Best She Ever Had (9781617733963) (6 page)

C
ynthia woke up the next morning feeling as if she had endured a twelve-round bout with a champion heavyweight. She had barely slept last night because of her fight with Clarissa, tossing and turning in her king-size bed for hours. She finally gave up at around five a.m., threw on her robe, and slunk downstairs to the kitchen to drink a cup of coffee and watch the sunrise from her kitchen's bay window. She had expected to be emotionally drained, but she had no idea she would feel physically exhausted too. Her head still ached. Her body was sore. Her eyes felt swollen, as if they were filled with sand. She knew her daughter was hurting too. She just wished Clarissa would understand that this was for the best.

Cynthia stood up from her kitchen stool a little after eight a.m. and decided to make breakfast. The house was eerily quiet, save for the sound of bacon sizzling on the griddle. When the toast and eggs were done, she opened the kitchen cabinets to retrieve glasses and ceramic plates.

“Clarissa!” she called out, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of OJ. “Clarissa, I made breakfast!”

She placed the plates, glasses, and orange juice on the kitchen island and waited a beat. She didn't hear her daughter rouse upstairs.

She walked out of the kitchen, stood at the foot of the staircase, and stared at the floor above. “Clarissa?”

There was still no answer. Clarissa's bedroom door didn't even open. So it looked like she was getting the silent treatment. She should have expected as much.

She took a deep breath and slowly climbed the steps. She walked down the hall and gently knocked on Clarissa's bedroom door.

“Clarissa, I made breakfast.”

She dropped her hands to her hips and tilted her head. Still getting no response, Cynthia tried the door handle. At least the door wasn't locked. She pushed it open and the door slowly swung on its hinges with a loud creak.

The curtains on Clarissa's two windows were drawn, so the room was dark. Cynthia could see the outline of Clarissa's body on the bed. The young woman was buried under a mound of blankets with her lavender sheets pulled over her head. Her teddy bear sat on the pillow beside her.

Cynthia stepped into the room, feeling an enormous weight on her shoulders. She hated having Clarissa angry at her. She just wanted her daughter to be happy, and in the long run hooking up with some boy with barely a dollar to his name wasn't going to do that. It wasn't easy being the bad guy.

I wonder if Mama felt like this twenty years ago,
Cynthia thought as she crept across the room to Clarissa's bed. Her footsteps were drowned out by the plush gray carpet.

Cynthia could remember the morning after she had broken up with Korey, and how much she had hated her mother for making her do it. She also remembered the conversation she had had with her mother and how the older woman had explained herself and made Cynthia feel that leaving Korey and moving on with Bill was the best choice. A couple months later, when Cynthia discovered that Korey had been cheating on her all along with Vivian, she'd realized that her mother had been right after all. Cynthia struggled now to remember exactly what her mother had said that day. She could use those words of wisdom right now.

“Clarissa, sweetheart,” Cynthia said, sitting on the edge of the bed, “look, I know you're angry. I know how you feel, honey. Really I do.”

She faced Clarissa's cracked closet door and saw that clothes were spilled onto the floor. She would lecture Clarissa about cleaning up her closet later, but for now, she'd focus on the issue at hand.

“I'm going to tell you something . . . something that not any of my sisters know.” Cynthia cleared her throat. “They all act like they invented breaking the rules, like they're the only ones who've fallen in love with guys that no one suspected they would, but it's not true. I-I . . .” She pushed back her shoulders. “I did it too, honey, before I married your father. I fell in love with a guy who probably would have been a mistake. He loved me too . . . or at least I thought he did. It made it even harder to walk away from him. But your grandmother explained it to me logically. And she made a lot of sense, baby. She said, ‘Cindy, a woman doesn't have the luxury of thinking with her heart. She has to think with her head. She doesn't have just the responsibility of herself to worry about. She has to think about the children she'll have in the future. Will the man be a provider? Will she have to hold him up? Love will come and go—that's just a fact of life—but money and a roof over your head can be a shelter against many storms.' ”

Cynthia paused, hoping she was getting through to her daughter. She anxiously fingered the belt of her silk robe as she spoke.

