Cassidy Jones and the Secret Formula (11 page)

“Where is he?”

Dad cleared his throat. “Chazz, that is none of our business.”

I was relieved when Emery said, “I really don’t mind, Mr. Jones. Chazz, from what I understand, he’s in China. He’s working there.”

From what he understands?
I asked myself, staring hard at his placid face.
What the heck does that mean?

The statement grabbed Dad’s attention, too. He watched Emery intently.

“What’s his job?” Chazz pressed on.

“My dad is an accountant. Most of his clients are overseas.”

An accountant? Really?
My danger assessment lost ground. How threatening could an accountant be?

Apparently, Mom agreed, smiling with satisfaction.

“What’s that?” Chazz pressed.

Emery looked thoughtful. “Let me think how to explain. Basically, an accountant helps people manage their money better and cleans up their financial messes.”

“Is your dad good at cleaning up messes?”

He smiled at Chazz like they shared an inside joke. “My dad is
very
good at cleaning up messes.”

My eyes darted to Dad.

Staring at Emery, he rubbed his chin.

“Sorry about your mom,” Chazz blurted, his round face sympathetic.

Coughing, I choked on the air I gulped in, cautiously glancing at Emery.

“Thank you,” he answered evenly. Though his voice betrayed no emotion, I noticed, ever so slightly, the controlled calm leave his eyes. In its place I saw frustration, and then anger.

Dad noticed the change, too. I think he had been waiting for it. Leaning forward, squarely looking Emery in the eye, he said, “Emery, I want you to know I will do everything in my power to find your mother.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jones,” he replied with surprise.

As Dad smiled at Emery, we, his family, stared at him, understanding Dad’s promise. His word was golden. He would do
everything
in his power to find Professor Phillips. I shivered considering this.

To lighten things, Mom began to tell a humorous story. Grateful for the subject change, the rest of the family engaged with her. They were ready for lightness.

While Mom talked, I looked up at Emery, meeting his gaze. He had been watching me. Curiosity overruled insecurity as I studied his black eyes, seeing the anger and frustration still smoldering.

Well, we have that in common,
I thought. At that moment, an insight flashed through my mind, snuffing out apprehension.
We’re both trapped alone in a nightmare, and maybe we don’t have to be.
Suddenly, I saw not a threat but a potential ally in him.

Eight

No, not again
…

Pancakes lured me from sleep. While easing awake, I was sure this would be another scent trick. Tuning in to the kitchen, my kitchen, assured me this was no trick.

Pancakes are on the horizon,
I thought, stretching and inhaling deeply. It occurred to me then smells seemed more intense, distinct, than they had yesterday.
Is it my imagination,
I wondered,
or am I getting worse?
Pushing down panic, I climbed out of bed.

While throwing on jeans and a T-shirt, I revisited the decision I had come to before dropping off to sleep last night. Today, I would take Emery into my confidence. Hopefully, he would have answers. Hopefully, he could help me.

I walked into the kitchen, trying to ignore the fact that I could smell more than pancakes.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Dad greeted cheerfully, flipping pancakes at the range. “Pancakes always get you out of bed. Are you ready for these?” He offered me a plate with a couple of pancakes hot off the grill.

“Thanks.” I took the plate, feeling saliva collect in my mouth. What Dad said was true, but pancakes didn’t usually make me drool like a Saint Bernard.

What is happening to me?

At the table, I sort of grunted at the boys and grabbed the syrup. No rudeness intended; my strange pancake obsession required full concentration. Stuffing a huge gooey piece in my mouth, I almost moaned. It was like every tastebud on my tongue sang. Chomping down on the delectable morsel, I looked up from my plate and into Emery’s amused face.

“They’re good, aren’t they?” he asked, staring at my packed cheeks.

I swallowed hard. “Terrific.”

“
Very
ladylike,” Nate teased.

Cramming in another huge piece, I gave him a close-lipped smile, appreciating the harassment. It made me feel less crazed.

Nate nodded approvingly. “Nice.” His comeback would have been similar.

“Cassidy, please pass the syrup,” Chazz asked politely.

Apparently, he thought someone at the table had to show decorum. His salivating sister sure wasn’t. However, his attempt would have been more effective if his face and pajama top weren’t already drenched in syrup.

While handing him the bottle, I was careful not to make contact with his sticky hands.

