“Here you go.”
He hopped up in the passenger seat. Faith looked good sitting behind the wheel of this monster vehicle. She expertly backed out and drove toward the highway like she was born to do it.
The autumn morning sun was pleasant, the windows were rolled down, a pop country song played on the radio, and the road trip from Chelsea to Kalamazoo started off pretty smoothly. They took Highway 94 heading west. Tristan kept looking at Faith, but she kept her eyes on the road. He could smell her light perfume and liked the way the sunlight lit up her hair. She’d look good back at his penthouse, too…
The phone rang. It was Ricky, calling for an update on the master plan to take over Van Doren. Tristan played it cool and casual.
“Yeah, we’re helping them out quite a bit. Bought a whole bunch of sewing machines to replace the old ones. Cubby signed the contract and we’re proceeding with the plans.”
“Wow, dude,” Ricky said on the other line. “I guess I should be calling up those local contractors.”
“Yep, it’s time to put them to work at Van Doren. Oh, and Ricky?” Tristan glanced around the interior of the truck. “Let’s get brand new trucks, the best you can find.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Tristan laughed and hung up. He and Ricky had gone over the details of their plan last night. They Googled all the local builders, interior decorators, and contractors to completely renovate and upgrade Van Doren. All Ricky needed was the go-ahead, and Tristan got that when Cubby signed the contract.
“Don’t put your nose in my business,” Faith said without taking her eyes off the road.
Tristan shrugged. “Do you have the money needed to upgrade Van Doren?”
“It doesn’t need it. Van Doren is fine just the way it is.”
“Right, like with thirty-year-old sewing machines and computers from the 1990s. You’ve got to stay current to be competitive.”
Faith was silent.
“Besides,” Tristan continued, “it’s not that big of a financial deal for me to do this. My net worth is over a billion. Even if it costs fifty million to upgrade Van Doren, that’s only five percent of my fortune. Relax.”
“How’d you make all that money?”
“By doing what I do best, Faith. I find companies and businesses that are past their prime. Then I buy them and turn them over to a much more qualified business that has the resources to put their products and services to better use. I recently sold a grocery store chain to Walmart for five hundred million. Impressive, huh?”
“Which grocery chain?” Faith asked.
“Eastman Foods. Heard of it?”
“I have. Their baked goods are famous.” She glanced sideways at him. “You’re despicable to do that. The Eastman family owned that chain for a long time. Now all of the people who worked for them are out of jobs. Do you even care about the people behind your profits?”
“Mr. Eastman retired with more than enough money, believe me. He can take care of the next fifteen generations.”
Faith sighed. “It’s not about just his family. Personally, I couldn’t stand behind putting a solid American company like that out of business. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”
“These businesses won’t do what Van Doren is doing. They don’t have someone like Cubby who realizes upgrades are necessary. They just want to keep doing the same old thing. Only the strong survive in the twenty-first century.”
“That opinion has nothing to do with small towns in America,” she said. “Towns like Chelsea need to keep Van Doren around. We provide two hundred and fifty jobs that not only support the workers, but their families, too. If that left? Chelsea’s economy would suffer, and that ripple effect would eventually touch everyone in the town.”
“Which is why I’m upgrading it,” Tristan said. “Van Doren has to be strong enough to survive. My firm isn’t the only one that does what it does. You’re lucky I came to town and rescued your company when I did.”
“How benevolent of you.”
Tristan grimaced. God, it was a lot of work just to have a conversation with her. He was starting to regret coming back here. But that five million dollar bet with Ricky was still on the line.
And Tristan Booker hated to lose.
Faith pulled the van into the sewing machine dealer parking lot and stopped. She wanted to wring Tristan’s neck. Spending ninety minutes listening to him go on and on about the virtues of putting small town companies out of business?
Ugh.
She slammed the van door behind her.
