“I’m honestly more worried about time,” I say, making her grimace. The new FOR SALE sign feels like an enormous clock ticking down our time to find the next letter. But we can’t have made it this far only to fail—Willow needs to know what happened between her mom and aunt. I, of all people, understand that.

“It says that the next letter is about them.” She picks up another piece of pizza, leaving a trail of gooey cheese in her wake. “Meaning it’s the most important one.”

“She really hasn’t told you anything about her and Sage?” Despite the fact that the conversation is revolving about a family curse, sharing a pizza with Willow is oddly normal. Like we’ve done it a hundred times before.

She shrugs. “Only that they haven’t been in touch for a long time. And the aunts said Sage betrayed my mom. But I have no idea what that means.”

She has cheese on her chin. Has cheese ever looked cute on a chin?

“Okay, let me see the letter again,” I say, wiping my hands on a napkin. I’ve read the letter maybe eight times now, but perhaps there’s something I missed.

She passes it to me, grabbing a napkin for her face. “I’m going for more root beer. Want a refill?”

“Sure, thanks.”

While Willow waits at the soda machine, I scan the letter. This one is long and detailed, but besides the last paragraph, everything about this letter is about Thalia and Lily, not Willow’s mom and aunt. And the clue is so personal, I doubt that anyone outside of Willow’s mom would have any idea what it meant. How are we going to figure this out?

I check my phone and see I have a text from Emma. Still with Willow? My mom asked if we could bring the girls to visit her in Rockport, and Simon has a meeting. Are you ok with an evening on your own? You can invite Willow over.

Emma is seriously desperate for me to have a friend. And obviously I’m thrilled at the thought of a night alone. Yeah, I’ll ask her. Having a little breathing room from the family has been good for me. I’d even heard Emma intervene in what sounded like an early-morning rehearsal wake-up call outside my bedroom door.

Willow plops down my drink on the table. “Okay, I have an idea, but I have to warn you it isn’t a great idea. You’ll probably laugh.”

She fidgets with her straw, barely making eye contact. Now I’m all kinds of intrigued. “I won’t laugh. What is it?”

“What if…” She exhales. “What if we use the spell the aunts gave us?”

“The spell for lost things?” I try hard not to crack a smile, but it happens anyway and Willow folds her arms across her chest defensively.