Chapter 7
EPHRAIM
Ikept calling Larkin, hoping she would answer.
I left voicemail after voicemail until her voicemail box filled up, leaving me with nothing but the beep of rejection and the infuriating silence where her voice should have been.
My anger shifted to something I refused to acknowledge as worry, telling myself instead that she was being childish, that she was the one being unreasonable by ignoring my repeated attempts to handle this maturely.
She couldn’t expect to walk out like she had and leave me scrambling to explain her absence at upcoming meetings and events.
Corrine came over the next morning, ostensibly to review the McCullough land acquisition strategy, but I knew she was assessing how I was handling the domestic crisis.
I appreciated her discretion, her way of not mentioning Larkin’s departure until we had thoroughly discussed water usage calculations and projected returns on investment.
“The McCullough parcel gives us control of three thousand more acres,” she said, pointing to a map spread across my office desk. “Combined with your existing properties, that would give Holt Enterprises the largest contiguous holding in Kittitas County.”
I nodded, distracted, my fingers unconsciously rubbing at the wedding band in my pocket that I had carried since the night she left. “Yes, it’s a critical piece in our expansion strategy.”
Corrine watched me closely, then leaned back in her chair, her tailored suit catching the light from the floor-to-ceiling windows. “You seem distracted.”
“It’s nothing.” I pushed Larkin’s ring deeper into my pocket, irritated that my personal life was seeping into my professional domain. “Just thinking about the logistics of the acquisition.”
“If it’s Larkin... She stopped when she saw my expression, her eyes briefly showing something like concern before quickly reverting to professional neutrality.
“Perhaps you could use a break from the routine. There’s a conservation benefit gala in Portland next week.
I have an extra ticket if you’d like to attend. ”
“A conservation gala?” I raised an eyebrow, unable to hide my skepticism. “That seems a strange invitation coming from you.”
“The speaker is the state senator we need for water legislation,” she explained smoothly. “I wasn’t suggesting we go as environmental activists, just as interested parties. Sometimes you need to understand the enemy to defeat them.”
Despite myself, I almost smiled. Corrine understood the game in a way Larkin never had. “I might take you up on that, though it’s probably better if I don’t show up at social events without my wife at the moment.”
“Nonsense. It shows independence.” She leaned forward slightly, her gaze direct. “You’re not going to let your wife’s vacation, disrupt your business, are you?”
The suggestion rankled more than it should have, but I forced myself to concede. “Of course not. Send me the details, and maybe I’ll come along.”
Corrine smiled, a predatory satisfaction in her expression. “Good. It will be good for people to see you moving forward. Let them draw their own conclusions. You look much better than a husband abandoned. It makes you seem in control.”
“I didn’t know this was a matter of appearances.” My tone was sharper than intended.
“Everything is a matter of appearances, Ephraim,” she replied calmly. “You taught me that yourself, years ago when I was just the ‘girl from the next ranch over.’ Remember?”
The memory surfaced of a younger Corrine, eager and ambitious, shadowing my father and me at county meetings. She had transformed from that girl into a formidable businesswoman, someone who matched my drive and understood my ambitions without needing explanations or compromises.
“You’ve learned your lessons well,” I acknowledged, raising my glass in her direction.
She lifted hers in a mock toast. “I had an excellent teacher.”
As she continued with her analysis of the land deal, I found myself only half-listening, my mind circling back to Larkin with frustrating frequency.
Where was she? Who was she with? The not knowing was eating at me, an unfamiliar feeling for someone who had built his empire on anticipating and controlling outcomes.
When Corrine finally left, her subtle perfume lingering in the office after she’d gone, I pulled out my phone again, thumb hovering over her number.
I had already called her more times than I wanted to admit, and each unanswered call felt like another chip in the armor I maintained so carefully.
With a curse, I sent a text instead, something that would seem less desperate than calling yet again.
Larkin, we need to discuss this situation. Call me when you get a chance.
Satisfied that I had asserted myself without groveling, I turned my attention back to work.
