austerity that belonged in stories about duchesses or queens. Her face, framed by impeccably styled hair, seemed sculpted for judgment. If anyone embodied the phrasestiff upper lip,it was her.

“Of course, Mom,” Gerry replied, his tone dutiful but relaxed, as if accustomed to her clipped commands. He turned to Molly and her mother. “I’ll be back momentarily. Molly? Sandy?”

Molly’s mother gave her a pointed look as they followed Gerry into the cavernous hallway, their footsteps echoing on the polished marble floor. Molly winced at the sound of her sneakers squeaking against the pristine surface, feeling the contrast between her casual attire and the grandeur surrounding her.

They ascended a sweeping staircase, its banister curving gracefully like something out of a historical drama. Molly glanced at Gerry, wanting to ask why his mother had insisted on speaking to him alone, but she held back. Now wasn’t the time for questions. This was just the start of the weekend—first impressions were always tough, weren’t they? Maybe this was what Gerry had tried to warn her about earlier.

“Sandy, this is your room,” Gerry said easily, his voice breaking through her thoughts as her mother stepped into the room with her bag. He turned to Molly, gesturing to the next door. “And this one’s yours.”

“Which one is yours?” Molly asked, still feeling a lingering unease.

“Next door,” Gerry replied, pausing briefly before adding with a small sigh, “Mom wants to talk. Probably about the arrangements, my clothing, the fact that I rented a car instead of having us picked up, or…”

“Gerry,” Molly interrupted, her voice filled with disbelief. “What is going on? How did you grow up so… normal?”

Gerry’s lips quirked in a rueful smile. “Mom’s normal—well, shewas—but she has an image to maintain now. She’s running for governor of the city.”

Molly’s jaw dropped.

“You. Are. Kidding. Me.”

“Look,” Gerry hesitated, his gaze softening. “I didn’t grow up in the best places or the best homes. Mom had to fight for every scrap while she was taking classes and working toward her degree. But she kept at it, and eventually, things turned around. Life got easier.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?” Molly asked, arching an eyebrow.

Gerry exhaled, his voice quieter now. “But she’s still the same mom who raised me,” he said, a tender smile touching his lips. “She likes her coffee, her beer, and hockey—even if she’s wearing business suits these days.”

Molly studied his expression, her earlier frustration softening. He loved his mother deeply; that much was clear. Gerry was all about bonds—whether it was with his team, his mom, or her. She’d wanted to be part of his world, to share his inner circle, and now she was here. There was no point in complaining.

“Things will be fine,” Gerry said, his voice sweet and reassuring as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. His touch was tender, his eyes meeting hers with an unspoken vulnerability. For a brief moment, she glimpsed the boy he once was—the one who just wanted to be accepted.

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