Rekindled: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance (Lost Love Book 3) Read online

  “All right, girl, we’ll lock up and get going. I’m hungry, too.”

  The company parking lot was mostly empty, except for her beloved red ten-year-old Ford F-150 truck Betsy, and Cubby’s even more ancient Ford. Van Doren was one of Ford’s oldest suppliers, tasked with cutting and stitching all of the interior upholstery for Taurus. Faith took a job here as a bright-eyed high school senior and had never left. She’d attended the local community college at night and completed her bachelor’s degree on evenings and weekends at Eastern Michigan University. She knew this building and the people who worked here as much as she knew her own childhood home, her family, and her closest friends.

  Lights were still on in the front windows. Cubby hadn’t locked up yet. Faith let herself into the company building. Dating back to 1910, it had such a wonderful, old-fashioned ambiance. Lucy followed her on her leash, her toenails clicking on the pine floorboards. On a typical Friday evening, Faith and Cubby would head down to Floyd’s bar on Main Street and grab a cold one to listen to some music.

  But tonight was different. It was special.

  Faith got to the office that she shared with Cubby, tapped on the door, and cracked it open. Her boss, an old farm guy who’d worked at Van Doren for fifteen years longer than Faith had been alive, had his boots propped up on his desk, chewing the end of his yellow pencil. At the sight of her, he winked and tucked the pencil behind his ear. Cubby’s real name was Corbett Brennan, but not even his own mother had called him that. He glanced at the old pendulum clock on the wall. Seven o’clock, and time to close up.

  “There you are, kiddo.” Cubby always called her that, though she had just celebrated her thirtieth birthday yesterday.

  “Yep, here I am. Just coming in to see if you needed help locking up.”

  “Heading out to Jack’s place?”

  “Right after this.”

  “He should’ve just brought the cake here,” Cubby pointed out. “You worked on your birthday.”

  “I wanted to,” Faith admitted. “Got the numbers squared away for September. We’re on track to squinch in with a two thousand surplus.”

  “That is a squinch.” He took his dusty barn jacket off the cast iron coat tree and put it on. “Say, don’t you leave just yet. I’ve got something in my truck.”

  Lucy sat down at Faith’s feet, making snoring and wheezing sounds with her eyes open. Cubby smiled kindly at the wrinkly dog as he turned the lights off. Faith had already made sure the sewing machines were shut down and the paperwork was tucked away. Her side of the shared office was much neater than Cubby’s, though he definitely had a knack for being able to produce any piece of paper she needed from the chaos on his side. Even if that paperwork dated back fifty years.

  Faith tugged on Lucy’s leash, and they both followed Cubby out of the Van Doren building, watched him lock up, and then walked across the dirt and gravel parking lot. Twilight rays were turning the sunset deep reds and purples. There was a harvest yellow moon in the sky. She glanced back briefly. The giant curvy script lettering of the Van Doren Company gleamed on the walls in the fading light.

  “Getting nippy out here, Cubby,” Faith said as they headed over to his truck.

  “Eh.” He waved his hand. “Until my fingers freeze to an iron pipe, it isn’t cold. Not cold at all.”

  She chuckled. “Well, some of us weren’t punished as kids by having to spend the night in the barn.”

  “Warmer than my bedroom. Cows give off a lot of heat.”

  “That they do.”

  His truck was parked at the end of the lot in Cubby’s same spot he’d had the whole time he’d worked here.

  “Of course, when I started working here back in the Seventies, I had no car. I rode my bike here all the way from the Brennan farm. That was after chores, mind you. Then I’d put in my nine hours and bike all the way back.”

  “When I started working here, my mother was so excited,” Faith said. “She’d had such a good time being here.”

  “Beautiful woman.” Cubby sighed, staring off into the distance. “I did ask her to a dance at the grange hall, but she’d already met your father by that point. The first day you walked in my office, I knew it. I said, that’s Linda’s girl. You’re just like her. Smarter, though.”

  Faith smiled. “Smart enough to stay here longer than she did. I don’t see myself moving on from Van Doren.”

