spread gossip about me. That would be bad enough if the gossip was confined to the collectors’ market, but I’m afraid that he’ll go to the media.”
“Why would the media care about your troubled childhood?”
She spread her hands apart. “My father is Dr. Brandon C. Radwell.”
“A psychologist who specializes in family counseling. Wrote a book on marriage. Does some talk shows. I know. That much came up when I checked you out online.”
“Clearly you haven’t been paying attention to those talk shows.”
“Guilty as charged,” Sam said.
“My father has become one of those TV guest experts on families, child-rearing and marriage. His new book, Families by Choice, is being released this week. He is in serious talks with a television producer about a reality TV series. It would be similar to those shows that feature the dog experts who go into people’s homes and deal with bad dogs, I think, except that he would go into people’s homes and tell them how to fix their family problems.”
“Okay, I see the picture here,” Sam said. “If it gets out that the hot celebrity expert in family psychology has a daughter with a troubled past who thinks she has paranormal powers, it could kill book sales and the TV deal.”
“And it would be all my fault. On top of that, the whole family would be horribly embarrassed. I’m the crazy daughter they would have preferred to keep stashed in the attic. That sort of thing isn’t done much these days, though, so everyone, including me, goes out of their way to pretend that I’m normal. As far as the media is concerned, the Radwells are just one big happy family. Specifically, we are the perfect example of the modern blended family.”
“You sound like you’re quoting someone.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah. Dad.”
“Your father and the rest of the family don’t realize that you actually do have some true talent?”
“No, of course not. How do you prove a paranormal talent like mine to someone who isn’t sensitive to that kind of energy?”
Amusement gleamed in Sam’s eyes. “Setting fires wasn’t proof ?”
“That is not funny. My family concluded that I was not only delusional but seriously deranged. Hence my time in the Summerlight Academy, where I learned how to pass for normal. They like to think the intensive counseling and therapy were effective. I prefer to let them believe that. It works better for all of us.”
“What do they think you do for a living?”
“As far as they’re concerned, I’m a small-time online bookseller. I’m the official underachiever in the family, but that’s better than having everyone think I’m still delusional.” Abby glanced at her watch again. “I don’t have any more time to waste, Mr. Coppersmith. Will you take the job?”
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Sam said. “You had a difficult childhood, you set a few fires, spent some time in a special school for troubled teens, and you currently live a double life that has a secret side involving the underground hot-books market. You have zapped at least one individual with your talent, and I’m betting there have been others.”
Alarm flashed through her. “What makes you say that?”
Sam gave her a wicked smile. “Because you admitted you knew you could take down the intruder before you confronted him. That implies some prior experience, or at least a little practice.”
She swallowed hard. “Okay, there may have been a couple of other similar incidents, but I can explain all of them, really. One involved the owner of the bookstore that I accidentally burned down, and there was this creepy assistant professor in college who wanted to run experiments on me and tried to rape me when I refused. And a couple of years ago, a client became obsessed with me, but…”
Sam held up one hand, palm out. “No need to explain, Abby Radwell. You are my kind of client. I’ll take the job.”
5
NOT JUST MY KIND OF CLIENT
“Why would the media care about your troubled childhood?”
She spread her hands apart. “My father is Dr. Brandon C. Radwell.”
“A psychologist who specializes in family counseling. Wrote a book on marriage. Does some talk shows. I know. That much came up when I checked you out online.”
“Clearly you haven’t been paying attention to those talk shows.”
“Guilty as charged,” Sam said.
“My father has become one of those TV guest experts on families, child-rearing and marriage. His new book, Families by Choice, is being released this week. He is in serious talks with a television producer about a reality TV series. It would be similar to those shows that feature the dog experts who go into people’s homes and deal with bad dogs, I think, except that he would go into people’s homes and tell them how to fix their family problems.”
“Okay, I see the picture here,” Sam said. “If it gets out that the hot celebrity expert in family psychology has a daughter with a troubled past who thinks she has paranormal powers, it could kill book sales and the TV deal.”
“And it would be all my fault. On top of that, the whole family would be horribly embarrassed. I’m the crazy daughter they would have preferred to keep stashed in the attic. That sort of thing isn’t done much these days, though, so everyone, including me, goes out of their way to pretend that I’m normal. As far as the media is concerned, the Radwells are just one big happy family. Specifically, we are the perfect example of the modern blended family.”
“You sound like you’re quoting someone.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah. Dad.”
“Your father and the rest of the family don’t realize that you actually do have some true talent?”
“No, of course not. How do you prove a paranormal talent like mine to someone who isn’t sensitive to that kind of energy?”
Amusement gleamed in Sam’s eyes. “Setting fires wasn’t proof ?”
“That is not funny. My family concluded that I was not only delusional but seriously deranged. Hence my time in the Summerlight Academy, where I learned how to pass for normal. They like to think the intensive counseling and therapy were effective. I prefer to let them believe that. It works better for all of us.”
“What do they think you do for a living?”
“As far as they’re concerned, I’m a small-time online bookseller. I’m the official underachiever in the family, but that’s better than having everyone think I’m still delusional.” Abby glanced at her watch again. “I don’t have any more time to waste, Mr. Coppersmith. Will you take the job?”
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Sam said. “You had a difficult childhood, you set a few fires, spent some time in a special school for troubled teens, and you currently live a double life that has a secret side involving the underground hot-books market. You have zapped at least one individual with your talent, and I’m betting there have been others.”
Alarm flashed through her. “What makes you say that?”
Sam gave her a wicked smile. “Because you admitted you knew you could take down the intruder before you confronted him. That implies some prior experience, or at least a little practice.”
She swallowed hard. “Okay, there may have been a couple of other similar incidents, but I can explain all of them, really. One involved the owner of the bookstore that I accidentally burned down, and there was this creepy assistant professor in college who wanted to run experiments on me and tried to rape me when I refused. And a couple of years ago, a client became obsessed with me, but…”
Sam held up one hand, palm out. “No need to explain, Abby Radwell. You are my kind of client. I’ll take the job.”
5
NOT JUST MY KIND OF CLIENT
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