Chapter 12
EPHRAIM
The rain didn’t let up all day. Seattle had welcomed me with its typical weather, turning the entire rescue operation into a muddy, gray, wet landscape that tested every ounce of patience and determination I possessed.
My hands were raw and blistering despite the gloves Harlan had given me, my back aching in ways I’d never experienced behind a desk, and my pride had taken its own beating as I realized just how little I knew about the actual work that kept this place functioning.
And then came the second day. My back ached from my first day, but that didn’t stop me from trying.
It was another long day, the blisters worse, my body protesting movements it was unaccustomed to.
Harlan, to his credit, showed no surprise at my presence or my ineptitude with basic barn work, simply assigning me tasks with the same matter-of-fact tone he used with every volunteer.
“Those water troughs need scrubbing,” he’d say, gesturing to the algae-covered containers that were nothing like the automated watering systems I had installed at our ranch. “Use the stiff-bristle brushes in the tool shed. And watch your feet in this mud. It’s deceptive.”
I had climbed the fence around one of the main paddocks to fix a section of broken rail, feeling muscles in my legs I didn’t know existed.
The satisfaction when I successfully hammered the new board into place was surprising in its intensity.
There was something undeniable about completing a tangible task, about seeing the immediate result of your effort.
What was less satisfying was watching Larkin throughout both days, her comfort in this environment contrasting sharply with my awkward adaptation.
She moved with a fluid grace through her domain, knowing exactly where to find tools, which horse needed special attention, how to coax volunteers to their most effective roles.
When she occasionally looked in my direction, I caught brief flickers of surprise in her expression, as if she couldn’t quite believe I was still there, still working.
But she made no move to acknowledge me personally, no invitation to speak privately, no indication that my presence meant anything beyond that of any new volunteer.
The distance between us was physically small but emotionally vast, and it became increasingly clear that breaking through it would require more than just manual labor.
I tried to be useful, accepting every task Harlan assigned, from mucking stalls to repairing a gate latch to sorting through donated equipment.
Each job showed me another piece of the operation Larkin had wanted to pour her energy into while I kept her confined on the ranch.
By the end of the second day, I was soaked, sore, and carrying a new understanding of what this place represented to her.
It wasn’t just a charity, it was an identity, a purpose that existed separately from me, and that separation was exactly why she needed it.
Late in the afternoon on that second day, Waylon appeared unannounced at the edge of the property, his luxury sedan looking as out of place in this world of mud and horses as I felt.
Harlan intercepted him at the main building, clearly uncomfortable with another intruder, but I waved Waylon over when I spotted him.
“I figured you’d be here,” he said as he approached, eyeing the tool in my hand and my mud-caked boots. “Never thought I’d see the day Ephraim Holt would be personally mending fences.”
“There’s something therapeutic about it,” I found myself saying, surprising both of us with the sincerity in my tone. “You learn to value immediate results when you’re hammering nails instead of signing contracts.”
Waylon nodded slowly, taking in the scene around us. “I get it, actually. The ranch hands back home have always seemed more satisfied than us management types.”
“They don’t worry about quarterly reports,” I agreed, setting down the post digger I’d been using. “But I doubt you drove all the way to Seattle to discuss the psychology of manual labor. What’s happening back home?”
“Exactly what you’d expect when the CEO and face of the company vanishes into thin air.
” His usual calm was strained, the lines around his eyes deeper than the last time I’d seen him.
“The board called an emergency session, which I managed to postpone by convincing them you had a personal matter that required immediate attention. But I can’t hold them off forever. ”
I nodded, expecting this development but still feeling a stab of frustration. “I knew it wouldn’t take long for the questions to start.”
“The bigger issue is Corrine. She’s been spinning narratives since you left the ranch.
First, she said you’d taken Larkin on an impromptu vacation to rekindle your relationship.
Now she’s suggesting Larkin had some kind of breakdown and you’ve temporarily stepped back from operations to support her. ”
I clenched my jaw at the mention of Corrine, my disappointment in her evolving into something darker. “She doesn’t know where Larkin is. We didn’t exactly part on good terms.”
“Well, she’s making sure her version of events becomes official Holt Enterprises policy if she gets her way.
And without you there to counter her, it’s looking increasingly likely she will.
” He paused, studying my face. “You know she wants more than just the McCullough deal now, right? She’s positioning herself to effectively run operations in your absence. ”
“She doesn’t work for us.” I paused for a moment, finally seeing what her ploy had been all along. “That conniving...”
“What did she do?” Waylon asked, not yet understanding what I had come to realize.
“The night I called you to my home, I had come home to find Corrine already in my office. Let’s just say that she did more than make a pass at me.
I didn’t fully understand it, but now I get it.
She wants a share of the company. She wants Holt Ranch.
If she and I were together, we could merge her family’s ranch and mine and rule Eastern Washington like some new power couple. She tried to get me to leave my wife.”
Waylon whistled, the sound almost lost in the drizzle surrounding us. “I’d say you dodged a bullet there, but it’s still going to be a mess. She’ll fight your side of the story, and if you’re not there to present your version of events, her word becomes truth by default.”
The dilemma was clear. My absence had created a vacuum, and Corrine was rushing to fill it with her ambitions, while I stood here covered in mud and horsehair, physically removed from the power structures I had carefully built.
Yet leaving felt impossible, not just because of Larkin, but because something about this place had already started to change me.
“I’ll call the board tonight, make a statement. Set the record straight about Larkin and Corrine.”
Waylon looked unconvinced. “They’ll want more than a conference call. The Holt name carries weight, but you being physically present has always been part of your control. If you stay away much longer, you’ll weaken your position significantly.”
“It’s been two days, Waylon. The company won’t collapse in two days.”