“It still hurt, Clarissa, and . . . I'll tell you the truth. In some ways, after all these years, the pain of walking away from him has never gone away. But I-I still think it was the right decision. I made a good life for you—for
us
. You've never wanted for anything. You've always been taken care of. I hope you can make the same sacrifice, honey.” She turned to look at her daughter. Cynthia reached for her. “So if you would just—”

She halted when she placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder. Instead of feeling solid bone underneath her fingertips, she felt the soft give of a pillow. Cynthia hesitantly pulled back the sheets and saw that it
was
a pillow. She stood and yanked back the sheets even farther and saw that in addition to the pillow, an oversized stuffed giraffe—a keepsake Clarissa had won years ago at a carnival—was also underneath the sheets, but Clarissa wasn't there. She wasn't in her bed.

“Clarissa?
Clarissa?
” Cynthia shouted. She looked around her daughter's bedroom frantically. “Oh, my God!”

She ran toward the walk-in closet and threw open the French doors. Not only were clothes strewn around the floor, but several hangers were empty. Cynthia's eyes darted to the closet shelves. Two pieces of Clarissa's Louis Vuitton luggage were missing too.

“Oh, God, please don't do this to me! Please don't tell me this is happening! Not again!” Cynthia's eyes glistened with tears.

How had she not heard Clarissa packing? Why didn't she hear her leave? Did Clarissa sneak out of the bedroom window again?

Cynthia grabbed the frame of the door to steady herself. She felt faint.

She turned and stumbled out of the closet, intending to run into the hallway to call her sister Lauren. Maybe Clarissa had gone running to her again. Cynthia dashed toward the bedroom doorway, then paused when she caught something out of the corner of her eye. It was a note on Clarissa's dresser. Cynthia spotted her daughter's distinctive bubbled cursive script. She grabbed the pink sheet of paper and read it.

Cynthia brought a hand to her mouth. Warm tears spilled onto her cheeks. She'd never felt so powerless in her life. Her baby had run off to God knows where, was getting married, and there was no way she could stop it.

“H
oney, just take a deep breath,” Lauren said, rubbing Cynthia's back. “We're going to find her. Don't worry.”

Cynthia sat on her living room sofa between her sisters Lauren and Dawn. She was still wearing her robe, nightgown, and fluffy bedroom slippers. She was too distraught to change into real clothes. She sobbed uncontrollably onto Lauren's shoulder, clutching Clarissa's teddy bear against her chest. She hiccupped.

When she had called Lauren to tell her that Clarissa had run away, the Gibbons emergency network instantly mobilized. Lauren called Dawn and left Cristanto Jr. in the care of his father before rushing to Cynthia's side.

Dawn, who had been enjoying a bit of Sunday morning nookie with Xavier, immediately stopped mid-coitus (to her man's great consternation), threw on some clothes, and sped to Cynthia's colonial soon after. Dawn called Stephanie during her high-speed drive to Cynthia's house.

Stephanie left a message with their mother, who was on vacation in Nantucket.

Now Cynthia, Lauren, and Dawn were putting their heads together while they waited for Stephanie to arrive. They thought of ways to track down Clarissa. Well, Lauren and Dawn did the thinking. Cynthia was too busy crying her eyes out to form a plan.

Dawn held Clarissa's letter in her hands. She read it for the umpteenth time and slowly shook her bobbed head. “I wish she'd said where she went.” She gazed at

Cynthia. “Do you have
any
idea where she might have gone?”

“No! She didn't tell me anything! She just snuck out of the house in the middle of the night, and it's all my fault!” Cynthia cried. She wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand. “I drove her away! Now she's going to marry some boy I don't even know! She's ruining her life just to get back at me!”

Lauren pursed her lips. “I don't think she's trying to get back at you, Cindy. I read the letter too. It sounds like she really thinks this is what's best for her.”

“Oh, what does she know?” Cynthia spat. “She's nineteen years old! She's still a baby! And no one will help me get my baby back! Not even the police would help!”

“When did you call the police?” Dawn asked, lowering the letter back to her lap.

“As soon as I found her note! I tried calling Clarissa about a half dozen times. She wouldn't answer, so I called the police instead. I told them she'd run away and she wasn't returning my phone calls. They said because she's not a minor, legally she's old enough to leave the house if she wants. She doesn't have to answer the phone either. And she can get married if wants to!”

Cynthia closed her eyes and flopped back onto the couch cushions. She held the teddy bear over her face. Her sisters watched helplessly as she sobbed. Of all the Gibbons sisters, usually Cynthia was the least likely to become an emotional wreck, but Cynthia couldn't turn off the waterworks now. Thank God Chesterton wasn't near any cliffs! She probably would have hurled herself off of one by now.

