The President's Accidental Wife

Chapter 77

An old lady was standing at the bronze carved gate. She was nearly seventy, but still full of vigor.

As the car door opened, she strode over, gave Mark an affectionate hug, and patted him on the

shoulder. "It has been a long time, Mark."

A gentle look replaced the deadpan face of Mark." How are you doing all these days, Ms. Moore?"

"I am great. I can even carry a rock on my back." The old lady's voice suddenly turned into that of a

whining child. "You never come to see me. Did you forget me and not miss me anymore?"

"Of course, I miss you. You know what, I have brought your favorite prunes. Do you want it?” Mark

embraced the old lady in his arms and coaxed her gently.

"Yeah.” The old lady snuggled in his arms like a child.

Summer looked on with her jaw dropping to the ground. She did not expect to see that the old lady

could be so lovely.

And Mark’s attitude toward this old lady was nothing like how he treated Yvette and Gordon.

"Are the prunes still with you, Mrs. Valentine?" Mark looked at Summer.

Summer snapped back and quickly patted the luggage bag. "It is all here." This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

The old lady swept her eyes up and down on Summer, studying her for a while. "What is your

profession?"

"I am a language teacher."

"Ahh, an engineer of the human soul. I like it." The old lady nodded approvingly.

Her words surprised Summer.

"Have you met that old man yet?"

Summer figured the old lady must be talking about Gordon, and so she nodded.

But the old lady surprised her next with an awkward question. "Between me and that old man-who

looks younger?"

Summer looked at the old lady for a while and then hemmed. "Grandpa looks a tad younger."

She was speaking the truth. Gordon's hair was darker, which made him look younger. But overall

appearance wise, they were more or less the same age.

"He always secretly dyes his hair. In fact, he is three years younger than me. You have got a keen eye,

Mrs. Valentine," the old lady said.

"My name is Summer Hart. Just call me Summer, Grandma." "It doesn’t matter. But you are to call me

Ms. Moore, just like Mark does." "Okay, Ms. Moore." It sounded awkward to her, though.

As eccentric as the old lady was, she was a very likeable person.

"I have to get back to the office in a while. You all may go about your things." The old lady looked down

at the time. "But be sure to get home before I come home."

Mark raised an eyebrow and nodded in acknowledgement.

After the old lady left, Summer took out her down jacket from the luggage bag and put it on. She then

looked at Mark, who was napping on the settee. "Do you want to go to Chatforte Tops with me?"

He nodded, got to his feet, and walked ahead of her.

She heeled him with the corners of her mouth turned u p in a smile. Climbing Chatforte Tops on their

honeymoon was not such a bad idea at all. The view at the top was worth the effort.

The heavy snow outside did not seem to deter coming out in droves to the famous Chatforte Tops.

Summer thought she had good stamina. Perhaps because of the pregnancy, she was a little out of

breath after walking for an hour.