Gwen’s hands gripped her laptop so hard, I feared it might snap in two. But she eventually composed herself, wiped her expression clear, and assured me, in a very calm voice, “It’ll be down in two seconds.”
It was more like two minutes, in actuality. Two long, excruciating, awkward minutes, during which I stood in the middle of the floor watching Gwen’s fingers fly over the keyboard. Only when she closed the lid of her laptop and met my eyes again did I finally take a shaky breath and start to feel some of my panic ebb.
“It’s done,” she said softly. “It’s down.”
“Thank you,” I breathed, my relief palpable. “I— I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” Gwen rose to her feet and came slowly toward me, approaching like I was a skittish animal. Her eyes were soft, her expression open. “I didn’t think. I was just so excited about the website, I got carried away.”
“You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.”
She shook her head. “I should’ve asked first. You mentioned your childhood. You said you ran away at fifteen. I didn’t realize…” Her eyes glossed over with tears. “You’re still running aren’t you, love?”
My throat felt too tight to speak, so I just nodded.
Then, I was in Gwen’s arms. She hugged me with surprising strength, compressing my ribcage until I could barely breathe. A moment later, a second set of arms closed around me as Florence joined the huddle.
“You’re suffocating me,” I lied.
They just squeezed tighter.
When I finally managed to extract myself, I sat down on the floor and pulled Socks into my lap. He squirmed for a few seconds, then happily settled with his body sprawled over me. I sank my fingers deep into his thick fur and began to scruff his neck, his ears, his jowls. I didn’t look at Florence or Gwen as they sat down on the couch. I kept my eyes on the puppy, knowing it would be easier to speak about this if I pretended no one else was in the room with me.
“When I was a kid, I was sort of…” I sucked in a breath. “Famous.”
The air went still.
“Not Taylor Swift level or anything,” I hurried on. “It wasn’t on a national scale. This far north, people probably wouldn’t know me. But in the southern states — mainly in Florida, where the show was based — I had a pretty substantial following.”
“The show?” Gwen asked quietly.
“It was just a daytime television program. Local syndication, at first. Then, later, it got picked up by some of the cable providers. Eventually, it became one of the most popular time slots in the afternoons.” I swallowed hard. My fingers rubbed Socks’ ears and he sighed in blatant appreciation. “The Child Clairvoyant. Dumb name, I know. But it got people to tune in.”
“Oh my god!” Flo screeched.
My head snapped up to her.
She was looking at me with stunned disbelief — and clear, undeniable recognition.
Damn and blast.
“I knew you looked familiar!” Her eyes were riveted to my face. “For days now I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out where the hell I know you from! That’sit!I used to watch that show all the time when I was a kid. My grandma wasobsessed. She never missed an episode!”
“Go figure,” I muttered glumly.
“You look the same! I mean, older now, obviously. But you still have that JonBenét Ramsey child-star look about you. Those super light blue eyes! That gorgeous blonde hair! Jeeze, now that I see it, I can’t believe I didn’t before.” Flo looked at Gwen. “Did you ever watch the show?”
“No.” Gwen’s lips twitched. “We didn’t have cable TV in the trailer park. Even if we did, my Mom wasn’t big on the witchy-woo-woo, if you recall. That’s why she and my Aunt Colette had such a falling out.” She paused. “Well, that and the fact that my mom was a raging bitch with a penchant for meth.”
My eyes widened.
“Right,” Flo muttered, then looked back at me. “Anyway, this is so freaking cool, Imogen.”
“It’s really not, I assure you.”
“It is!” she insisted. “You’re totally famous!”
“Iwas,” I corrected. “I’m not anymore.”