Page 54 of The Curse of Indy Moore
I caught the bag. There were more coins inside than I had seen in my life. Frowning, I declared, “I said I wouldn’t go into town today.”
“And I said you need a new wardrobe.”
“Don’t you have other dresses to enchant? Surely another unfortunate woman left her clothes here.”
“Fortunate, you mean.”
“No, I meant what I said.”
He bit back a witty retort, or rather undoubtedly, an inappropriate one. He must have remembered his own rule of acting professionally. Miss Beamy made a strange noise that might have been a snicker. She jumped down to drink from her water bowl in the corner.
“We do not know how long you will be staying here, and I imagine we will travel frequently to the archives. While I have some clothes here that would suit you, it would be better to get your own,” he argued.
“I still don’t want your money.” I dropped the pouch on the desk, glaring at it like it had been the thing to curse me.
A memory resurfaced, one of many I tried to cram far in the recesses of my mind. Father came home with a purse of coins, claiming he got a promotion. Mother must have thought he was lying. He worked at the same canning house most of his life. They didn’t hand out promotions. They brought in relatives or family friends to work the higher-paying jobs, those already far out of poverty. But I was too young to think anything of it, believing for a moment that we may rise from the dirt. In the end, the money wasn’t his.
The memory dissipated at the sound of Mr. Hawthorne’s exaggerated gasp. He feigned offense with a delicate hand pressed against his cheek. “Is my money not good enough for you?”
“I am no pity venture,” I replied bitterly.
“Come now, I am merely offering you a day to distract yourself and help my eyes. Your fashion taste is abysmal, if one could even call it that.”
“Says the man who had a room with a burnt orange carpet.”
He crossed his arms. “It was a choice that I admit was not the best and does not deter from the argument at hand.”
I shook a hand in the direction of the pouch. “This may mean nothing to you, but it does to me. I can take care of myself, and spending unnecessary money to relieve my stress will do the exact opposite.”
He changed in an instant. The humorous atmosphere fell serious. His attention on me became so intense that I didn’t have the nerves to meet his eyes. But then he was in front of me with such speed, I couldn’t react. His hand caught my chin. His thumb barely brushed my bottom lip.
My throat went dry. “What are you doing?”
“Curious,” he said with my image reflected in his eyes. They were hypnotizing, a green enchantment more dazzling than any gem. He departed, and I cursed myself for trying to lean toward him. My hands held fast to the chair’s arms to keep me in place.
“Take the coins,” he said. “Make a purchase for yourself.”
“I just said—”
“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.
