“Nope. First time.”

Floor-to-ceiling glass windows ran along one side of the airport-hangar-sized room. They looked out on an interior courtyard below filled with benches and tables that I suspected got a lot of use when the weather was nicer. The newsroom itself consisted of rows and rows of open cubicles where reporters and editors worked at computer screens, watched television news, and talked quietly on the phone. Offices and a conference room lined the side of the room opposite the windows; all the walls were glass, meaning everyone could watch what was going on.

Most of the televisions had the sound turned off and conversations—whether on the phone or between journalists and editors—were muted. We could have been in a library.

Kit had already pulled an extra chair into her cubicle for me. Except for a wilted-looking cactus on a shelf above her desk and a plain vanilla wall calendar, it was bare.

“Whose office is this?” I asked.

“No one’s. I stole the plant to make it look more homey.”

“It’s quieter than I expected. And you don’t have much privacy.”

“It’s a goldfish bowl,” she said. “See those offices up there?”

She pointed to two large glass offices one floor above us that were cantilevered out over part of the newsroom. “Those belong to Scotty and Alex. She took over Clay’s office after he retired. Even though they’re upstairs and partially screened off, those of us with desks at the back of the room can see them arguing. It’s not much fun. And the glass isn’t entirely soundproof when they’re shouting.”

“That must be awful.” We sat down. “Whose office is that?” I pointed to a large glassed-in room across from us. The vertical blinds had been pulled to one side. The office, which was strewn with papers, books, piles of newspapers, and a couple of Starbucks cups, was empty.

“Grant Lowry’s,” she said. “Fortunately he’s the kind of managing editor who has an open-door policy. The only time those blinds are pulled is to give one of us privacy with him when we need it. He also believes in management by walking around, so don’t be surprised if he appears over your shoulder.”

“Thanks for letting me know.” Instinctively I looked over my shoulder before taking our sandwiches out of the deli bag. “Hazel knows you like extra pickles. She says to tell you hi.”

Kit’s face lit up. “You went to the Middleburg deli? And The Upper Crust for cow puddles? Aw, Luce, thanks.”

“I figured you could use comfort food. How are you doing?”