Page 61 of The Curse of Indy Moore
I didn’t intend to imply anything, but based on his scowl, he took that to heart. I worried I offended him, but his hand caught mine. He tugged me toward the back wall, where the tiaras glistened. Miss Beamy returned to her sun ray when I wished she would stay.
“That is an understandable worry. Greed is consuming,” he whispered with eyes cast downward. “But you barely have any desires at all, so let me repeat, I do not believe you have to worry about that. Now, pick one.”
“Did you hear a word I said?” I retreated, and to Mr. Hawthorne’s credit, he let go.
“No, actually. It seems I have a wad of cotton in my ear. Would you care to take a peek?”
I rolled my eyes.
“A life of extravagance for you and your family,” he said, and the words pierced me. I froze in his grasp. He lingered behind me, a hand on each of my shoulders.They weren’t nearly as heavy as his words. “You want your family to have this life, though refuse to accept that you want it, too.”
“I don’t want this life. I just…”
“Want better for them” he finished.
I was grateful we weren’t in front of the mirror. If I could see him, I might break from the humiliation, this consuming shame that made me want to run, to hide.
“You can choose,” he said. “Carline saw this within you.”
“A weakness,” I growled.
“What you perceive to be a weakness. Cease viewing your desires as a weakness and Carline cannot use them against you. That is the point of this—an experiment to see if, little by little, you can fight what she’s using against you and escape her curse.”
He chose a tiara when I wouldn’t. He removed my hat, making me flinch. Without the enchantment, my ears ached from the city noise. However, the shop muffled most of it, so it was bearable. Then he set the tiara on my head. I didn’t want to look, so my eyes shut when he nudged me toward the mirror.
“Don’t act shy now. Take a look, sweetheart.” His words warmed my cheeks, and his fingers danced across my shoulders.
I opened my eyes to see exactly what that little girl wanted, a grand and otherworldly woman, even if the tiara didn’t match the clothes I wore. Inlaid with crystals and pearls, it sparkled atop my head, rounded with a star shape at its center. There was a sense of beauty and wonder that made one short of breath, that put a wet sheen in my eyes.
“What would I ever wear this for? It serves nothing,” I asked, even if I was in awe, even if I wanted to cry because Mom wasn’t there to see. I finally had something that childhood me so desperately wanted, that Mom tried so hard to achieve, and she would never be there to witness it.
“It serves you. Isn’t that enough?” he replied.
I wasn’t so sure. I felt like I was playing right into her hands, that accepting I wanted anything like that meant I was considering Carline’s offer.
He leaned in so our cheeks brushed. Seeing us side by side in the mirror, I dared to believe we made quite the pair.
“Get the tiara, Miss Moore. It will not be the death of you. In fact, it might spare you.”
I wasn’t confident in that. I wasn’t confident in anything of late, but I took the tiara to the counter, where the shopkeeper accepted Mr. Hawthorne’s payment. While the tiara was wrapped, he disappeared to gawk at a pair of earrings that belonged to him the moment the shop owner said, “Oh, those are on sale, dearie!”
The earrings and a new ring fell on the counter to be wrapped, too. Seeing him purchase them so easily made me a little sick, even more so after the shopkeeper handed over the bag with a ribboned box. I imagined dropping the tiara, watching the jewels shatter, or losing it entirely.
Taking a deep breath, I willed my nerves to steady. Mr. Hawthorne exited the shop first, where the low-hanging sun garnered our attention. Mr. Hawthorne tried hailing a carriage, but the streets were packed, and no one paid us any mind. He took my hand after curling Miss Beamy under his arm.
“It seems we will have to run,” he said.
“I am too old for this,” Miss Beamy grumbled, but snuggled closer to his chest.
With that, Mr. Hawthorne went into a sprint. I stumbled over my feet, holding the box close to my chest as he took us through the streets. Slate flew ahead, dropping here or there to steal treats from people’s hands, and snatched a sock off someone’s laundry line. But we made it to the transit hall without issue and with time to spare, halting upon the summoning circle that would lead us back.
Mr. Hawthorne took both my hands, his palms so soft against mine. “Next time, I expect you to shop on your own.”
“But you have far more expertise in matters of fashion. It would be a shame not to put your knowledge to use,” I argued.
He gave my favorite crooked smile. “I love flattery, but it won’t always work.”
“I think it will.”
