“It’ll come out,” I said, waving off his concern. “What brings you back so soon?”

He held up two paper bags that had rain splatter on them. “Lunch from the bakery. I wanted to make sure you were eating.”

“I was actually just about to sit down to a sandwich I’d made,” I told him as I took one of the bags from him and peered inside. The smell of chicken hit me hard, and my belly rumbled. “But screw my crappy ham and cheese sandwich, this will do much better.”

Roane chuckled and made to move past the counter, but my laptop caught his attention. Shooting me a curious look, he dipped his head toward the screen. “What’s this? Do you write?”

I made a face. “No, Nosey. I’m a freelance editor.”

He frowned at me. “You never mentioned that last night.”

“It’s about the only thing I didn’t mention.” I made a face, remembering all the personal stuff I’d blurted at The Anchor.

With a commiserating smile, Roane led me into the back hallway. Shadow trotted at our heels. “So,” Roane said as he kicked off his muddy Wellington boots at the bottom of the stairs. “Do you edit fiction books for a publisher?”

“No, I edit books for indie authors. People who self-publish.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a thing now, isn’t it.”

I grinned as I followed him up to the apartment. “It’s been a thing for a while now, Farmer Robson.”

“And you make money from this?” He glanced over his shoulder at me as he walked into the kitchen.

“Yeah. I did it to supplement my income. Chicago is an expensive place to live.”

“What made you decide to be an editor then?”

The question made me halt in the doorway. No one had ever asked me that question. That couldn’t be right. I thought on it and decided it was right. Not even Greer had asked me. I guessed, however, my best friend just assumed she already knew the answer: I loved words. “I didn’t know I wanted to be an editor until I started working for the film mag. I just knew I wanted to be in publishing, to be surrounded by the written word. I can’t explain my love for words. Not well, anyway. They’re like a golden sunset across a tranquil sea, viewed from a run-down shack. They can turn even the most ordinary of feelings or thoughts into poetry.”

Roane smiled at me.

I shrugged, smiling back. “When I started working at the magazine, I realized an editor got to have a part in creating something interesting and meaningful. After I started taking on fiction writers as clients, I knew I loved that more than the magazine. Not only do I get to read books before everyone else, I get to read some pretty great books and help tighten the plots, make the characters richer, guide the author a little. It’s fun for a book nerd. That’s why I edit.”

Roane considered me with a soft look on his face that was becoming familiar. “Good. Everyone should love what they do for a living.”

“Yeah. Except I no longer do it for a living. And book editing on the side merely supplemented my income.”

The farmer was quiet for a second or two as we pulled out plates and put the roast chicken sandwiches onto them.

“Coffee?”

“Aye, please,” he said, taking a third bag I hadn’t seen out of his jacket pocket. Seeing my questioning gaze, he nodded to Shadow. “I’m quite strict about what he eats, but every now and then he gets a wee treat.” After rummaging in the cupboards, Roane produced a dog bowl. Obviously, the apartment was pet friendly. Penny seemed to think of everything. Roane opened the bag and removed slices of deli meat. “Corned beef from the butcher.”

I laughed at the way the dog’s eyes grew huge as Shadow dug the side of his head into Roane’s waist, waiting impatiently.

Roane broke it up into pieces and put it into Shadow’s bowl. “Good boy,” he said affectionately as he set the bowl on the ground. Then he sat down at the counter like he had this morning.

Warmth suffused me at his proximity, and I was just about to ask him if farming made him happy, when he asked, “Why don’t you make a career out of it? Book editing?”

The truth was I had thought about it. Especially these last few days. However, I wasn’t sure it was plausible. “It’s crossed my mind. But one, I don’t have enough clients yet, and two, I’d have to line up three full-time projects a month to make it financially viable, and I don’t know if that’s doable. Besides, I’d have to funnel money into promoting the business. Turning it into a brand. I have a website and testimonials, but not enough authors know about me just yet. So far I’ve gotten work through word of mouth.”