But it had been her armor for so long: Cynthia Gibbons—the Ice Queen, the cold-blooded seductress who stole your heart and emptied your wallet. Could she really leave that persona behind forever?
Cynthia gazed at her engagement ring. Korey hadn’t given it to her on bended knee in front of a saxophone player like Bill had twenty years ago. Nor had he proudly slid the velvet box across the table at a high-end restaurant like her second husband, Richard. No, that wasn’t Korey’s style. Instead, Korey had done it in the car after pulling into the makeshift parking lot near a creek, near the old-timer’s favorite fishing spot in Chesterton, where they had gone so many times when they were younger. When he killed the engine and turned to her, she wondered why he had driven her to the empty lot.
“Why are we here?” she had asked, scrunching up her face in confusion as she peered out the windshield. “I thought we were going to—”
“I brought you here to give you this,” he had said, cutting her off, holding out the ring to her. A lump had instantly formed in her throat. “I wanted to do this right here twenty years ago but . . . well, I didn’t get to. I had planned it in my mind. Practiced what I was going to say.” He had grinned. “Of course, I can’t remember any of the words now, but . . . better late than never, right?”
Her eyes had welled up with so many tears that everything went blurry.
“Cynthia Gibbons, will you fuss, fight, make love, and laugh through the next fifty years with me?”
She had been so overwhelmed with emotion that instead of immediately saying yes, she had sat in the passenger seat blubbering instead. All she could do was emphatically nod as he put the ring on her finger.
Ice queens definitely don’t weep like that, she now told herself.
Who was she kidding? She wasn’t the same old girl anymore and never would be. She had Korey to thank (or blame) for that. And it was true. She wouldn’t mind spending the next fifty years fussing, fighting, making love, and laughing with him. Hell, she’d like to spend a lot more!
“Okay,” Cynthia finally muttered, opening her eyes.
“Okay, what?” Lauren asked.
Cynthia rose to her feet. “Okay, help me get into my wedding gown.”
When her sisters started to clap their hands with joy and even started dancing, Cynthia rolled her eyes.
“Save the damn cheers for some other time. We’re late,” she said, making them burst into laughter.
She was new and improved—but that didn’t mean she had to stop being bitchy entirely.
Thirty minutes later, Cynthia officially and finally became Mrs. Korey Walker. When the bride and groom kissed, Lauren, Dawn, and Stephanie breathed a sigh of relief.
“Girl, I didn’t know if she was going to make it,” Dawn whispered into Lauren’s ear as the string quartet began “Pomp and Circumstance” while the happy couple walked back down the aisle.
Lauren nodded in agreement. “Me neither!”
By the time Cynthia and Korey made it to the reception, Cynthia’s little bridal suite meltdown was all but forgotten. She and the groom gazed into each other’s eyes during their first dance and couldn’t keep their hands off each other for the rest of the night.
“All right now,” Stephanie said as she tapped Cynthia on the shoulder. “Come up for air, you two!”
The bride pulled her mouth away from the groom long enough for him to be dragged off by one of the groomsmen and a few of the mechanics from his garage.
“You better watch it or you’ll be next in line for a baby,” Stephanie said as she gently patted baby Danica’s back. The infant was slumbering on her shoulder while her older sister Zoe was being twirled on the dance floor by her father, Keith.
Cynthia emphatically shook her head. “Oh, no! This shop is closed! My daughter turned twenty last month, and I’m about to turn forty years old in a few weeks! There’s no way in hell I’m getting pregnant again.”
Stephanie turned to Lauren.
“Uh-uh! Don’t look at me!” Lauren exclaimed. “I’m not even thinking about having another baby anytime soon. Things are starting to pick up at the restaurant. Little Cris takes up enough of whatever energy I have left.” She then turned to Dawn. “So I guess the only one left is you.”
Cynthia snorted. “Dawn isn’t going to have any baby! Right, girl? You’re not crazy. Your shop is closed too.”
