Chapter 2
EPHRAIM
The timber-framed great room of our ranch house buzzed with conversation as I navigated through clusters of Eastern Washington’s elite.
The annual Holt Enterprises gala was more than a social obligation; it was an opportunity to reinforce the family’s position as the region’s foremost land and cattle empire.
My great-grandfather would have been proud.
“Ephraim!” Corrine West’s voice cut through the din, her perfectly manicured hand waving me over from where she held court near the stone fireplace. Her ice-blonde hair caught the light from the massive chandelier overhead, her smile sharp and knowing.
“Corrine,” I nodded, accepting the scotch she offered from a passing tray. “Profitable evening for your family?”
“Always, when we’re doing business with Holts.” Her eyes swept the room before landing back on me. “Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to discuss the eastern pasture parcel with you. The water rights alone...”
I followed her lead toward a quieter corner, my mind already calculating the value of what she was proposing.
The West family had been neighbors and competitors for three generations, and while I respected their business acumen, I never forgot they would happily swallow Holt Enterprises whole if given half a chance.
“The McCullough place?” I asked, keeping my voice casual. “Last I heard, they weren’t interested in selling.”
Corrine’s laugh was throaty, confident, echoing slightly in the acoustics of the high-ceilinged room.
“People’s interests change when the right price is mentioned,” she said, her fingers tapping the side of her crystal glass, “and when they realize who their neighbors might be if they don’t sell to us.
” Her ice-blue eyes held a predatory gleam, the kind that made lesser ranchers nervous.
I recognized that look from our grandfather’s negotiations, the cold calculation that had built both our family empires from dust and stubborn cattle.
The implication was clear, she’d use our long-standing feud with the Ashby family as leverage.
Clever. It was exactly why I enjoyed doing business with Corrine.
She understood the unspoken rules of power in this region better than most. Better than Larkin, certainly.
The thought of my wife brought my attention back to the main room where she stood by the entrance, speaking with some county commissioner’s wife.
Her silver-gray dress caught the light, understated elegance that had once drawn my eye but now seemed almost... faded.
“She looks lovely tonight,” Corrine observed, following my gaze. There was something in her tone that I couldn’t quite place. “Though I don’t think I’ve seen her actually discuss business once this evening. Is she feeling well?”
“She’s fine,” I answered, a defensive edge creeping into my voice that annoyed me. “The gala is more her domain than mine. She handles the social aspects.”
“Of course,” Corrine said, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “And you handle the empire building. It’s a traditional arrangement. My grandparents had much the same dynamic.”
The comparison to her grandparents’ generation should have rankled, but instead, I found it strangely validating.
Larkin and I had settled into our roles over the years, each playing to our strengths.
I built the business, she managed the social obligations.
It worked. So why did the knot of tension in my gut tell me otherwise?
“Have you given any more thought to that conservation coalition she’s involved with?” Corrine continued, her voice lowered conspiratorially. “Several of the landowners are concerned about how it might restrict development options.”
“I’m aware of the coalition’s activities,” I said, not entirely truthfully.
Larkin had mentioned it in passing a few times, some watershed protection initiative or another, but details about her interests tended to drift past me lately, drowned out by the constant pressure of expansion and market demands.
“They’re well-intentioned, but ultimately, business will prevail. It always does.”
“Spoken like a true Holt,” Corrine said, her hand briefly touching my forearm, a gesture that suggested more familiarity than we actually shared. “But you might want to keep closer tabs on it. Some of their proposals could impact that irrigation project you’ve been planning.”
The irritation that flared within me was disproportionate to her comment.
Larkin had always been soft on environmental issues, preferring to see the land as something to be preserved rather than leveraged.
It was one of the few areas where we consistently clashed, though usually indirectly, through carefully worded comments rather than outright arguments.
“I’ll look into it,” I promised, more to end the conversation than from genuine concern.
My attention drifted back to the room where Larkin was now speaking with someone from the water commission.
She looked different somehow, less like the polished rancher’s wife she presented and more like the stubborn, principled woman I had married.
It was a reminder of qualities that had once attracted me but now seemed more like obstacles.
The band started playing, signaling the transition to dancing, and I knew my social obligations required me to find my wife for at least one dance.
As I moved toward Larkin, I caught sight of Corrine watching me with a calculating expression that made me wonder how much she truly saw of the dynamics between us.
“Excuse me, darling,” I said, smoothly inserting myself into Larkin’s conversation and placing my hand on the small of her back. “May I have this dance?”
The water commissioner made his excuses as Larkin turned to me, her expression carefully neutral. We hadn’t spoken beyond pleasantries all evening, a pattern that had become increasingly common at these events. Her hand felt cool in mine as we joined the other couples swaying to a country ballad.
“You’ve been avoiding me all evening,” I observed, keeping my voice low as we moved across the hardwood floor.
“I’ve been playing hostess, Ephraim,” she replied, her tone even. “Isn’t that what you prefer me to do at these things?”
There was an edge to her words that surprised me. “Of course. You’re exceptional at it. Everyone admires how gracefully you represent Holt Enterprises.”
Larkin’s smile was tight, not quite reaching her eyes. “How nice to know I’m meeting your standards.”
The sarcastic undertone in her voice was unlike her, or at least unlike the version of her I was used to at public events.
Larkin had always been skilled at maintaining appearances, a quality I had once found admirable but was now beginning to question.
Why couldn’t she be as forthcoming in private as she seemed to be becoming in public?
“Is everything all right?” I asked, genuinely curious. “You seem different tonight.”
She met my gaze directly, those hazel eyes that had once captivated me now holding a distance I couldn’t quite breach. “I’m fine, Ephraim. Just a bit tired.”
The music shifted to something slower, more intimate, and I pulled her slightly closer.
For a moment, I felt a flicker of what we once had, the easy physical connection that had drawn us together in the early days.
Then Larkin stiffened almost imperceptibly, and the moment passed, leaving me with the uncomfortable sense that I was dancing with a stranger wearing my wife’s face.
“We should talk about the conservatory project,” I said, more to fill the silence than from any genuine desire for the conversation. “Corrine mentioned some concerns?—“
“Of course she did,” Larkin interrupted, something close to anger flashing in her eyes before she controlled it. “Corrine has always been very concerned with Holt business, hasn’t she?”
The accusation in her tone caught me off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Larkin’s gaze shifted past me, and I followed her line of sight to where Corrine stood watching us with that knowing smile of hers. “Nothing. Just an observation.”
I didn’t like the insinuation in her words, the suggestion that my relationship with Corrine was anything other than professional.
We were neighbors with aligned business interests, nothing more.
Though I had to admit, Corrine understood the pressures and responsibilities of running a large ranch operation in a way Larkin never had, despite her best efforts.
“Perhaps we can discuss it tomorrow,” I said stiffly, already regretting bringing up the topic. “After you’ve had some rest.”
The song ended, and Larkin immediately stepped back, creating physical distance between us. “If that’s what you’d prefer.”
As she walked away toward the bar, I felt the knot in my stomach tighten.
Something was shifting, not just between me and Larkin but within her.
She had always been strong-willed, a quality that had attracted me to the soft-spoken equestrian who wasn’t intimidated by the Holt family legacy.
But over time, that strength seemed to have calcified into something harder, more resistant to my guidance.
“Problems on the home front?” Corrine’s voice came from behind me, amusement evident. She had returned to speak with me so soon after we finished our previous conversation. What more did she want?