  “Well, you work hard and you work fast. That’s what gets rewards in my book. Now, hang on a minute.”

  Cubby sauntered around the side of the truck and opened the creaky rusty metal passenger door. He reached in with both hands and pulled a large square object off the bench seat.

  “Figured you could put this over that nice old stone mantel you got in the parlor.”

  He held up what was in his hands to show it to her. Faith gasped and put her hands to her mouth. He’d bought her a large framed vintage photograph. It depicted the Van Doren Seating Company, back when the curvy lettering had just been applied to the outside walls.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “A nice picture. It was taken back in 1910, right after the building opened. Making seats for the Ford Model T at the time. The first CEO was hired by Henry Ford himself.”

  “Awww. Thanks, Cubby. And you’re right. It will look great in my parlor.”

  “Happy birthday, kiddo,” he said.

  “It’s really nice. I’ll keep this forever.”

  She was touched. One of Cubby’s most fun hobbies was poking through flea markets and antique shops to find all kinds of old-timey things. It was a wonderful present.

  “Say, Cubby, how about you come over to my sister’s tonight. There’ll be cake and ice cream and her pot roast. Plenty of room at the table for you.”

  “Nah, that’s a night for young people. You go ahead,” he insisted.

  Faith smiled. “Well, you’ll be missed.”

  She leaned forward and gave him a hug. Was it her imagination, or did she make the old man blush? He gave her a special wink, then wished her a good night. He climbed up into his big old truck and rumbled over the gravel, driving off towards his farm on the outskirts of Chelsea.

  Faith headed over to her truck. Just like she did every night, she had to pick up her funny dog to set her on the front seat. She wedged the photograph between the passenger seat and the dashboard, then shut the door. One last time, she looked over at the Van Doren Seating Company building. Its whole exterior exuded a quiet, country charm, speaking of a bygone era and an old-fashioned, slower style of living. Kind of like a comfortable armchair with a threadbare seat and coffee stains. She pulled out her cell phone and turned around, snapping a selfie with the Van Doren building in the background.

  She posted it to Facebook with the caption:

  Ten years as COO at Van Doren! :D :D

  That’s right. Ten years ago today, when she was just twenty years old, her CEO Cubby brought her into his office and gave her the promotion. Her whip smart math skills had impressed him, as well as her natural leadership ability on the factory floor. For a decade, they’d been excellent partners. Van Doren Seating had survived all this time. She was proud of the hard work both she and Cubby put into this place. Thanks to good numbers for September, Faith had little doubt it would keep on truckin’. It had survived for nearly ninety years. She’d do everything she could to make sure it would survive another ninety.

  Well, it was getting late. Time to head over to her sister’s huge old farmhouse and cute hobby farm outside of Chelsea. Marie and Jack Paulson were expecting her. Faith started up her old truck and drove out of the parking lot. Even on a Friday night, her small hometown was deserted.

  After a turn onto West US Highway 12, she left the lights of the small town behind and headed out to the country. She rolled down her window to take a big breath of that wonderful autumn air. The drive was pleasant, Lucy hanging her huge wrinkly head and lolling pink tongue out. Faith smiled. She made another turn onto Winters Road, which
just happened to go right by the Winters Field Airport. Another half mile, and she’d be at her sister’s house. She could already taste the homemade pumpkin spice cake…

  Suddenly, she heard a small but noisy plane coming in at the airport. Curious, she slowed down and looked around for it, finally spotting it in the darkening sky. It seemed much more luxurious than the little biplanes that usually came into Chelsea. Somebody with money was coming into town. Now that was unusual!

  Bright headlights came up behind her and flashed on the road. Startled, Faith slowed down even more and pulled over, rumbling her truck’s large, rugged wheels right over the edge of the pavement and along the sandy dirt. Luckily, there was no ditch, but still! What gives? Who would be so rude as to rush up on her like that, tailgate her, and force her over? Faith finally pulled to a stop.

