“It has six nail holes.”
“Six holes do not make wood unemployed.”
She shook her head.
“You need friends.”
“I have cows.”
“Exactly my concern.”
Construction gave Walter something physical to think about while the bank incident slowly became less immediate.
The new barn rose through summer.
Steel frame.
Wide central alley.
Covered working chute.
Better lighting.
Safer gates.
A veterinary area Rebecca designed after interviewing the ranch’s veterinarian.
The water project mattered even more.
New buried line.
Additional storage tank.
Automatic troughs positioned so cattle no longer crowded one muddy section during drought.
A redundant pump connection.
When July turned hot and dry, Walter saw the reason for every dollar.
Water reached the south pasture without the pressure drops that had plagued them the previous year.
One evening, Rebecca stood beside a new trough while cattle drank.
“You know what Mom would say?”
Walter leaned on the fence.
“That we spent too much.”
“No.”
“She’d say you should have done this five years ago.”
“That too.”
Rebecca smiled.
“She’d be proud.”
Walter looked toward the barn.
The truth of that hurt softly.
“I know.”
Evergreen Ridge asked Walter to participate in an agricultural-client advisory meeting that autumn.
He almost declined.
Rebecca told him to go.
“Why?”
“Because otherwise they’ll invite somebody in a suit to explain farmers.”
So Walter drove to Knoxville again.
Same branch.
Same worn briefcase.
Same boots, though cleaner.
Brittany still worked at reception.
When he entered, she looked up.
Their eyes met.
For a moment both remembered April.
Then she stood.
“Good morning, Mr. Jennings.”
“Morning.”
“Mr. Shaw is expecting you at ten thirty.”
Walter checked his watch.
10:18.
She smiled carefully.
“You’re early.”
“Habit.”
“There’s coffee.”
“I saw that machine last time. I don’t trust it.”
Brittany laughed before she could stop herself.
The sound surprised both of them.
Walter walked toward the chairs.
“Mr. Jennings?”
He turned.
Brittany looked nervous.
“I owe you an apology.”
Walter waited.
She continued.
“The way I spoke to you that day was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“I was following instructions.”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t all of it.”
Walter studied her.
Brittany’s hands folded together.
“I was irritated because you kept asking.”
“I had been waiting.”
“I know.”
She looked down.
“I made you feel like you were the problem for noticing what was happening.”
Walter said nothing.
She continued.
“I’ve thought about that a lot.”
Finally Walter nodded.
“Good.”
Her eyes lifted.
“Good?”
“Thinking about it is more useful than apologizing because somebody told you to.”
She almost smiled.
“I’m sorry anyway.”
“I accept it.”
That mattered to her.
Walter could see it.
He pointed toward the espresso machine.
“Still not drinking that.”
This time she did smile.
The new branch manager was a woman named Carla Bennett.
Walter had never met her.