Dawn hesitated. “I don’t . . . I don’t think it’s crazy, per se. I have room for a couple of last-minute sales before my ‘shop’ goes out of business.”
“Last-minute sales?” Cynthia frowned. “What does that mean?”
Lauren smiled. “It means Xavier finally won you over to the idea of having a baby?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“Wait!” Stephanie squinted at her. “You aren’t pregnant now, are you?”
Dawn lowered her champagne glass from her lips. “What makes you think that?”
Stephanie grabbed Dawn’s glass and sniffed. “Because you’re drinking ginger ale, not champagne! You big faker! I knew it!”
“Maybe I wanted ginger ale!” Dawn argued.
“Oh, please, girl! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a party without a glass of chardonnay in your hand,” Cynthia said.
Dawn winced. “You guys are making me sound like an alcoholic.”
“Not an alcoholic—just a really bad liar,” Lauren said. She then squinted at her sister, examining her more closely. “Are you pregnant, Dawn?”
“The rate of miscarriage for women my age is a lot higher,” she began, staring into her drink, evading their gazes. “My doc advises his higher-risk patients to hold off telling people at least until the second trimester but . . .” She suddenly looked up and grinned. “Yes, I’m pregnant!”
Lauren, Cynthia, and Stephanie all started screaming and jumping up and down, drawing a few stares.
“Please! Please keep it quiet for now,” Dawn begged. “It’s hard enough making Xavier keep his mouth shut. He’d tell the world if he found out I told you guys.”
“When are you due?” Lauren asked.
“In December . . . if I make it that far.”
“What do you mean if you make it that far?” Stephanie cried. “Of course, you will, girl! Stop being so pessimistic!”
“Well, when you’re pregnant with twins, you don’t always deliver at full term, so I—”
“Twins?” Cynthia gasped, wide-eyed.
Dawn nodded. “I know. I was shocked too. Oh, my God!” At that moment, Dawn looked almost faint. “What was I thinking letting Xavier talk me into this? Twins! And they’ll be twenty-one when I’m like . . . what? Sixty!” She stared at her sisters. “I’m insane, aren’t I? I’m completely insane.”
Cynthia threw her arm around her sister’s shoulder. “Nope, just dumb—and in love.”
The party wound down just after midnight. Though the rain had stopped hours earlier, humidity still hung in the air as the bride and groom made their grand exit. Everyone assembled outside on opposite sides of the brick walkway with sparklers in their hands as Korey and Cynthia ran smiling to the waiting Rolls Royce that Crisanto had loaned them for their wedding. After Cynthia and Korey pulled off under the glow of the full moon and the sound of cheers, the rest of the throng started to depart.
Lauren found her husband, who was surrounded by several town residents who wanted to grab the ear of the new mayor of Chesterton.
“Sorry, folks,” she said as she grabbed his hand and began to tug him away. “It’s well past the little one’s bedtime. We have to head home, but I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to talk to all of you tomorrow morning at city hall.”
Stephanie and Keith left soon after with Zoe slumbering on his shoulder and their youngest, Danica, passed out on hers. They absently waved good-bye before loading the kids into the car and driving back to their town house, which they had put on the market just last week. They were looking for a four- or five-bedroom house this time around.
�
��It’ll give us room to grow,” Keith had argued.
“Grow?” Stephanie had frowned. “Oh, no! I’m not getting pregnant again until I lose fifteen . . . no, twenty pounds! You’re not making me into the Goodyear Blimp!”
“You’re never gonna be the Goodyear Blimp, baby. And even if you were, you’re a gorgeous, intelligent woman. I wouldn’t care.”
“Awww, thank you, honey!” she had whispered before kissing him.
Dawn and Xavier were the last stragglers, though, truth be told, she was exhausted by the time they left. The pregnancy was already taking its toll. Her energy level was at an all-time low, and she tired so easily now. Xavier could see how worn-out she was and actually tried to carry her out of the tent—to her great embarrassment. She slapped his shoulder and told him she could make it, but he only let her walk once he had wrapped a protective arm around her waist. He kept patting her stomach absently.