“Maybe not, but the foundation will start to crack. Already the regional banks are calling, asking about loan terms now that the face of the business has disappeared.”
I ran a hand through my rain-soaked hair, frustrated that my attempt at connection with Larkin might simultaneously destroy the business we had built together. “Well, I guess we find out just how good at your job you are, because I’m not leaving. Not yet.”
“Because of Larkin?” He kept his tone carefully neutral, but I could hear the disapproval underneath.
“Yes and no.” I turned to look at him fully.
“This work matters, Waylon. I can see why Larkin wanted more of it in her life. There’s a clarity to it, a directness that business doesn’t offer.
More importantly, I made her a promise to show her I was willing to change, to understand what matters to her.
If I leave now, before she’s even acknowledged my effort, it proves her point that nothing matters to me more than Holt Enterprises. ”
Waylon sighed, looking around at the rainy landscape. “I get that, I do. But you’re not just Ephraim Holt the husband here. You’re also Ephraim Holt the CEO. And that man has responsibilities that can’t be abandoned for a philosophical journey.”
“Then be me for a while longer. You have full authority to make decisions in my absence. The board trusts you. The managers respect you. Handle Corrine. Handle the banks. Whatever it takes to keep things stable.”
“Can do.” His agreement was reluctant but resolute, our professional bond proving stronger than the personal confusion that had me working in the rain.
We stood in silence for a moment, both understanding that something fundamental had shifted, not just in my priorities but potentially in Holt Enterprises itself.
The rain continued to fall, creating a rhythmic sound against the metal roofs of the outbuildings, nature indifferent to our business concerns.
“Tell me something,” Waylon said finally. “Is this just about proving a point to Larkin, or do you actually see a place for yourself in all this? In her world, not yours?”
I considered his question seriously, surprised at the uncertainty of my own answer.
“I’m not sure yet. But for the first time in years, I’m not trying to figure out the next business move or the most strategic investment.
I’m just learning to hammer a nail without hitting my thumb.
And maybe, in the process, learning what I actually want beyond the empire I’ve built. ”
He nodded slowly, accepting the admission with more grace than I deserved. “Well, I’ll buy you some time. But I can’t promise how much. Eventually, you’re going to have to choose which role you want to play: husband, businessman, or something else entirely.”
The truth of his statement settled over me with uncomfortable weight.
I had always prided myself on being able to balance multiple identities, to be the strategic thinker in the boardroom and the man in charge at home.
But maybe Larkin had been right all along, maybe those versions of me were fundamentally incompatible, requiring more compartmentalization than any person could sustain indefinitely.
“Keep the ship steady, Waylon. I’ll find my way back to the helm when the time is right.” I extended my hand, the gesture both dismissal and appreciation.
He took it with his firm grip. “Don’t take too long. The ocean’s getting rougher by the hour, and even the best captains need to man the wheel personally when storms hit.”
“Why did you drive all the way out here, Waylon?” I asked. “This could have been a phone call. Or an email. Actually, you should probably be sending me regular updates, just so I am aware of what is happening on the other side of those mountains.”
“Partially to give you this information in person.” He reached into his coat pocket. “And the rest to make sure you understood just how serious the fallout of you abandoning your position was.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me.
I unfolded the page to find a series of numbers on it, numbers that looked an awful lot like profits on potential projects. “What am I looking at?”
“Losses.” His voice was so matter-of-fact. It was jarring.
I glanced back at the page to find that indeed, all the numbers were in the negative column. They weren’t devastating, but they were a trend. “How does two days result in this?”
“Pulling out of the McCullough land deal left us with gaps to fill. That’s after the penalties.
We lost the good faith money we had on the table.
Legal is working to see what can be recovered, but those are the numbers if we are unsuccessful in our pursuit of that.
It has caused others to question the future of Holt Enterprises.
This,” he gestured to the paper in my hand, “is just the beginning of our losses if the reputation of Holt Enterprises is damaged long-term.”
I knew what I had to do, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. “How long?”
“How long can we go on with you out here like this? Or how long will it take for us to stop the bleeding?”
“Both.”
“To be honest, we’d be fine if Corrine wasn’t out there whispering in everyone’s ear that you had some mental break.
As long as she keeps that up, people will back away from any deal we are in the process of making.
I’ve got two customers who I’ve talked down off the fence already, but there will be more. ”
“That’s why I pay you the big bucks, Waylon. You know how to do your job.”
“Yeah, well, there’s only so much of this I can cover. At some point, they will expect to talk to you. The rumors won’t go away. Not entirely.”
I looked down at my hands, already starting to show signs of wear and tear. I didn’t regret it, not the calluses or the muscle strain. “Keep holding the fort. If you need anything, call me.”
He gave me a look that suggested he wanted to say more, that he saw the changes in me more clearly than I could explain.
But he merely nodded and turned back toward his car, a figure from my old life walking away from my new reality.
Watching him go, I felt the pull of both worlds, the responsibility of my empire and the unexpected peace I was finding here in the mud and rain.
The balance felt precarious, but for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to run back to safety of what was known and comfortable.
I was about to return to my task when I caught sight of Larkin leading a young volunteer through an exercise with one of the rescue horses, her laughter carrying across the wet air despite the dreary weather.
Something about the image, the simple joy she took in sharing her passion, made the decision for me.
One more day. I would give myself one more day here before dealing with the consequences of my temporary exile.
Picking up my tools again, I resolved to make the most of whatever time I had left, not just to prove something to Larkin, but perhaps to find something in myself that had been missing for too long, hidden beneath the polished veneer of Ephraim Holt, industry tycoon, the identity that now seemed simultaneously too large and too small to contain the man I was becoming.