Page 22 of More Than This Land

Claire bit back a response about how she wasn’t planning to interrupt his carefully prepared presentation. Her molars pressed together. “Of course.”

Tom Martin met them at the door, his handshake firm despite the weariness carved into the lines around his eyes. He was pushing sixty, weathered by decades of physical work and Montana winters that left his skin leathery and carved deep lines around his eyes and mouth. “Luke. Good to see you. And you must be Claire Whitlock. Heard you’ve been helping folks around town.”

“Trying to.” Claire returned his smile. “Thank you for meeting with us.”

“Always happy to talk with the Calloways.” He said the right words, but his mouth tightened as he led them to a small office covered in a fine layer of dust and the underlying scent of molasses. “Your grandfather and I did business for twenty years before he passed. Good man.”

Luke’s shoulders pulled back, spine straightening. Claire took note but kept her mouth shut.

They settled into mismatched chairs around Tom’s cluttered desk. Product catalogs competed for space with invoices and family photos. A little girl with missing front teeth grinned from a frame near the computer.

“So.” Tom folded his hands on the desk. “What can I do for you?”

Luke pulled out a folder and presented it with slow, precise movements. “I’ve been reviewing our supply contracts, and I’d like to discuss restructuring our arrangement.”

“Restructuring how?” Tom’s expression stayed open, but his fingers drummed once against the desk before going still.

“We’re currently purchasing ten tons of feed monthly.” Luke droned on about the cost per hundred pounds that Tom charged versus what he could get from another supplier at a lower rate. He slid a paper across the desk. “Considering they’re offering the same quality of feed, I’d like to match that rate or explore other options.”

Color drained from Tom’s face as he studied the numbers. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he swallowed hard. “That’s a significant cut, and I understand your side of things. It all looks good on paper, but I have to wonder about the truth behind their claims on quality.” Tom set the paper down, shuffled it across the desk, then picked it up again. “I’ve been working on razor-thin margins since feed prices jumped last year. A four-dollar-per-hundred difference might not sound like much, but on your volume it would cost me nearly five thousand a month in profit.”

“Which is why I’m offering you the chance to match the rate instead of switching suppliers.” Luke’s tone stayed professional. Detached. “I’m trying to be fair.”

Fair. The word sounded like a curse. For a man like Tom, it was a potential death sentence to his business. Her stomach twisted.

“I appreciate that.” Tom rubbed his jaw, fingers pressing hard into the muscle there. “But I can’t match this and stay in business. My costs don’t allow it. Have you been to their facility to verify their claims? I’m telling you—no one can make this quality at that price. You might pay a little more here, but you’ll get the best. I guarantee that, even when it means cutting into my operating budget.”

Luke shook his head and reached for the paper. “I’m confident in what they offer, which means I’m afraid we’ll need to explore other options.”

“Wait.” Tom’s hand shot out, stopping just short of touching Luke’s arm. His breathing quickened. “Can I be straight with you?”

Luke nodded, his expression unreadable.

“My daughter’s been sick.” Tom’s voice roughened, catching on the words. “Cancer. She’s doing okay now, praise God, but the medical bills nearly buried us. I took out a loan against the business to help with treatment costs. If I lose your account, I lose ten percent of my revenue. That might be enough to tip me into closing.”

The office fell silent except for the hum of the ancient computer on Tom’s desk.

Claire silently begged Luke to reconsider. Please, Lord. Let me see some part of the man buried underneath this hard exterior. Show me he can change. For more reasons than she cared to count. She glanced at Luke, waiting for him to soften and show the compassion she’d glimpsed Saturday evening on her grandmother’s porch.

Instead, Luke’s jaw set in a hard line. His hands flattened on his thighs. “I’m sorry about your daughter. Truly. But I have a responsibility to the ranch to make financially sound decisions. I can’t justify paying premium rates out of sympathy.”

Cold spread through Claire’s chest and down into her limbs. He’d reverted to the Luke from her preliminary report.

“Luke.” She pleaded with him using nothing but his name.

“Business is business, Claire.” He didn’t look at her. “Tom understands that.”

“I do.” Tom’s shoulders curled forward, hunching. “I’d hoped we could work something out. Twenty-three years of partnership should count for something.”

Luke’s heel bounced on the floor two times before he stopped the motion. “It does count. Which is why I’m offering you the chance to match competitors instead of switching without warning.”

Claire’s hands curled around her portfolio, nails digging into the leather. Every instinct screamed at her to intervene, but Luke had made it clear this was his negotiation. She was here to observe and advise, not override.

But watching Tom’s face crumble, seeing the family photos on his desk and knowing what losing this account would cost him, Claire’s breath came faster. Heat flushed her cheeks.

Luke could fire her if he wanted. She refused to keep sitting here and watching him ruin a man’s life. “What if we found a middle ground?”

Both men turned to look at her.