“I told my sisters,” she confessed as they drove back to his condo, unable to keep her secret any longer.
“You told them what?”
“About the babies.”
“You told them you were pregnant?” he shouted, making her wince. “Oh, now it’s on! I’m telling everybody! My mom! The staff at the community center! I’m having a billboard printed!” he exclaimed.
She laughed.
Ten minutes later, Yolanda walked out of the reception alone. It had been one of the few times when the matriarch did not bring a date to a social event, but tonight she hadn’t wanted to share her focus on her daughter’s wedding with some man. As she waited for the valet to bring around her car, she shook her head. She had tried so hard to teach her daughters the Gibbons family ways, the rules of gold digging. They had followed her guidance for a while. Some of the girls had done it longer than most, but, with time, all had taken their own path.
Even my Cynthia, she thought sadly, which still shocked her.
She had failed with all of them.
But, she thought, there’s still the next generation.
Clarissa may be with Jared now, but that didn’t mean she was entirely a lost cause. There were also little Zoe and Danica, and who knew how many more granddaughters the girls might have one day. Who knows how many she could one day train!
Or maybe I could take it beyond the family, Yolanda thought, her eyes widening. Maybe she could start her own training program, write a book, or make an instructional DVD!
“Miss Gibbons’s Rules of Gold Digging,” Yolanda whispered. She liked the sound of that!
“Your car, ma’am,” the valet said, handing the keys to her, holding open the door to her Mercedes.
“Why, thank you, young man!” She grinned and climbed inside. The wheels were now turning in her head at full speed.
A READING GROUP GUIDE
THE BEST SHE
EVER HAD
Shelly Ellis
ABOUT THIS GUIDE
The suggested questions that follow are included to en-
hance your group’s reading of this book.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. Why is Cynthia so hostile to her sisters’ significant others? What do these men symbolize for her?
2. Clarissa would rather run away than grow up and have a life like her mother. Is she misguided in her beliefs?
3. During the flight to Las Vegas, Cynthia and Korey share their very different recollections of what went wrong in their relationship when they were teenagers. Were they both wrong for letting this confusion persist for so many years, or was it solely Cynthia’s fault?
4. Cynthia is still carrying the burden of one more secret: the true paternity of her daughter, Clarissa. Is she wrong for keeping her worries from Korey?
5. Korey forces Cynthia to apologize to him even though he knew the reasons why she broke up with him when they were teenagers. Was he petty for doing this?
6. Korey decides to take a chance and pronounces his love to Cynthia all over again. Is he foolish to do this?
7. Even after Clarissa and Jared discover the secret of Clarissa’s paternity, Jared still wants them to remain a couple. Is he crossing a line or should the circumstances enable them to continue their relationship?
8. Korey says that Cynthia has lied to him and broken his heart too many times to forgive her. Do you agree with his decision?
Shelly Ellis returns with a brand new series centered around the Murdochs, an old family in Chesterton, Virginia, going as far back as the slavery days. But all families, especially old ones, have their secrets . . .
Don’t miss the shocking first book in the
Murdoch Family series
Risking Scandal
Coming in September 2015!
Chapter 1
Leila Hawkins paused as she mounted the last concrete step in front of the double doors of the First Good Samaritan Baptist Church—one of the oldest and largest churches in Chesterton, Virginia—her hometown. Nestled on Broadleaf Avenue across the street from rustic Macon Park, the house of worship had hosted many a baptism, funeral, and nuptial inside its brick walls in the one hundred and some odd years of its existence. And, since 1968, a stark white sign had sat along its exterior, highlighting a Bible verse chosen by the honorable reverend or the assistant pastor when the reverend was ill or on vacation. Leila stepped aside to let a couple pass as she squinted at that sign, which hung a foot away from the doors and several feet above her head.