But when she saw the twenty brand-new boxed machines, she breathed a sigh of relief. They were perfect. In his expensive designer suit, Tristan pitched in to help load all twenty boxes onto the back of the oversized van. Faith would rather watch him actually use his real muscles instead of running his mouth all the time.
Afterwards, he handed extra wads of bonus cash to the dealer workers. Faith had never seen anybody throw money around the way Tristan did. Maybe having a billionaire come to town to help wasn’t such a bad thing. It was certainly improving her workplace.
With the sewing machines all loaded up, Faith let Tristan take the wheel this time. He got them on the highway and heading back towards Chelsea. It was getting on past one o’clock, so Tristan found a cute café on the way and pulled in to the parking lot. Faith let him pay for her sandwiches, chips, and root beer, and they enjoyed the warm September sunlight while seated outdoors.
Oddly, Faith found that it was almost normal to be having lunch with Tristan again. All those memories of dating him in high school came tumbling back. The way he’d reach for her hand. How he’d choose the darkest seats in a movie theatre so they could make out. The lazy summer days spent walking around local trails or swimming at the Waterloo State ponds. He'd pick her up in his old rusty truck. It didn’t matter where they were going or what they were doing. At school, they were both driven and compelled to succeed.
“So,” Tristan said between bites of his sandwich, “you’ve never had another job besides Van Doren?”
“Nope. I took some accounting classes online, but I didn’t get my degree.”
“That surprises me. You’re a smart girl.”
“I wanted real life experience to go along with my math class grades. Cubby has given me so many workplace opportunities I never would have gotten at any other job. I just rose up through the ranks.”
“The Booker Firm has been around for years,” Tristan said. “Wall Street didn’t see me coming.”
“Well, I didn’t keep track of your career,” Faith admitted. “Not after high school. I just chose to forget you, because you had forgotten me.”
“Oh, I remember a lot. Probably more than you realize.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. We were just kids, really. I loved you and thought we had a future.”
Tristan set down his root beer and looked into her eyes, fully and deeply, for the first time. No smarmy salesman talk, no Wall Street bravado. She’d not seen him like this, so real, in such a long time. It was as surprising as it was unexpected. In that moment, she caught a glimpse of the Tristan she’d fallen in love with. The smart, sexy guy who was her perfect mental match.
But then that look in his eyes disappeared. His phone buzzed with texts, so he turned his attention to the phone to text back.
Faith felt a little confused. Why was it so easy to start imagining him back in her life again? Had she lost her mind and completely forgotten how broken-hearted he left her? Tristan had grown ambitious in a selfish way. Faith couldn’t get past that. It was too bad, though, because he had everything going for him that would make him a guy she’d be attracted to.
They got back in the van and continued on their way to Chelsea. Faith rested against the window, briefly closing her eyes. She couldn’t believe how relieved she felt now that she was bringing back all new sewing machines to Cubby. He’d be thrilled.
“So,” Tristan said in a quiet and interested tone, “what
have you been up to these days, besides working at Van Doren?”
Faith glanced over at him. She had to smile. He looked kind of ridiculous, dressed like he was attending a fashion show and driving this huge van at the same time.
“My parents left me the house after they died, so I’m still there,” she answered. “I work a lot, I take care of Lucy, I grow plants in the summer. I love to cook. I hang out with my sister.”
“Okay.” She could tell he didn’t really comprehend just how slow-paced and comfortable her life was. “What about travel? You must make a decent enough salary to leave town once in awhile.”
“I make good money,” she said. “But I don’t really go anywhere. I’ve never been outside of Michigan.”
“What?” He laughed. “Wow, that’s . . . that’s just a waste of a life you’ve got there.”
“A waste? Just because I don’t travel? That’s judgmental. I’m happy in Chelsea.”
“But there’s so much else out there. You have to at least go to New York.”
“No, I don’t.” She folded her arms. “Would I be any happier in Manhattan than in my own town? Of course not.”
“Getting out of Chelsea would make anyone happy.”
