Page 70 of The Cinderella Secret
“Dining room,” said Jackson. “No reason to tote boxes upstairs.”
“Jackson,” said Eleanor, coming out of the solarium where she usually liked to eat breakfast, “what on earth are you doing up so early?”
“Errand for Aiden,” said Jackson with a smile.
Eleanor frowned as if trying to parse his meaning. “Aiden is taking the DevEntier matter very seriously.”
“Yes,” agreed Jackson.
“That seems like an unexpected development,” she said.
“Aiden likes to be full of surprises,” said Jackson and a smile quirked up the corners of Eleanor’s mouth.
“Indeed, he does. Well, I’m glad you can support each other.”
It was a smooth, political kind of sentiment that should have been meaningless, but for once Jackson sensed the sincerity behind it. “We do what we can,” said Jackson. Which was a meaningless phrase of his own, but he didn’t know what else to say.
Thirty minutes later he was standing at Evan’s door with a coffee in each hand. Evan opened the door and looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Why do I feel like whatever you’re about to say is going to suck?”
“Because I come bearing gifts?” Jackson suggested hoisting the coffee.
“Clear indication of suspicious behavior,” agreed Evan. “Come on in. I’ve only got five minutes though. I was about to leave for work.”
He went to the table where the newspaper and the remains of breakfast could be seen and picked up his suit jacket off the back of the chair, pulling it on.
“Yeah…” said Jackson.
Evan sighed and began to take the jacket back off. “What is it?”
“I just talked to Aiden. Apparently, sometime last night he discovered new evidence that DevEntier falsified records.”
“Charlie,” growled Evan.
“Don’t know at this point. Aiden promised to fill us in later. But, um, he also said he got hit over the head.”
“Jackson!”
“What?”
“You’re supposed to prevent this kind of thing.”
“I can’t help him if he sneaks out of the house and intentionally avoids my guy.” Evan snorted. “Anyway, he sounded OK and he said he was getting an MRI, but…”
“Wait, that wasn’t the bad news?”
“No, the bad news is that he wants us to go out to the storage unit and bring back any DevEntier records.”
Evan groaned. “I hate that place. It’s like someone dumped my entire childhood into one horrible tin can and shook it up to frothy badness that will explode in my face at any moment.”
“Sorry,” said Jackson, trying not to smile at the metaphor or reveal how excited he was that Evan felt safe enough to give voice to the feeling. “Um, I brought coffee?”
“Fine,” said Evan with a sigh, grabbing the coffee. “I’m going to need to change and to call work.”
“Cool,” said Jackson, eyeing the remains of Evan’s breakfast.
Evan looked sourly from his breakfast to Jackson and back. “Do you want some eggs?”
“If you have some already made…”
