Margot craned forward. Nora had opened to a ledger filled with small, neatly written names and dates. Nora ran her fingertip down the plastic protective screen, lips twitching as she silently read. Margot glanced toward the window. The sun was growing low.

Nora took a heavy breath as she looked up from the paper. “I think you’re right. The Hulls have always been followed by death. It’s sometimes hard to tell what comes from the regular kind of misfortune and what comes from the curse, since they’re all given natural causes: Fell into machinery. Drowned in creek. Kick to the head by a horse. But Ray and I have gotten pretty good at guessing which ones weren’t actually accidents. And a lot of them—a lot of them—are clustered at the fifty-year marks. Five in 1822, from illness. Another group in 1872: six died in a fire.”

“We never noticed the pattern,” Kant said softly.

“Because we never talk about the curse.” Nora, still bent over the page, frowned. “And the Hulls always had large families to make up for the deaths. In some ways, they had exceptional good luck. There were almost no recorded deaths during childbirth. Almost no infant mortality either, even back when it was more common. There were multiple lines of Hulls living in the house at a time during the eighteen hundreds.”

The blessing and the curse, wrapped around one another. For generations, my family has accepted that price.

“Tonight is the night Esther and her family died,” Margot said, speaking carefully. “Which means it’s going to be as bad as it can get. Unless I can find a way to break the curse.”

Nora glanced at the still-open journal. “You think she wants us to fulfill her last wish, to show her journal to the town?”

“That’s what I was hoping.” Margot swallowed thickly. “But I’m not so sure now. Six of the Hulls died that night. And I’m pretty sure all six of them brought this curse into existence.”

They were silent for a moment, staring at the old, age-faded pages. Then Kant said, “Trying won’t hurt.”

“No,” Nora said, suddenly decisive. “If there’s even a small chance—Margot, it’s too late to get people into the store to read the book today, but we have a website and social media pages. I can put the journal up on those.”

“Good.” Margot pushed the book toward her. “Scan the pages and write a transcript as well. Put it on the website’s front page. Boost the social media posts. She wants people to know what happened. We’ll spread the word as far as we can.”

“I’ll do that. Just wait a moment.” Nora took the book, holding it gently as she half walked, half ran into the back room.

The sounds of a scanner rose in the background. Margot ran her fingers across her still-damp hair as she tried to think.