Much Ado About You(23)
“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.”
“Your schedule is open now, though. Maybe if they knew this was full time, your current clients would recommend you more.”
“That’s true. But self-employment is scary, right? And I don’t want to have to work sixteen hours a day just to make ends meet.”
“Right you are,” he agreed. “It’s a lot of stress and responsibility. Especially when you have employees. But on the plus side it’s bloody nice to be your own boss.”
I smiled, envious. I’d love to make editing a full-time gig, but for now it was just a nice way to keep me afloat without having to dip too far into my savings. Trying to push away my worries, I asked, “Does farming make you happy?”
Roane swallowed the bite of sandwich he’d taken as I slid onto the stool next to him. His gaze wandered to Shadow, who had finished the deli meat and was sniffing all around the bowl as if he might magically find more. “Aye.”
I frowned at the slight hesitation I’d heard. “You don’t sound so sure.”
“No, I am. I’ve always liked the physicality of it. It’s straightforward, the results of your productivity are tangible, and I like going to bed physically exhausted rather than mentally.”
“You’re never mentally exhausted?” God, I envied him.
“Sometimes.” He looked at me for the first time since I’d asked him about his happiness. “I do a bit of maintenance for the tourist board as well. Looking after homes that are rented out to tourists. Farming and tourism aren’t easy industries. There’s a lot of stress involved.”
I mentally berated myself for thinking he had it easy. “Of course there is. Now that you mention it, I’m sure I read somewhere that farming is one of the most stressful jobs out there.”
Roane nodded, studying his sandwich intently. “It can be.”
“But it does make you happy?” I pushed.
Our eyes met, his warm with something I couldn’t name. “Aye, Evie. I’m happy.”
I couldn’t help my wide smile. “I’m glad.”
His eyes flitted past me and landed on the Tupperware box. Surprise flickered across his expression. “Where did you get those?”
“Oh. Your cousin.”
“Caro came here?”
At his shock, I grinned. “Is that unusual? Because she’s unbelievably shy?”
Roane nodded but then he looked at Shadow. “Mind you, she loves him almost as much as me. She cried when I told her what happened.”
“Yeah, I got that. By the way, her cupcakes are delicious. Does she work at the bakery?”
“No.” His expression clouded over.
Aha!
I sensed a story.
Letting Roane take a few more bites of his sandwich, I pounced. “What does a cupcake master do if she’s not working for the local bakery and why is she so shy? And why is her accent different from yours?”
He rolled his eyes. “What’s with the twenty questions?”
“Caroline is intriguing. She dresses like my great-grandmother, is of indeterminate age, impossibly adorable, and is a shit-hot baker. I want to know more.”
Instead of laughing at my nosiness, Roane’s gaze darkened when he turned to me. “Caro lives with her aunt on her mum’s side, so Helena’s nothing to do with the Robsons. She’s an uppity bitch from money who got custody of Caro when her parents died in the Boxing Day tsunami in 2004. Caro was only seven years old.
“She was staying with us for Christmas.” His expression was sad. “Mum told me that Caro’s mum, Amelia, was never really meant for motherhood. She was too selfish. Amelia was a bit of a jet-setter and never wanted to take Caro with her, so she got left behind to stay with us or with Helena whenever her parents traveled. Her dad, my uncle Heath, was different from my father. Weaker, I suppose. Gave in to Caro’s mum’s demands all the time. Blinded by his love for her, Mum said. And poor Caro was the one that suffered for it.” He sighed heavily. “Though no one deserves to die how they died.”