Epilogue

EPILOGUE

T he Jade Room at Le Maison Vale sparkled with spring sunshine and possibility. Gerri sipped her lavender Earl Grey, hiding her smile behind the delicate porcelain rim as she watched Eleanor Grant and Victoria Vale approach the small podium. Both women radiated maternal satisfaction - their children safely mated and their friendship cemented through shared grandchildren-to-be plotting.

The room bloomed with fresh peonies and cherry blossoms, their soft pink hues complementing the parade of designer dresses and elaborate hats adorning Manhattan’s most formidable matchmaking mamas. Gerri’s own hat, a confection of silver silk roses that matched her bob perfectly, tilted at a rakish angle as she leaned forward to listen.

“To Gerri.” Eleanor raised her champagne flute, her surgeon’s precision evident even in this elegant gesture. “Who saw what we all missed - that sometimes the perfect match requires an explosion in a lab.”

Victoria dabbed at her eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief. “And who reminded us that mothers really do know best, even when our children think they’re too busy for love.”

“Especially then,” Gerri called out, earning knowing laughs from the assembled women.

As the official thanks concluded, Gerri found herself cornered by Audrey Greene and Iris Spectre - both wearing matching expressions of maternal determination that made her matchmaking senses tingle.

“My Emma,” Audrey began, adjusting her powder-blue hat, “hasn’t left her research lab in three months. Three months! The last time she came to Sunday dinner, she muttered about statistical anomalies in genetic sequencing data and corporate financial patterns. Thirty-one years old, three doctorates, and she hasn’t been on a date since her thesis defense.”

“That’s nothing.” Iris’s emerald dress rustled as she leaned in. “Lucas missed Christmas because of some emergency acquisition in Tokyo. His assistant sent a gift basket. A gift basket! To his own mother!”

“Ladies.” Gerri set down her teacup with a decisive clink. “Your children aren’t problems to be solved. They’re puzzles waiting for the right pieces.”

“But Emma won’t even look up from her data sets long enough to see the pieces,” Audrey sighed. “She’s brilliant - genetics, statistics, and accounting - but she treats everything like it’s just another pattern to analyze.”

“Then perhaps,” Gerri’s eyes sparkled with mischief, “she needs a pattern worthy of her analysis. Those financial irregularities she’s found in genetic research companies - encourage her to dig deeper. Especially if they lead to... oh, say, Spectre Corporation?”

Iris’s perfectly groomed eyebrows shot up. “Should I warn Lucas? I mean, if there’s something wrong with the company’s genetics division-“

“Oh no, dear.” Gerri patted her hand. “Just make sure to mention this brilliant young researcher when she inevitably arrives at his office. Sometimes the best statistical models require... unexpected variables.”

“Are you suggesting...” Audrey’s eyes widened behind her designer frames.

“I’m not suggesting anything.” Gerri selected a macaron from a passing tray. “I’m simply noting that genetic sequences and corporate legacies occasionally need... recombination. Now, who’s seen the lovely cake Eleanor and Victoria commissioned? I hear its molecular structure matches Natalie and Marcus’s first kiss.”

The women drifted toward the celebration, but Gerri noticed them exchanging excited glances. Across the room, Eleanor and Victoria held court, their joy infectious as they shared details of the proposal they’d witnessed through “borrowed” security footage.

Gerri smiled into her refreshed teacup. Time to let this particular matchmaking seed germinate while she prepared for her next project. After all, genetic prodigies and corporate CEOs weren’t the only ones who needed a little supernatural intervention in their love lives.

But that, as they say, was another story altogether.