“A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control,” the sign read in big bold letters. “Proverbs 29:11.”
Her eyebrows furrowed.
What the hell . . .
Was someone reading her mind?
Who cares if they are, she thought, and then grabbed one of the church’s stainless steel door handles.
She was on a mission today and she wasn’t going to be deterred from it. She was giving “full vent” to her anger, whether any celestial being liked it or not. Leila was crashing this high-falutin’ wedding, and only lightning bolts or locusts would keep her away!
She walked into the vestibule then tugged a heavy wooden door open, preparing herself to be met by a hundred stares, finger pointing, and indignation the instant she stepped inside the sanctuary.
“Hey! You’re not supposed to be here!” she waited for someone to shout at her.
Instead, she was greeted by a light melody played by a string quartet and the polite chatter of the two-hundred-and-some odd guests who were taking their seats in the velvet-cushioned pews.
No one stared at her. Hell, they barely seemed to notice her!
The tension in her shoulders instantly relaxed. Her white-knuckled grip on her satin clutch loosened. She reminded herself that she was walking into a wedding, not a gladiator pit.
“You’re here to talk to Evan,” a voice in her head cautioned her. “Not to fight with him. Remember?”
That’s right. I’m just here to talk to him, to have a conversation with an old friend.
And if Evan chose not to be polite or listen to her, then and only then would she go off on him.
She forced a smile and looked around.
The sanctuary was filled with splashes of pink and lavender which Leila remembered were the bride’s favorite colors. Roses, hydrangeas, freesias, and lilacs decorated the pulpit and pews, filling the space with their alluring scent. Ribbons and ivy garland were draped over anything and everything, and free-standing candelabras stood along each aisle and the rows of stained glass windows.
Leila felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. She hadn’t set foot in this church since her own wedding day eight years ago. As she gazed around her, all the memories of that day came rushing back like a tsunami: the anticipation and nervousness she had felt as she waited for the church doors to open, the happiness she had experienced when she saw her handsome groom waiting for her at the end of the aisle, and the overwhelming sadness that had washed over her when she looked at the wedding guests and did not see her then best friend Evan’s s
mile among their friendly faces.
But she had known Evan wouldn’t come to her wedding. Stubborn Evan Murdoch had told her in the plainest way possible that there was no way he would stand by and pretend that he was happy about her nuptials.
“That son of bitch is going to break your heart,” Evan had warned her over the phone all those years ago when she made one last-ditch effort to ask him to come to the wedding. “He’s going to drag you down. And when he does, don’t come crying to me.”
Leila wasn’t sure what had made her angrier—that Evan had given her that dire, bitter prediction on the eve of her wedding—or that his prediction had come true. But today she would have to put aside all that resentment and anger if she was going to get Evan to do what she needed him to do for her mother. Her mother—a proud woman who had juggled multiple jobs and saved every dime she had for decades to gather the money to put Leila through school and give her a reasonably happy life. Leila had tried to repay her by purchasing her a two-bedroom bungalow in a middle-class neighborhood where they still held summer block parties, where neighbors still waved and said hello. But now Leila’s mother would lose her home in a few months without Evan’s help.
Leila’s grip on her purse tightened again.
She’d argue. She’d beg. She’d do what she’d have to do to get Evan to listen to her.
“So you’re going to have to come crying to him, after all,” that annoying voice in her head said. “Are you really going to humiliate yourself like this? Would you really give him the satisfaction?”
I will for Ma’s sake, she thought.
“Bride or groom?” someone asked, yanking Leila from her thoughts.
“What?” Leila asked.
She turned to find an usher leaning toward her. An officious-looking woman stood behind him with a pinched face reserved for those who waited at the counter at the DMV and dentists’ offices. A clipboard covered with several stacks of paper was in her hands. The woman discreetly whispered something into her headset while the usher continued to gaze at Leila expectantly.
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