“Tristan . . . ” She was so exasperated that for a second, she couldn’t form the words. “You don’t know anything about me. Look, you’re here at Van Doren to upgrade it, so we should try to get along. Quit judging me and quit judging Chelsea, too.”
Jeez, he was making this harder than it should be! Just had to open his big mouth. What, he thought he knew what made her happy and she didn’t? No way.
They drove on in a terse, contemplative silence the rest of the way. But the rotten mood was soon lifted when they arrived back at Van Doren to cheers and a celebration. Cubby had called up a friend of his at a nearby orchard, who brought over plenty of fall treats like apple cider, maple fudge, and cinnamon doughnuts. Cubby was so excited he hurried out to the vehicle.
“My goodness,” he said, impressed. “Alright, boys, let’s get them inside!”
One by one, the workers — with Tristan also helping — carried the twenty brand new industrial sewing machines into the building. Faith directed them where to go and helped each machine get fitted in its new spot. The old machines were taken out and loaded up for recycling. Faith was extremely pleased, and she couldn’t help grinning to see Cubby so happy, too. At first, she hadn’t wanted to upgrade this place at all. But if this was what it’d be like to have some good change? She was all for that.
Afterwards, it was time to relax with good food. Tristan poured her a cup of apple cider and clinked plastic cups with her.
“Cheers,” he said. “Van Doren can only get better.”
Faith didn’t let him spoil her good mood right now. She returned to the factory floor with her clipboard, listening to the hum of the new machines and tallying up the numbers for September. Thanks to Tristan’s generosity, they’d meet their monthly productivity numbers. And meet payroll.
She could work with that.
Chapter 8
Faith brought Lucy inside her house and poured dogfood into a bowl for the hungry bulldog. As she set it on the floor and watched Lucy gobble it up, she thought back on her day.
“That Tristan sure can be a jerk,” she said to Lucy, “but he really helped Van Doren today.”
Suddenly, she heard tires rumbling in her driveway. Who was coming to see her? It couldn’t be him, could it? One peek out the window told her that it was.
Faith rolled her eyes. Darn it. She never should have told him that she still lived here at her parents’ old house. Big mistake.
Lucy started barking and followed her mommy outside to greet the unwanted visitor. Unwanted for Faith. Lucy still seemed thrilled to have Tristan back in town. He was still driving the same ridiculously oversized van they’d driven that day, and the smile on his face made him look like a boy with a new toy.
“What are you doing here?” Faith asked just as soon as he got out of the van.
“Nice to see you, too.” He grinned. “I’ve still got that wine, the night is young, and I want to take you out to dinner.”
His persistence in wooing her was ever so slightly endearing. But mostly annoying.
“I don’t think so, Tristan. I spent three hours on the road with you today, and that wore me out. Besides, I have to be at Van Doren at six in the morning. Catching up from losing those hours today.”
“All the more reason to relax with a glass of wine,” he said. “You name the place.”
“I’d rather spend the evening with my dog.”
Lucy barked in agreement.
He smiled. “She is very cute. But I’ve got better table manners. Hop in.”
“Tristan,” Faith sighed. “I know you’re smart and successful. But frankly, I don’t like you. I’m tired of you being arrogant towards me, towards Van Doren, and even towards this town. Just leave, please.”
“Do you want to know why I came back to Chelsea?” His expression softened. “To help.”
“I don’t believe that at all. I know what you’re up to, and it isn’t remotely helpful. You don’t have to prove to any of us here in Chelsea that you’ve made the big time. If you’re trying to impress me, it’s not working.”
She was about to go back into the house but Lucy scooted right up to Tristan. Her big wrinkly lips were pulled back in a big doggy smile, and her little ears bounced as she walked. Faith watched her, curious why Lucy was so drawn to Tristan. Whatever the reason, she certainly was. She stopped right at his feet, gazing up at him with her big brown eyes.
“Hey there, big girl,” Tristan said excitedly.