“Thank you.” He smiled, syrup dripping from his chin.

Mom carried four glasses to the table. “Orange juice?” she offered.

Setting the glasses down and taking a seat, Mom thoughtfully watched Emery sipping the juice. “Emery, I’ve been thinking about tomorrow—”

I tensed, knowing that tone.

“Nate and Cassidy will be at school,” she continued. “It wouldn’t be much fun for you to spend the day here with me. I thought maybe you’d like to be Nate’s guest tomorrow.”

My mouth dropped open.
Is she insane? He’d be a total laughingstock.
I glimpsed alarm cross Emery’s face and interpreted the look to mean he wasn’t so keen on the idea either. I felt compelled to intervene on his behalf.

“Mom, you can’t just bring someone to school with you,” I corrected, giving her a look that said,
Be reasonable.

“Well, of course you can.”

“Why would you think that? I’ve never known anyone to bring a guest to school.”

She gave me a determined smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll work it out.”

“Emery has already graduated,” I blurted out. Mentally, I added a big
oops
at the end.

Of course, Nate caught the
oops
. He decided to answer Mom’s questioning look. “Emery told us,
in my room
…” He briefly paused to let the emphasis sink in. “…that he has already graduated from high school.”

Trying to appear innocent, I took a bite of pancake while Nate continued, “He’s also graduated from college. Did you get that, too, Cassidy?” He grinned challengingly.

Grinning back, I took the challenge. “Yes, I did.”

Nate laughed. “You have no pride.”

I shrugged.

Mom and Dad were so surprised by Emery’s academic achievements that they didn’t catch my spying confession.

“Is this true, Emery?” Mom asked.

Emery summarized his accomplishments. He presented them carefully, weighing each word. He didn’t appear embarrassed or self-conscious. I think he just regretted the subject had come up.

Mom and Dad were stunned. They understood the accomplishment better than we kids did.

“Amazing achievement, Emery,” Dad said. “You are a determined young man.”

“And real smart,” Chazz added perceptively.

Though astonished, Mom wasn’t distracted from her goal. “Regardless, you would still have fun going to school with Nate and Cassidy.”

“Would you mind if I thought about it, Mrs. Jones?” Emery asked.

The way Emery said this gave me the feeling that he had no intention of being our “guest” at school or spending the day with my mom.
What you got planned, boy genius?
I wondered, studying his neutral expression.

“Of course. The decision is completely up to you.” Mom smiled at him.

The doorbell rang.

“Chazz, would you let Ben in?” Dad asked.

As Chazz darted for the front door, I asked Dad, “Why is Ben here? I thought he was surfing today.”

“He’s planning on leaving after helping me with a few things.”

“You’re working today?” Nate asked in surprise.

Dad was usually a stickler about keeping Sundays “family time.” Only a humungous story-worthy event would normally make him sacrifice Sunday.

I opened my mouth to ask what they were working on, and then snapped it shut, catching my first whiff of Ben.
Funny I didn’t smell him yesterday at the police station,
I thought, feeling dread.
It isn’t my imagination. I am getting worse.

Ben walked into the kitchen, holding Chazz’s hand. “Hi, all,” he cheerfully greeted. “Cool, hotcakes.”

“Help yourself, Ben.” Mom smiled, getting up from the table.

With a towering stack, Ben flopped into the seat Mom had vacated. Thickly pouring on syrup, he took a generous bite. “Elizabeth, these are awesome.”

Rinsing dishes, Mom called to him. “Thanks, Ben, but Drake’s the chef today.”

Teasing, he gave Dad an incredulous look. “What? No, come on. Don’t tell me the guy can cook, too.”

“He can, Ben,” Chazz confirmed.

Ben grinned at him. “Well, Chazzy, if you say he can, he can. I know you’d never steer me wrong.”

Chazz beamed.

“Well, finish up,” Dad said to Ben. “We’ve got a lot to do.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Ben smiled, shoving pancake into his mouth.

“So what are you and Ben doing?” Nate asked.

Dad glanced at Emery. “We’re checking up on some leads.”

All of us kids looked at him, understanding he was fulfilling his
everything
promise, even on a Sunday.

“Thank you, Mr. Jones and Ben,” Emery said, obviously touched. “Would you mind if I came along?”