“We always believed the curse came from the hangings,” Kant said. “That Ezra Hull and his family were victims of it.”

“That might still be true,” Margot said. She shrugged, uncomfortable. “I might be wrong about the curse starting with the murders. And that’s why I wanted to talk to Nora. To reference some dates.”

She pointed to the date written below the entry. November 26, 1772.

“Ah,” Nora murmured. “Yes, that’s the last day the family was ever seen. We celebrate the winery’s founding each year, but I’ve never paid that much attention to the date the original Hulls went missing, except when guests ask.”

“Turns out it might be important,” Margot said, and the words tasted bitter on her tongue. “It’s the twenty-sixth of November today.”

41

“Today’s the anniversary,” Nora said, frowning at the faded pages.

Margot nodded. “And that’s something I needed to check. Was the twenty-sixth the day the family was last seen or the day they were reported missing?”

“Last seen,” Nora said, glancing up.

“Okay.” Margot tried to smile to hide the deep uneasiness running through her. “That’s what I was afraid of. Esther used the previous day’s date in her journal. She went to bed on the twenty-sixth but died in the early hours of the twenty-seventh. Which means, if I’m right, the curse is going to reach its peak tonight.”

“The anniversary of the deaths.” Nora, frowning, turned away from the journal. “It makes sense. Does this happen every year? I would have thought we’d make the connection before now—”

“No,” Kant said. “I’ve noticed things become slightly more tense toward the end of the year, but nothing like this. Not in the thirty years I’ve been here.”

“I think it’s because this year’s anniversary is more important than most,” Margot said. “Seventeen seventy-two. That’s exactly two hundred and fifty years ago. A quarter millennium since they died.”

“Oh” was all Nora said. Kant turned aside, his eyes heavy.

“It’s the connection I was looking for,” Margot said. She pulled a stool out from under the counter and perched on its edge, feet crossed at the ankles. “I wanted to know why the curse is so much worse right now. And, well…it’s because my ancestor killed a family and stole their land exactly two and a half centuries ago.”

Nora turned away, disappearing into the store’s back room. Margot heard a filing cabinet open, then Nora returned, carrying a thick binder. She opened it on the counter, next to the journal, and began thumbing through.

Kant nodded toward it. “Is that…?”

“Births, deaths, and marriages.” She kept thumbing. “We have a summary somewhere. Ah—here. Yes.”