She licked her lips, then suddenly her hindquarters went down. Before Faith could stop her, she was peeing right on Tristan’s shoes.
“Ugh, really, Lucy? No, don’t do that.”
Faith grabbed the dog’s collar and moved her off Tristan’s wet shoes. Embarrassed, she offered to go get paper towels for him. Tristan laughed and wiped his shoe on the grass.
“No biggie, Faith. Dogs will be dogs.” He took a deep breath. “It’s a nice night out, and Lucy could use a walk.”
“You want to take her on a walk?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
Faith was surprised by his offer. It seemed so beneath him. What could be the harm, though? At least it wasn’t as much of a commitment as expensive wine and dinner. She could do this.
“Okay, then. Yeah. We’ll go for a walk.”
He smiled. Wow, would she ever get used to seeing that smile? It made his whole face so much friendlier and his demeanor that much more relaxed. It relaxed her, too, making her feel better than she’d felt around him in a long, long time. She made a brief stop inside her house to change into comfier jeans and sneakers, then grabbed Lucy’s leash and came back out. Lucy was getting petted and rubbed, happy as could be.
With Tristan taking Lucy’s leash, the three of them casually strolled down Faith’s driveway, turned right, and made their way down the sidewalk through the quiet neighborhoods of Chelsea. Snuffling and snorting, Lucy sniffed at the base of every tree and at every curb. Faith wore her new vest from Marie and stuck her hands in the pockets. The autumn night air was crisp. It was already dark and the streetlamps were on overhead. She could hear the crickets chirping.
See, this was nice. It was the kind of regular, normal life Faith had once pictured herself enjoying with Tristan. Working at Van Doren or at a small-town business of their own together. Sharing her parents’ old house, filled with the delicious smells of her cooking. Taking their dog out on evening walks. Having kids and watching them graduate from Chelsea High. That was her version of happiness. When Tristan had abruptly dumped her and left Chelsea forever, he not only broke her heart, he took away her dreams of the future. He’d shocked her, her parents, her sister, and her friends, too. Everybody thought that they’d be the high school sweethearts who got married and grew old together. No matter what Tristan said, she
believed that life with her would’ve made him happy, too.
But now? He was ultra-competitive, as if everything only existed for him to take. He’d become arrogant and full of his own self-importance, assuming that his massive wealth made him better than everybody else. He threw money around to solve problems, but he wasn’t truly helping people. He was just showing off.
“I changed my major to business at U of M,” he explained as they slowly strolled down the street. “My adviser there was an old retired Wall Street guy who taught me the ropes and helped me get into Columbia. That’s when I met Ricky. We started the Booker Firm as partners and have taken it right to the top. I’ve built a reputation for myself in Manhattan.”
“I see,” Faith said, not even a little impressed.
His meteoric rise was definitely in line with his impatience. He’d been like that when they dated, too.
When they got to the corner, they turned right and started heading down what Faith soon remembered was Tristan’s old street. He grew up only three blocks from her, so they’d walked back and forth to each other’s houses all the time. She hadn’t been back here since. Too many painful memories. But it wasn’t just her who wanted to forget about past hard times.
“I know we didn’t talk about it much,” she said slowly, “but I am sorry about your dad.”
For once, Tristan was silent. No quick comeback, no quippy retort. It was the most touchy subject she could have brought up. For decades, Tristan’s father had been a Van Doren employee, working his way up into a comfortable managerial position. Unfortunately, all those hours at the factory made his wife, Tristan’s mother Wanda, awfully lonely. She’d started seeing Floyd when she was still married, which Tristan quickly found out about and told his dad. The affair split his family apart. When Tristan’s dad died of a heart attack just weeks after his son’s high school graduation, Tristan saw that as a sign. Wanda moved in with Floyd — and Tristan left Chelsea, never wanting to return. He left his whole life behind.
“Whatever,” Tristan finally mumbled. “That was a long time ago.”
Rekindled: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance (Lost Love Book 3) Page 7