  An entire motorcade of large, black, expensive vehicles drove by her, including an impressive sleek limousine. Faith parked by the side of the road and waited for all the vehicles to pass her by, watching them with her mouth hanging open. She’d never seen an entourage like this before, except in a spy movie or something. Was the President arriving in Chelsea, or what?

  All the vehicles drove in a long line up ahead about forty feet, then one by one, all their bright red brake lights came on and flashed in the dark. The cars slowed down and made their right-hand turns past the tall fencing surrounding the Winters Field Airport and into the airfield itself.

  “Oh,” Faith said aloud, glancing over at Lucy. “Seems they’re here for some fancy VIP.”

  Each vehicle of the luxury motorcade pulled right up inside the airfield just as the equally luxurious private plane gently and expertly came to land. Faith still wanted to get to her sister’s house, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime scene. She had never expected anything like this in Chelsea, let alone with her as a private witness of it. She gawked at it like a tourist, unable to look away. She’d never thought she’d ever be near somebody famous enough — or rich enough — to live this kind of lifestyle. It was quite overwhelming.

  Lucy didn’t seem to care. She licked her lips a few times, then lay down on the seat, face between her paws.

  The private plane had safely landed. Several people came out from somewhere moving a large staircase on wheels. From Faith’s position, the airfield was so small and the plane so near to her, she had a pretty good view. The plane’s side door opened . . . and then two men emerged. Faith whistled. Whoa, those were expensive suits! And sunglasses, too, even at night? That made no sense to her. One of the men was tall and lanky, with blond hair and a California tan she’d never seen on anyone around here. He had a casual air about him, as if they’d arrived on a Caribbean beach instead of Chelsea, Michigan.

  The other, man, however . . .

  He seemed familiar. Something about the way his thick brown hair was perfectly coiffed over his forehead. He was shorter than his blond friend, but carried himself well, with perfect posture. Though he smiled — and Faith couldn’t stop staring at his extraordinarily handsome smile — he seemed rather standoffish. Well no wonder, she thought. He should be at some swanky city hangout. Not here. A real fish out of water.

  As she puzzled over who he was and why he was here, he started walking down the steps in front of his friend, still laughing and joking with him. Just as he got to the bottom of the staircase, he reached up and took his sunglasses off.

  Faith’s mouth dropped open.

  Oh, Lord.

  She knew exactly who it was.

  A man she had known really, really well, once upon a time.

  A man she never expected to see ever again — and would have gladly spent the rest of her entire life apart from.

  She hadn’t been this close to him since she was seventeen years old, the day he left. Left her, left his mother, left Chelsea. Left everything.

  Tristan Booker.

  What in the world was he doing back here?

  In total shock, her mouth hanging open, she gripped the steering wheel and leaned further and further over the passenger seat to get a better look at him. She couldn’t believe it was him. There was no way he’d come back here. That’s what she kept telling herself. No way he’d come back to Chelsea.

  It couldn’t be him. It had to be somebody else who looked a lot like him. A handsome, more mature version of him.

  The whole scenario didn’t make sense, and Faith was definitely at her best when things made sense. Like numbers, for instance.

  But this?

  Tristan?

  In Chelsea?

  That made no sense whatsoever. That was an equation that didn’t add up. That was a sort of math that didn’t exist yet. And for Faith, it was a whole lotta trouble she was not going to get anywhere near.

  Still staring, she watched him and his blond buddy get into the back of a luxury black SUV. More people were also exiting the plane, coming down the stairs, and getting into the other vehicles. Each person was expertly dressed, the women in perfect makeup, the men with shiny shoes. One by one, their vehicles slowly started up and crawled out of the airfield, joining the others in a large convoy that eased up the road ahead of Faith’s truck and eventually disappeared into the night.

  Okay, what was that all about?

  Faith had no idea, and she kept puzzling and puzzling over it as she put the truck back into gear and continued on her way to Marie’s house. This was definitely the weirdest thing that had happened to her in…well, in a really, really long time. Faith had the kind of quiet, comfortable, stable life some might call boring and others would call charming and sweet. She lived by herself in her parents’ home, she worked long hours but it was at a job she loved, she visited her friends and family on the weekends, and she was known in the factory for bringing in her homemade treats. Other than Lucy’s occasional strange antics, there really wasn’t that much going on in her world.