Hours passed, the sun setting over the valley outside my window, transforming the landscape I controlled into shadows and gold.
Still no response from Larkin. My phone sat silently on the desk, no notifications, no missed calls.
I should have been furious at her disrespect, but instead, a nagging discomfort settled in my chest, a sensation that had been growing since I found that note on the kitchen island.
The simplicity of those words, “I need to find myself again,” had taken on an alarming profundity.
Had I really been so blind that I hadn’t noticed she was losing herself?
And what did that say about me, the man who prided himself on paying attention to details, who boasted about knowing exactly what was happening on every acre of his empire?
The question was still haunting me when the house phone rang that evening, startling me out of my thoughts. The ranch foreman’s number flashed on the display. “Holt here,” I answered gruffly.
“Mr. Holt, just wanted to let you know we found a breach in the northeast fence line. Looks like someone cut it, probably kids out looking for excitement.”
A surge of adrenaline washed away my domestic concerns, replacing them with a familiar anger at the violation. “Damage?”
“Minor. The cattle stayed put, and we can repair it tomorrow morning. Just thought you should know.”
“Good work, Sam. I want someone patrolling that section tonight. If they’re bold enough to cut fences, they might come back.”
“Yes, sir. We’re on it.”
After hanging up, I stood looking out the window, the beautiful evening view marred by thoughts of trespassers.
This ranch had been in my family for three generations, and I had expanded it beyond anything my grandfather could have imagined.
Yet now, even with all the land, all the cattle, all the political influence, I felt oddly vulnerable.
As if Larkin’s departure had created a breach in my defenses, a weak point I hadn’t known existed.
My quiet reflection was interrupted by a knock at my office door.
I took a deep breath, stealing myself for another interruption.
This was neither the time nor the place to show anyone, especially my most loyal employees, that my personal life was in disarray.
“Come in,” I called out, straightening my tie with one hand while shuffling a stack of reports with the other.
Waylon Oakbridge entered, the COO of Holt Enterprises who had worked his way up from managing our feed supply operations.
His salt-and-pepper hair and weathered face suggested he spent more time in the field than he actually did, though he rarely missed an opportunity to remind us both that he understood the “real” work.
He closed the door behind him, an uncharacteristic seriousness in his expression.
“Evening, Ephraim.” His Texas drawl always became more pronounced when he was uncomfortable, a tell I had come to recognize in our years together. “Mind if I sit?”
I gestured to the leather armchair opposite my desk. “What’s on your mind?”
Waylon sat, then removed his reading glasses, cleaning them with deliberate care before speaking. “It’s about the third-quarter earnings report,” he began, his voice measured. “They’re strong, better than projected, but... I know that’s not all I want to talk about.”
I felt my jaw tighten instinctively, hating that my personal turmoil was becoming so visible. “What about them?”
He put his glasses back on, his gaze direct. “You’re not fully invested. The meeting this morning, you were somewhere else the entire time, checking your phone when you thought nobody noticed. Your mind wasn’t on the business, and that’s unlike you.”
I bristled at the critique but couldn’t deny its truth. “I have a lot on my plate right now. Larkin up and left. I’m dealing with the fallout.”
“Shit.” It was a simple exclamation, but the weight behind it showed the depth of Waylon’s concern. “I’d heard something was happening with you two, but I figured you’d handle it like you handle everything else.”
“Well, I am handling it.” The defensiveness in my voice surprised even me. “She just needs time to work through whatever this is. She’ll be back.”
Waylon didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on some point over my shoulder, processing.
I could almost see his mind working through the angles, calculating how Larkin’s absence might impact not just me but the company we had built together.
When he finally spoke, it was with the blunt practicality that had made him indispensable to the Holt operation.
“With all due respect, you haven’t been yourself for months, not just since she left.
Maybe years. The woman at that development dinner last week, the one you brought to Corrine’s place, she didn’t seem much like the Larkin I remember from company picnics, the one who could talk horse bloodlines with our ranchers and environmental policy with our lobbyists all in the same breath. ”