-momsincontrol- Giselle Palmer- Sheridan Love -... ❲PLUS❳
Lucas grinned. “And I taught the class how to make a paper airplane that actually flies!”
Mia’s eyes lit up. “I finally solved the fraction problem in math!”
Inside, the kitchen was already humming with activity. The kids had set the table, their faces smeared with flour. The scent of vanilla and melted butter wafted from the oven, a comforting reminder that some things never changed.
“Giselle,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t know who else to call.” -MomsInControl- Giselle Palmer- Sheridan Love -...
Sheridan’s shoulders relaxed minutely. “Thank you, Giselle. I know I’ve been… a mess. I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”
“Alright,” she said, voice steady. “We’ll get the locket. But first, we need to secure the box. I’ll call my old friend Maya—she still works security for the bank. She can help us with the safe. And you—don’t do anything rash. We’ll go together, and we’ll make sure Aaron can’t hurt anyone else.”
“Great,” Giselle said, smiling. “Both sound like perfect topics for a ‘What I Learned Today’ journal. We’ll write them tonight. And then—” She paused for dramatic effect—“—you’ll help me bake the biggest chocolate chip cookie the world has ever seen.” Lucas grinned
The drive home was a blur of traffic lights and grocery store stop‑and‑go. As she pulled into the driveway, Giselle’s mind raced. She had always prided herself on being the one who kept things together—family schedules, school events, the endless list of errands. This was the first time she felt truly out of control.
She gave a half‑smile. “You’re family, Sheridan. ‘Moms in control’ isn’t just a slogan; it’s a promise. Let’s get this done.”
He nodded. “I tried to get it back, but he’s got a lock on the box. I need the combination. I remembered that you once told me the date of our grandmother’s wedding—May 12, 1963. That’s the code. I’m too scared to go alone. Please, help me get it back.” The kids had set the table, their faces smeared with flour
Giselle’s heart hammered. “So he’s blackmailing you?”
Maya, ever practical, nodded. “Now, let’s get you both out of here.”
Giselle Palmer & the Mystery of Sheridan Love When the school bell rang at 3 p.m., the parking lot at Willow Creek Elementary turned into a chaotic runway of squealing brakes, shouted good‑byes, and the occasional frantic search for a lost lunchbox. Among the swarm of parents, one woman moved with a calm that seemed to slow time itself. Giselle Palmer, the mother of two, a senior project manager at a tech startup, and the unofficial “mom‑in‑control” of the PTA, had already mapped out the evening in her mind—homework, dinner, a quick call with her sister, and, most importantly, the surprise she’d been planning for weeks.
At 5:58 p.m., she pulled into the driveway of her neighbor, Mrs. Alvarez, and whispered a quick excuse about a sudden migraine. “I’ll be right back,” she told the kids, giving them a kiss on the forehead. She slipped the front door, locked it, and set off for the pier.
