Since You've Been Gone Read online

  Books by Tari Faris

  RESTORING HERITAGE

  You Belong with Me

  Until I Met You

  Since You’ve Been Gone

  © 2021 by Tari Faris

  Published by Revell

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  PO Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.revellbooks.com

  Ebook edition created 2021

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4934-3180-9

  Scripture quotations are from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Published in association with Books & Such Literary Management, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409-5370, www.booksandsuch.com.

  To my sisters,

  Wendy and Janette.

  Thank you for all you do to support my dream.

  Writing Leah and Caroline’s friendship was easy because you two have made sisterhood such a blessing. Love you!

  Contents

  Cover

  Half Title Page

  Books by Tari Faris

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  one

  One person can fail only so many times. That was her theory, so after two big failures in her life, a win had to be around the next corner for Leah Williams. If only her twin saw it the same way.

  Leah’s heels clicked their way up the wide sidewalk toward the office building of Heritage Fruits as her sister’s protests rambled through the phone.

  “Yes, Caroline, I’m going to this meeting, and I’m moving back home. I’ve already started airing out Grandma and Grandpa’s farmhouse.” And boy, did that house need airing out. Caroline and Grant had taken care of the most necessary maintenance, but the inside had been left pretty much untouched. At least they’d covered the furniture with sheets, but she’d still be dusting for days.

  “I just think meeting with Dale is a bad idea.” Caroline’s words were slow and articulated.

  Her sister meant well, and Leah appreciated the concern. After all, she had heard all about the problems George Kensington’s difficult brother had caused after taking over when George and his wife passed away a few years ago. But she’d had a verbal agreement with George. Dale had to honor it.

  Leah squinted against the May sun as she checked her reflection in the glass door. Pinching the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she shuffled her briefcase to the other hand and retucked her white long-sleeve blouse into the back of her navy pencil skirt. The briefcase completed her “don’t mess with me, I know what I’m doing” look, even if it was empty except for her sketchbook and her latest vintage-inspired dress that she’d stayed up until three in the morning sewing. She’d never been that great with numbers, but she’d spent most of the past two months poring over designs that would sell.

  “Why do you even want to do this?” Caroline’s words had taken on that big-sister tone. Somehow being four minutes older made Caroline believe she had all the answers. No doubt she’d be blocking Leah’s path this minute if she wasn’t eight months pregnant and on bed rest. “You were the one who convinced me we should close the WIFI to begin with.”

  “I know, but things are different now.”

  She’d closed the WIFI with hopes of capturing a little bit of the passion and fulfillment her brother David had written about in his letters. But being a missionary hadn’t filled that nagging desire for purpose she’d been seeking for so long. She’d just been living someone else’s life—again. But that wasn’t something she fully understood herself, let alone would be able to explain in a two-minute phone conversation with Caroline.

  “I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” Leah popped the briefcase open just far enough to shove her phone inside. She smoothed a wisp of her red hair back toward the severe bun that pinched her scalp. But binding her wild curls would be a small price to pay if it meant she’d walk away with a renewed lease.

  She entered the building, crossed the lobby, and punched the elevator button. When the doors opened, she stepped inside, selected the fourth floor, and drew a slow, calming breath as the elevator rose to the top.

  It opened to a quiet lobby and the twelve-foot ceilings that she remembered. But the sleek, frosted-glass reception desk and no-nonsense young blonde who sat behind it—not so much. What had happened to George’s secretary with her warm smile and candy bowl full of peppermints?

  “May I help you?” The woman looked up from her computer, but her fingers stayed positioned over the keyboard.

  The bowl of peppermints had been replaced with a brass nameplate that read MARCY GOLD and the warm smile replaced with tight red lips. Leah searched her mind for any Golds she might have gone to school with but came up empty. So much for making a friendly connection.

  “I have a meeting with Mr. Kensington.”

  “He’s running late. Take a seat.” Marcy pointed at one of the stiff-looking couches and returned to her typing.

  Leah turned that way but paused at a large portrait of George Kensington and his family mounted on one wall. Below it was a brass plaque with the birth and death dates of George and his wife. By the look of their son Jon, it had to have been taken when he was in high school. Back when he was still all arms and legs. She almost didn’t recognize the wide-shouldered point guard who now played for Valencia Basket in the EuroLeague. Her hometown of Heritage, Michigan, had practically had a parade the day one of their very own signed to play professional basketball—even if it was for a European team in a city most of them couldn’t find on a map.

  She and Jon had been enemies since high school, but everything had changed six months ago. Now she didn’t know what they were, but seeing his portrait hanging there definitely stirred emotions she wasn’t ready to deal with.

  SIX MONTHS AGO

  Leah couldn’t be stranded in Detroit—not today. Every airline had already canceled all evening flights with the forecast of the incoming storm, but the lady at the counter had been optimistic that her flight would get out of Detroit before the worst of the blizzard hit. Then again, her flight to Grand Rapids was supposed to have boarded twenty minutes ago. She had only six hours until Olivia and Nate’s wedding, and she couldn’t miss it. She was a bridesmaid. Why did it have to be this year that they got a snowstorm for Thanksgiving?