The doorbell rang and Cynthia instantly sat bolt upright. She sniffed. For a split second, she hoped it might be Clarissa returning home. But then she remembered that Clarissa had a key. She would never ring the doorbell to her own home.

“It's probably Steph,” Lauren muttered softly. “She said she was on her way over. I'll let her in.”

Cynthia slowly nodded and continued her weeping. She reached for a box of tissues on her coffee table. At least the sobs weren't as loud anymore. She didn't know it was possible, but she was running out of tears.

“I'm here!” Stephanie shouted, sprinting into the living room in her stilettos. She wore a baby carrier on her chest, where little Zoe dangled in cow-print baby pajamas with her slobbery fist in her mouth. “I came as soon as I could!” She pointed down at the little one. “Sorry, I had to feed Zoe first.”

Zoe gurgled and smiled.

Keith trailed in after them, carrying a diaper bag on his shoulder and a stuffed frog in his hand. He shut the front door behind him.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Cynthia asked, narrowing her hazel eyes at Keith.

“Cindy!” Lauren cried.

“Don't ‘Cindy' me!” She glared at Lauren, then snapped her head around to glare up at Keith, the one male in the room. She looked him up and down with contempt.

Men,
she thought. It was a man who probably put the thought into Clarissa's head to run away. It was men—namely Crisanto, Xavier, and Keith—who had pulled her sisters away from her with their talk of love until death do us part and romance and all that crap! She'd be damned if she let a man intrude on this too!

“This is a family problem!” she shouted at Keith, making him take a hesitant step back. “
Our
family! So if your last name isn't Gibbons, then I suggest you get the hell—”

“How dare you talk to Keith that way,” Stephanie said firmly. She bounced the baby, who was now crying. Zoe was never one for shouting. “He
is
family, Cindy, whether you like it or not! He's the father of my child, my soon-to-be husband, and your future
brother-in-law.
So stop treating him like he's some outsider! You're not going to disrespect him anymore! I'm not putting up with it!”

“Look, ladies,” Keith said softly, holding up his hand and the smiling frog. “I'm not trying to start a fight here. I just came to help.”

Dawn's expression brightened. She slowly stood from the sofa. “You . . . you think you can help us, Keith?”

Stephanie took her daughter out of her carrier, cooed to her, and rocked her back and forth, while shooting daggers with her eyes at her eldest sister, Cynthia. Zoe's cries died down to a few soft murmurs.

Keith nodded. “Sure. I track people down for a living. I don't see why I can't track down Clarissa too.” He walked toward Cynthia and sat down in the wingback armchair facing her. He opened a side pocket in the diaper bag and pulled out a pen and a notepad. “Tell me about Clarissa's boyfriend. What's the kid's name?”

Cynthia hesitated. He wasn't family. She didn't care what Stephanie said.

“His name is Jared Walker,” Lauren answered for her.

Cynthia angrily cut her eyes at Lauren. Lauren raised her chin, ignoring her. They watched as Keith scribbled the name on his notepad.

“Do we know where this Jared lives?” he asked.

Lauren nudged Cynthia's shoulder, urging her to answer this time.

Cynthia sighed. “I didn't even know the boy existed until yesterday.”

Keith looked up from his notepad. “So I guess that's a ‘no' then?”

She shook her head.

“Well, I'll run the name through a few databases and see if I get any hits. Maybe I can find an address that way. If I do, we should talk to his parents and see if maybe they have an idea where the kids might have gone.” He flipped his notepad closed. “In the meantime, I'm going to need you to pull any copies of Clarissa's cell phone bills you may have. If you can go online and see what recent calls she's made, that would help a lot too. We could try to create a timeline that way.” He leaned forward. “Does she have any credit cards or debit cards she likes to use that we can trace?”

Cynthia frowned. “She has a gas card with a $200 limit, but that's about it. If she wants to buy anything more than that, she uses my credit cards, but only with my permission. She hasn't borrowed any lately.”

“Well, you may want to check your wallet to see if any of your cards are missing.”

“You think she took my credit cards?” She quickly shook her head. “No! No, that's impossible! Clarissa would
never
steal from me!”

“Uh-huh.” He didn't look convinced. “But why don't you go check?”

When she didn't budge, he inclined his head.

“Humor me,” he said with a wink. “It's just a hunch.”