  For this to happen — a private plane with Tristan Booker on it and some sort of ultra high-end motorcade — was downright bizarre. Faith couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

  She was still thinking about it as she pulled into her sister’s driveway.

  Her older sister Marie, five months pregnant with baby number four, came out to greet her and give her a hug. Marie’s husband Jack, jovial as ever, was with her also and gave her a cheerful hello. He worked at Van Doren alongside her, and they frequently chatted. Three cute little kids, two nephews and a niece, barreled out of the old Paulson farmhouse and ran up to Aunty Faith. She laughed, letting them pet Lucy and bicker over the prospect of being the one to walk the matronly bulldog.

  Faith straightened and smiled. Though she still had her mind on Tristan, he was slowly fading from her thoughts. She loved the Paulson farm and enjoyed coming here to see her sister and all her family. The kids had also let out the family’s own bevy of dogs, most of them rescued from local shelters. They circled around Lucy, who just sat on her haunches and let them sniff her.

  “There was a new calf born last night,” Marie told her. “The kids were almost late for school, they were so excited.”

  “That’s adorable,” Faith said. “Bull or heifer?”

  “Well,” Jack replied, wiping the day’s farm chore dust on his jeans, “how ‘bout you come to the barn, Miss Gilchrist, and find out?”

  “Oh, I’d love to.”

  When the kids heard that they got even more excited, jumping up and down, clapping and grabbing onto Faith’s hands to pull her to the barn. They really wanted her to see the new calf!

  At the barn Jack sprinted over to turn the lights on, and Faith burst into a wide smile. Her sister’s family had set up a birthday table right in the center of the barn. That old barn had never been so clean. A tiered pumpkin spice cake took pride of place on the table. Several cute and clumsily wrapped presents were stacked at one end of the table. Faith couldn’t help but be touched.

  Together with his three children crowding around him, Jack brought the new calf — a sweet black and white Holstein he
ifer — out of her stall and over to greet Faith. She had her own bright orange party hat on and mooed softly. Faith chuckled and stroked the calf while Marie, Jack, and the kids sang an appropriately loud and enthusiastic version of “Happy Birthday.” As they clapped, Faith leaned forward and blew out the “30” candle on the cake. Marie started cutting slices of cake and dishing them out. Her three kids kept up a pleasant stream of chatter.

  “Did you make a wish, Aunty Faith?”

  “Thirty is so old!”

  “How old is that in dog years?”

  “That’s old in cow years, too.”

  Faith laughed. “That is old in cow years. I’m ancient!”

  “Open your presents! Open your presents!”

  Faith wiped her mouth with her napkin and agreed to open her gifts. Three little sets of wide eyes eagerly watched her as she carefully unwrapped their handiwork.

  “Why thank you guys!”

  One by one, she pulled her fantastic gifts out of their boxes: a beautiful deep red vest with a fleece lining that would be perfect for the nippy autumn weather, three gallons of Marie’s homemade spiced cider she craved every fall, and a twenty dollar gift certificate to the local pet store.

  “This one’s for you, girl,” Faith said, rubbing Lucy’s soft ears. The bulldog grunted and lay her head back down on the barn floor.

  Faith was thrilled with her gifts, and she made sure to hug and kiss and squeeze each of her nephews and niece. With cake in their bellies and a new calf to play with, the three of them got up from the table and rollicked around the barn. Jack agreed to be on temporary babysitter duty, but Faith knew he really wanted to play with the new calf, too.

  Faith and her sister got up from the table and started clearing dishes. Between the delicious dinner, yummy cake, and awesome presents, Faith had almost forgotten she’d seen Tristan tonight.

  Almost.

  Even though she still doubted her own eyes, she decided to mention it to Marie.

  “I mean, isn’t that weird?” she asked. “Honestly, I sound nuts. I don’t even think it was him. What, he just dumps me and leaves Chelsea for twelve years, only to fly in tonight on a private plane? That’s totally weird to me.”