Sally, for the record, possessed an age-defying, bottomless pit of energy. On her way out the door, she’d winked at me, waved to Flo, then wandered close to Gwen, softly cupped her cheek with a wrinkled hand, and murmured something about canasta. (This, for whatever reason, made Gwen’s eyes fill with tears but she managed to get them under control before they fell down her cheeks.)
“Was it like that all day?” Florence asked, sounding as dead-tired as I felt inside.
“Yep,” Gwen and I said in unison.
“Jeeze. Gwennie, you really need to hire on some more help.”
“I know, I know. I’m looking.” The redhead blew out a breath. “But it’s high season. There aren’t a lot of takers. At least, not ones Graham deems employable after his extensive background checks.”
A nervous skitter moved down my spine.
“This is a college town,” Flo said, undeterred. “Aren’t there, like, twenty thousand starving undergrads who’d be happy to spritz tabletops and sweep floors and serve coffee?”
“Like I said,I’m looking! I’ve got interviews lined up for Monday.”
“That’s days away!”
“Well, it’s the only time I can do it!” Gwen glanced at me. “We’re closed on Mondays, FYI. I probably should’ve told you that.”
I laughed. “You just did.”
“We also open late on Sundays. Noon, not nine.”
“Noted.”
Her grin widened. “Are you always this go-with-the-flow?”
“I’ve spent most of my life adrift,” I replied without thinking. “Going with the flow is kind of the only option.”
Her grin faded slightly. “Adrift?”
Shit.
I really didn’t want to share my sad little sob story with Gwen and Florence. I was usually good at keeping my private life separate from my work life. When it came to coworkers, I stuck to smalltalk and steered conversations to their lives, not mine. But there was something about the two of them sitting there staring at me — no bullshit, no judgment, just ready to listen. Something that made mewantto share. So, before I could talk myself out of it, I did.
“I, uh, sort of left home when I was fifteen.” I swallowed hard. “Growing up wasn’t so great for me. About a decade ago, it got to a point I couldn’t handle it anymore, and I ran. I’ve been running ever since.”
“Jesus,” Florence said.
“Oh, Imogen.” Gwen’s voice had a tremor, but she steadied it. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Really. It was a long time ago.”
“Maybe,” Gwen murmured. “But my own childhood wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine, so I know from experience, no matter how long it’s been, that darkness can eat at you.”
I blinked at her, surprised to hear the stunning woman beside me with the unfailingly sunny disposition came from a dark childhood. Because, well… she wasn’t running from her past.
She wasn’t runningat all.
She ran a witchy-cool shop. She dressed in a witchy-cool wardrobe. She had a great group of friends. She owned a home. She was living with a super-sexy private investigator badass who was slowly remodeling said home, room by room — a process which, according to Gwen, started with him building her the custom library of her dreams, complete with a rolling ladder.
No, Gwendolyn Goode was not running. She was planted about as firmly as a girl could be, happily settled in what seemed to be a pretty freaking perfect life. If I hadn’t liked her so damn much, I would’ve envied her.
“The trick is, you can’t let it,” she added softly.
I jolted out of my thoughts. “What?”
“That darkness. You can’t let it eat at you.” She paused. “Best way to do that is to fill your life up with light.”