Page 31 of The Curse of Indy Moore (The Cursed Duology #1)

“I heard you, which is why I am telling you to make a purchase, not an item you need, but one you want.” He snatched his notebook to flip to the earlier pages. “Carline mentioned that, didn’t she? Not being able to determine the difference between want and need. Humor me, and make a purchase.”

I squirmed, feeling the chair somehow become too small, the room too suffocating. “Do you genuinely believe this will help?”

“Yes, demons react to our emotions, to what we perceive as greatness or faults. What they seek, how they seek it, it’s all a puzzle leading back to the root of what they want, and for her to mention that means something.

Trying is our best way of discovering if we’re onto something.

Miss Beamy will join you to ensure you go through with it. ”

Miss Beamy returned to lounge on the desk. “Try to evade me, and you will not like the consequences. ”

Mr. Hawthorne gently stroked her head. She rubbed against him. They were partners in crime, and it was utterly unfair.

“Fine.” I snatched the pouch and waved it menacingly in his direction. “But I am not getting an entirely new wardrobe. It would get ruined as soon as I went home. I am not being so wasteful.”

Whatever I said had him scribbling in his notebook. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Then he offered that annoying, charming smile. The imperfect one was better.

“Enjoy your day,” he called as I almost slammed the door shut until Miss Beamy hissed. Her eyes dared me to take a chance of catching her tail in the door. I would do no such thing and waited for the true sovereign of this kingdom to saunter out of the room, then I slammed the door.

I didn’t know what he was up to, but since it had to do with my curse, I would try. We could be a step closer to a cure, which was what I needed now more than ever.

Miss Beamy went to my bedroom, where a new dress waited on the bed.

He was fast. The dress had a puffier skirt than the last one but the same long white sleeves.

The skirt had a brilliant blue shade, sparkling as if the sun always hit it perfectly, and the neckline hung a little lower, heart-shaped with matching blue buttons down the center.

I didn’t bother checking if Ivy locked the closet. The house likely had, and knowing Mr. Hawthorne, he would complain if anyone saw a woman associated with him wearing less than impressive attire. I put on my hat and nearly left before spotting Baxter’s unopened letter on my desk.

“Oh, I haven’t written back to either of them,” I said to myself.

Falling into the chair, I wrote to my aunt first. There weren’t many updates to give, but she would be pleased to know Mr. Hawthorne was officially on my case.

I certainly didn’t tell her about Carline’s illusions.

She shouldn’t have to worry about that. Once done, I settled the letter into an envelope.

Baxter’s letter sat unopened. For whatever reason, I felt awful looking at it, like I had done wrong .

Miss Beamy waltzed onto the desk. “Why are you dawdling? Has the curse taken your ability to read? Canines are not the brightest bunch, you know.”

I laughed at her. “I can read. I am wondering if I want to read this one.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

I tapped the letter. “It’s from a man back in Westshire. We broke up, sort of. He said he wanted to try again.”

Miss Beamy made a snorting noise then licked her paw to clean her face. “Sounds like you have your answer. Throw his letter in the trash.”

“What? No, that’s rude, and I, well, I agreed we could try again.”

She gave me a look that screamed disappointment.

“It’s complicated.” I had no idea why I was defending myself to a cat.

“Sure it is.” Her tail flailed back and forth, continuously smacking against Baxter’s letter.

I swiftly opened it before she decided to snatch the letter and drop it in her fish pond. Miss Beamy said nothing when I slid the paper out to lie flat on the desk.

Dear Indy,

I fear I am still not comfortable knowing you are staying with a strange artificer, but we are lucky to have someone to help.

Don’t forget that he is using you, though.

This project of his will pay his bills and then some.

He cares more about that than your well-being.

He can’t be trusted—none of them can—so be careful, and keep your eyes on him.

I hope to hear good news from you soon. Once you return, let’s go on another picnic. You always loved those.

Love,

Baxter

Love? He never said that in the year we dated. The night he broke up with me, he called me boring, believing our relationship wasn’t leading anywhere.

My heart yearned to believe that Baxter always cared. He made a mistake, and we could go back to what we were. My mind said otherwise, as did Miss Beamy. She watched me with that same disappointment.

In the end, my heart yearned for another chance. A chance to prove I could be more than the girl always abandoned, and a hope to push me forward. Once the curse was dealt with, I’d see Baxter again, and we’d be together. It would work out. But I still didn’t know what to write to him.

“Are you not going to reply?” Miss Beamy asked.

I thought and thought, staring at that word Love, then set the letter aside.

“He’ll get all the updates from my aunt,” I replied. Baxter would understand. I shared all the updates with Aunt Agnes, and I opened the envelope to leave a brief note for her to tell Baxter everything. It was pointless to send identical letters.

Miss Beamy and I headed downstairs toward the gardens when Otis stepped into the hall, supposedly from his bedroom if the green door painted with wildflowers was any indication. He wore that slightly too small petticoat of his and a newspaper boy hat to match.

“Indy, good morning!” he declared, waltzing up to me, then frowning. “Or not so good morning. Does anything trouble you?”

I showed him the coin pouch. “Mr. Hawthorne has insisted that I go into town and make a purchase.”

He also suggested I go with Otis, but I saw no reason to waste his time. I’d grab something quickly then return.

“That is troublesome for you?” he inquired.

“I do not want his money.”

“You heard him yesterday. Please, spend some of it in his stead.” Otis glanced at an open door leading to a room of furniture. Only furniture.

Either Mr. Hawthorne was an expert at puzzles or his enchantment was because the furniture pieces were stacked perfectly.

From chairs to desks to shelving to tables, there was an endless supply so he could swap out one style for another, or simply keep them in there to gawk at occasionally?

I honestly did not know why he filled the rooms with junk, if he ever used any of it, or if it was there for the sake of it.

Regardless, the open door was threatening, practically goading us to step closer so we could breathe on it wrong and furniture would tumble to bury us for all eternity .

“I suppose he needs a reason to sustain from any future purchases,” I said, earning a weak smile from Otis. Then that smile spread.

“Would you like a little revenge?”

I perked up at the suggestion. “How so?”

“Why don’t you join me for a luncheon with Rooke’s older brother?”