The Name of This Book Is Secret (18 page)

“How do you know? You haven’t met her—have you?” Cass asked, momentarily unsure whether they were talking about the Skelton Sisters’ mother or her own.

“No, of course not,” Ms. Mauvais laughed. “I just thought—well she got married, didn’t she? And what man would marry a woman with ears like yours?”

Suddenly, Cass could feel herself burning with shame and anger and a deep sort of hatred. She was certain her ears had never been so red. But Ms. Mauvias appeared not to notice.

“Well, you don’t have to decide now. Come—” She grasped Cass by the arm, making it impossible for her to even think about looking for Benjamin. “It’s almost time for dinner. And we have a surprise guest this evening.”

Who was Ms. Mauvais’s surprise guest?

Take a guess.

I’ll give you a hint: it wasn’t Gloria. As a surprise she’d already been spoiled, anyway.

Here’s another idea: what if the surprise guest was
a real Skelton Sister
? It’s just plausible enough. After all, the Skelton Sisters had been to the Midnight Sun several times before. Or so Dr. L said.

The complications that ensued would no doubt be very entertaining. I can just imagine it now: Ms. Mauvais saying to Cass, “Look who’s here, it’s your sister!” Cass starting to say that she didn’t have a sister, then remembering who she was supposed to be. The real Skelton Sister acting confused, asking what this was all about.

Cass would have to think very fast to avoid being exposed as a fraud. She might claim that she was actuall-y a half sister of the Skelton Sisters, and that she was kept secret even from them. Or she might claim that her sister really did know her, but that the sister had had an accident, and now suffered from amnesia.

Perhaps Cass would be so successful in her ruse that she would convince the Skelton Sister that they really were sisters. Now, that would be something!

Alas, Ms. Mauvais’s surprise guest was not a Skelton Sister. It was someone far less surprising—at least if you’ve been following the story.

Less surprising. But more gratifying, I hope.

An elaborate, castle-shaped tent had been erected for dinner. It held three rooms altogether; and not until Cass followed Ms. Mauvais all the way into the third did she see the spiky-haired boy sitting on a cushion in the corner.

Yes, you were right, the surprise guest was none other than Max-Ernest—and Cass, for one, felt extremely grateful when she saw him.

No longer angry at him, she was aware only of how lonely and scared she’d been since their partnership had ended. Had Ms. Mauvais not been standing nearby, Cass might have run and thrown her arms around her long-lost friend. (Well, knowing Cass, she wouldn’t throw her arms around Max-Ernest under any circumstances, but that was sort of how she felt.) As it was, she was afraid even to say hello. She didn’t want Ms. Mauvais to know she recognized him.

Max-Ernest, also, was uncharacteristically silent. As Cass settled onto the cushion next to his, he gave her one of those quick, intentionally fake smiles that look like they are made by fingers pulling on the sides of your mouth. He seemed nervous, but that was only to be expected, thought Cass.

What was he doing there, anyway? How did he get in?

Suddenly, Cass felt panic rising in her stomach like sickness.

“Surprised, Miss Skelton?—or should I say,
Cassandra?
” asked Ms. Mauvais.

“Who—who’s Cassandra?” she stammered.

“Oh, don’t be silly. Did you really think we were so easily fooled?” Ms. Mauvais said cheerfully. “I know, I should have said something when you called. But I didn’t want to scare you off. I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot the first time we met. Please will you let me make it up to you now?”

Cass forced herself to nod. She could hardly sit up straight, she was so dizzy.

Ms. Mauvais smiled in delight—if you could call it a smile. (Her face barely moved but she showed a little more of her too-white teeth.) “Thank you for giving me a second chance! I so want us to be friends.”

Cass tried to smile back but she couldn’t. She was wondering whether she was going to puke.

“Good! Now, I’m going to go find the others,” said Ms. Mauvais. I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do.”

She placed her hand on Max-Ernest’s head, and ruffled his hair. “Have you ever seen such a handsome young man?” she asked. Then she leaned over and kissed Max-Ernest on the forehead. “I’ll be back in a second, darling, I promise.”

She walked away, leaving a lipstick mark on his face. And a look of total shock on Cass’s.

Before Cass could absorb the full awfulness of what she’d just witnessed, Max-Ernest started speaking in a rush. She’d never seen him so wound up.

“Don’t worry, she’s not my girlfriend or anything, that’s just the way she is—all kissy and stuff. It’s kind of embarrassing, but she’s really nice, once you get to know her. Seriously, I know you’re going to like her—she’s even nicer than Amber! Dr. L’s pretty nice, too. He says he’s going to cure my condition. They use an ancient Egyptian method. Technically, it’s a lobotomy but it’s nonsurgical. Instead of cutting your head open, they enter through your nose with a long straw. And since there’s no feeling in your brain, it’s practically painless! How ’bout that? Afterward, Ms. Mauvais’s going to take me to Paris—that’s where she’s from. I’m sure you could come, too, if I asked her—she’ll do anything I want. What do you think, do you want to go to Paris?”

Cass stared at him, not blinking. She thought perhaps she’d been drugged, and she was having an hallucination. That would explain the nausea.

Max-Ernest looked at her expectantly. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Did they hypnotize you? Is that why you’re acting like this?” Cass asked, finally realizing that she was, alas, perfectly clearheaded. “’Cause I hope so, for your sake.”

“What do you mean? Acting like what?”

“Never mind,” Cass sighed. “How did you get here?”

“I made a reservation. Just like you.”

