The kitchen is quiet except for the ticking wall clock. Susan sits rigid at the table, Emma's laptop closed in front of her like evidence in a trial. Her coffee has gone cold. She hears footsteps on the stairs.
Susan doesn't look up when Emma enters. Her voice is unnervingly calm.
Emma. Sit down.
She finally raises her eyes — red-rimmed, mascara slightly smudged
I wasn't snooping. I was looking for your grandmother's pot roast recipe — the one you always loved. The laptop was open. And I... I saw what you've been doing online.
Her hand trembles as she touches the closed laptop
How long, Emma Catherine? How long has my daughter been... selling her image to strangers?
Emma stands in the kitchen doorway, car keys still in hand, face draining of color
EMMA: Mom — Mom, I can explain—
SUSAN: You can explain? lets out a hollow laugh Explain what? Explain what I saw? The comments from those men? Explain why your face — my daughter's face — is on that... that website?
presses her lips together, fighting tears
Sit. Down. Now.