Cynthia slowly stood from the sofa. While her sisters and Keith waited in the living room, she walked upstairs and looked for her purse, though she knew it was a waste of time. Clarissa had never taken anything from Cynthia without permission in her entire life. Cynthia rifled through her Hermès wallet. She checked each slot, counting her credit cards. She returned to the living room seconds later.

“She stole from me!” Cynthia shouted, waving her wallet around in the air. “She stole from her own mother!”

“What's missing?” Lauren asked.

“My Discover
and
my Visa! I can't believe she stole from me!”

“Well, in this case, her stealing is a good thing,” Keith said. “It makes it easier to track her down. We can monitor all her purchases and maybe see where she's headed.”

“See!” Stephanie beamed as she plopped on the arm of the chair where Keith sat. Zoe slumbered in her arms. She leaned over and kissed Keith on the cheek. “I knew my baby could help! Isn't he a genius?”

“Not quite,” Keith said. “I'm just someone with a lot of detective experience. I'll try my best to help you guys find Clarissa. And I'll do it as quick as I can. I heard time is of the essence here, so I will need you guys to help out on this one.”

They nodded, including Cynthia. Maybe she had been wrong about Keith. She still considered men to be something of another species, but for now, she was willing to make a few exceptions.

The family attacked their tasks simultaneously. Dawn and Lauren went online and checked for any recent purchases Clarissa may have made with Cynthia's credit cards. Cynthia went through Clarissa's old cell phone bills, noting anything that looked out of the ordinary. Keith pulled out his laptop and went through his databases, including criminal and DMV records, looking for the name Jared Walker. Meanwhile, Stephanie stayed in the kitchen, making sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch to help fortify everyone. She only paused from her culinary tasks to breast-feed Zoe again.

Half an hour later, they all met in the kitchen to share the information they had found. They commiserated between bites of sandwiches and spoonfuls of tomato soup.

“I saw the same number five times yesterday!” Cynthia shouted, slapping down the computer printouts on the kitchen island's butcher block. “And it had a Chesterton area code. One of the phone calls lasted for almost an hour! You can't tell me that wasn't the number of the little jerk Clarissa ran off with!”

Keith stared at Lauren and Dawn, who sat on stools on the opposite side of the kitchen island. “What did you guys find out?”

“She withdrew a cash advance of three hundred dollars at an ATM in Great Falls last night,” Dawn said. She shrugged. “Nothing else after that. Sorry, I don't have more.”

“That's okay,” Keith assured. “We'll pick up the trail somewhere else.”

“I think I found something,” Lauren ventured quietly. “I saw a purchase for two plane tickets for Delta Airlines dated last night.”

Cynthia grabbed her chest. She gulped for air. “
Plane tickets?
You mean . . . you mean they're flying somewhere?”

Lauren nodded. “Another purchase was for a hotel in Las Vegas.”

Cynthia slowly lowered her forehead to the wooden surface. “Oh, my God! So she
is
going through with it! My only daughter is going to get married at some tacky drive-thru chapel on the Las Vegas Strip!” She closed her eyes. “Why is this happening to me?
Why is this happening?”

“Calm down, Cynthia,” Keith said. “At least we know where she's going . . . and we may be able to stop her before she goes through with it.”

“How?”
Cynthia shouted, raising her head and glaring at him. “Clarissa won't even answer my phone calls! She knows I'm going to tell her to come home. I'd probably have to physically stop her from putting a ring on her finger, and how the hell am I supposed to do that? I won't make it to Vegas in time!”

“Well, maybe the boy's parents can stop them,” Keith insisted. “Maybe they can talk
him
out of it.”

All the sisters fell silent.

“What do you mean, baby?” Stephanie asked as she finished the last of her sandwich.

“I got a hit on the name Jared Walker,” Keith explained. “He got a speeding ticket in Chesterton three months ago. It listed his name, but it also listed the name of the person who owned the car. It had the car's registration. It was a Ford Taurus registered to Korey Walker of Langley Court. I bet one hundred bucks he's the boy's father.”

Cynthia blinked. She gazed at Keith, dumbfounded. “What name did you say?”

“Korey Walker.” Keith paused. “Why? Does the name sound familiar?”

Cynthia's lips tightened and so did her fists. Her puffy eyes narrowed into thin slits. It was such a common last name, she hadn't even considered the possibility that this boy could be Korey's son, but it seemed that was the case.

“Yes. Yes, the name sounds
very
familiar. Give me the address on that registration. I need to pay someone a visit.”