“You made a reservation?” Cass repeated. “And they just let you come? What did you tell them?”

Max-Ernest squirmed in his seat. “Well, nothing really, just—”

A horrible thought struck Cass. “Did you tell them you had the notebook?!”

“I still have it! I haven’t given it to them yet,” said Max-Ernest defensively. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. They’re not how you think they—”

“It doesn’t matter?! Have you totally forgotten about Pietro? About Luciano? About Benjamin?”

“C’mon, Cass. I know what you think, but think about it, have they done anything bad to you? I mean, since you’ve been here.”

“Well, no, not yet, but—”

“And they knew who you were all along, right?”

“Yeah, I guess—”

“See. How ’bout that? They’re not evil then, after all....You know, it’s OK to be wrong sometimes. Everybody is. Even me.”

Cass shook her head. “Now, I
know
you were hypnotized!”

Before the matter could be resolved one way or the other, Gloria sailed into the tent, her round face beaming. (Notice I didn’t say she wouldn’t be at dinner—just that she wasn’t the surprise guest.)

“Cass!” cried the real estate agent. “Aren’t you going to say hello to your old friend, Gloria? Or don’t you recognize me? I know, I look twenty years younger, don’t I? And twenty pounds lighter!”

Gloria twirled around so she could be seen from all sides.

Cass nodded mutely. No doubt about it, Gloria was half the size she was before. More remarkable still was how friendly the real estate agent was acting. Cass wasn’t sure she hadn’t liked Gloria better in her earlier, meaner incarnation. Now she was harder to ignore.

“Isn’t this place just too, too fabu?” Gloria continued. “True, the Egyptian theme might be a little exotic for some. But the setting! As they say in my business—location, location, location! And the treatments! Heavenly! And don’t get me started on those elixirs. Have you ever tasted anything more delicious?”

She paused briefly for Cass to nod in agreement. Then went on:

“Remember that lucky day when we all met? Well, Dr. L gave me this itty-bitty one to drink afterward. And I was hooked. I wanted more the very next day. More, more, more! He said it was too early, but I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I followed him all the way to the spa to get it. And am I glad I did! They work miracles here—!”

“Miracles have very little to do with it, Ms. Fortun-e.”

It was Dr. L himself, joining them under the tent. He looked as cool and composed as ever—if a tad irritated by Gloria.

Gloria pouted like a chastened schoolgirl. “I’m sorry, Doctor. Your little Gloria is just so grateful for everything you’ve done. Everything you do—”

“Everything we do is here is based on science,” said Dr. L curtly. “Not perhaps what you think of as science. But the True Science. The One Science.”

“What kind of science is that?” asked Max-Ernest, who was under the impression that he already knew all the kinds of sciences that there were.

“The science of the essence. The science of which all others are part,” said Dr. L. “Everything on Earth springs from the same essential substance. Once you find it, anything is possible. Turning lead to gold. Old to young. Even turning frumpy real estate agents into beautiful women.”

Cass looked involuntarily at Gloria, but Gloria didn’t seem to register the insult—she was so smitten with Dr. L.

“How wonderful!” she said. “What’s this science called? Is it Egyptian?”

Ms. Mauvais, who had just reentered the tent, cleared her throat. “I believe our dinner is here,” she said.

Even Cass, who was feeling slightly less sick, but all the more upset about the situation in which she found herself, had to admit the dinner table looked magnificent. It was covered with a cloth sewn entirely of crimson flower petals, each petal lush and perfect and not a bit bruised or ripped. On this luxurious crimson bed sat a dozen crystal candlesticks of varying heights as well as numerous glittering urns and platters of exotic, Oriental design. Each place setting came with a pair of gleaming golden chopsticks and ornate sets of silverware—tiny forks, oddly curved spoons, needle-like knives—that had the look of ancient surgical instruments.

On the whole, the table looked less like a dinner table than a shrine to some jealous and demanding god. This effect was only heightened when the kitchen staff began to bring in the food—so solemnly and silently they might have been making offerings in a temple rather than serving dinner.

Indeed, whenever a new dish appeared, Ms. Mauvais described it with an almost religious reverence.

“The base of this custard is the rendered cartilage of a tiny marsupial that lives under rocks on an island in the South Pacific,” she said of the first course, which arrived in individual thimble-size serving cups. “Excellent source of calcium. Also prized by fisherman for its waterproofing properties...I do hope you aren’t vegetarians.”

“The pale blue dust you see is pollen from a flower that blooms only at the elevation of eleven thousand feet and only after a very long winter,” she said about the topping on a roll that looked like a powdered donut but which was anything but sweet. “Some indigenous peoples believe it sharpens the intellect. Certainly, it is very helpful in clearing the sinuses.”

“Bear liver sautéed in codfish oil,” she announced when a particularly unattractive lump arrived in front of each diner. “A dish beloved by the Vikings. The reason they could survive so long in the cold. You may find it a little gamey.”

Before they ate any given dish, Cass and Max-Ernest were instructed to close their eyes and smell it. “Remember, what you experience as taste is mostly scent,” said Ms. Mauvais. “By itself, the tongue can only identify four flavors—or is it five?”

“Five,” replied Dr. L. “I believe scientists recently discovered a taste for fat.”

After smelling their food, they were to examine it closely from all angles, so as to appreciate any subtleties of color and shape.

“Should we listen to it, too?” asked Max-Ernest, who was clearly hanging on Ms. Mauvais’s every word.

“Well, that depends on whether your dish is making any noise, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” she responded. “Why don’t you give it a try?”