Free Cassidy Jones and the Secret Formula by Elise Stokes

Mom appreciatively.
    She smiled appreciatively back. “Thank you, Emery. Cassidy helped make it,” she added graciously.
    “I only grated the cheese,” I clarified, not so graciously.
    Emery fought back a grin.
    Glad to provide entertainment, boy genius, I thought, scowling and stabbing a fork into the lasagna on my plate.
    Dad winked at Mom. “Lizzie and Cassy, the lasagna is incredible. Thank you.”
    Feeling compelled, Nate and Chazz agreed and thanked us.
    My quiet response was to spear another piece of lasagna.
    “This is nice,” Emery commented, looking around the table. “Do you always eat together?”
    “We do,” Mom answered, smiling at Dad.
    Dad returned the smile.
    “Where do you eat?” Chazz asked, looking at Emery curiously.
    Smiling pleasantly, he answered, “It’s usually only my mom and me, and neither of us cook, so we have most meals at the university cafeteria.”
    “Oh.” Chazz thought for a moment. “Where does your dad eat?”
    My fork paused midway to my mouth.
    Alarmed, Dad and Mom glanced at one another.
    Emery quickly took note of their reactions. “Really, I don’t mind answering,” he assured us, smiling. “My dad is away most of the time. I really don’t know where he has his meals.”
    Oh, that is sooo sad, I thought, softening.
    “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
     
    Tears…Really?
     
     
    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