  “Do you think we’re going to be stuck here?” A deep baritone spoke from behind Leah.

  “I hope not, I need to get—” She turned toward the man but found herself looking at a wide shoulder. She tilted her head back and paused. Jonathan George Kensington
the Third. The crown prince of Heritage if there’d ever been one, and her archenemy in high school. “Home.”

  Leah spun back to the monitor as she tugged her knitted hat down a little farther. How dare he be in her airport? Maybe it was a little egocentric to think of Detroit Metropolitan as hers, but the great thing about millions of people flying in and out of it every year was that she shouldn’t have to see anyone she knew.

  Especially him looking all good after hours of travel. His brown hair was a little long for her tastes, but his mess of curls worked. The week-old scruff only added to his good looks. Her red mop looked more like the result of an unfortunate incident with a light socket, and her face needed a good exfoliant.

  He took another step closer. “Nice bag.”

  Leah’s face flamed as she tugged her backpack to her front and out of his view. No doubt it didn’t measure up to his designer standards. But she’d made it from pieces of her grandfather’s old corduroys. It was one of the few items of his that she’d kept. There was no price she could put on it, but she wouldn’t expect trust-fund Jon to understand that. “Do I know you?”

  Maybe it was a little immature, but she was in no mood for a reunion. She glanced at the departures board as another flight’s status flipped to canceled.

  Jon nudged her shoulder with his. “I know you know who I am, Leah.”

  Typical Jon, thinking he’d be unforgettable. Never mind that he was right. She jerked her head back toward him. His large brown eyes, outlined by dark lashes she’d kill for, held a touch of amusement. She’d try to deny remembering him, but that smirk said he was onto her. “It’s Caroline, actually. And you’re Jonny, right?”

  He released a deep laugh as he crossed his arms over his wide chest. “Nice try. Unlike most of our old high school, I could always tell you and your twin apart. Think we should go try to get a rental car while we can?”

  “We? There’s no we. I barely remember you.”

  She hadn’t seen the guy in three years and suddenly he was acting like they were long-lost friends, but they had never been friends to begin with. Maybe they had many of the same friends, but that was not the same thing.

  “You’re obviously waiting for the flight to Grand Rapids. I figured since we’re both trying to get to Heritage that . . .” He held up his hand and took a step back. “You know what? Never mind. Good seeing you, Leah.” He walked away but stopped to nudge a teenage girl’s leg. “Abby, let’s go.”

  Abby stood and followed her brother without taking her eyes off her phone.

  Leah hadn’t seen Abigail Kensington in probably four years. Long gone was the brace-faced, bubbly eighth grader who wore gummy bracelets and headbands. This girl wore heavy black eyeliner, and her hair was dyed to match. Her red leather coat and threadbare jeans probably cost more than Leah’s entire wardrobe.

  Leah turned back as more flights changed their status to canceled. Please oh please, Lord, I’ve got to get home. God seemed to have forgotten about her, but maybe today would finally be her day for an answered prayer.

  Another flight flipped to canceled. Or maybe not.

  The snow continued to fall, thick now as it reached for the ground. Then the last remaining flight—her flight—changed its status to canceled. She sighed, her bag drooping from her shoulder as a bitter taste filled her mouth. Now what? Maybe she should call Caroline. But there was nothing her sister could do all the way from Heritage.

  Any hope of renting a car disappeared a few minutes later as she descended the escalator. Every line that led to a car rental company had to be over fifty people long.

  As soon as she stepped off the escalator, Jon blocked her path with a set of keys dangling from one finger and that annoying smirk back in place. “Need a ride?”

  She nodded and waited for the inevitable “I told you so,” but he just picked up her suitcase with his free hand and motioned for her to follow.

  Thirty minutes later, they navigated the icy highway at a whopping thirty miles an hour. She still had five hours until the wedding, which would’ve been no problem on a day with clear roads, but at this rate she’d be rushing down the aisle with her carry-on still on her shoulder.

  “Where are you flying home from?” Jon kept his eyes fixed on the road as he gripped the wheel with both hands.

  “Costa Rica.”

  “Vacation?”

  “No. Do you remember my brother, David? He’s about three years older than you.”

  “Vaguely.”

  “He lives there and runs a program for missionary kids. I moved down there two years ago to help him out. I’m just flying home for Olivia’s wedding.” She dropped her phone in her purse and dialed up the temperature on her heated seat. At first she’d rolled her eyes at Jon throwing his family’s money around by choosing the luxury SUV. But she had to admit, she’d feel a lot less comfortable on these icy roads in one of those compacts they’d passed in the lot.

  “I was planning on going to that too. Maybe you could save me a dance.”

  Was it her imagination, or did he sound a little unsure for the first time? Either way, it was best to avoid answering. “I have to fly back to Costa Rica first thing Monday.”

  “As in the day after tomorrow?”

  “I didn’t really have the time to take this trip, but I couldn’t miss another one of my best friends’ weddings. I already missed Hannah’s.”

  “But that was to be expected, right?”

  Her head whipped toward him. “Why? Because I might have stood up and made a scene when Nate asked if anyone objected? I may have had an adolescent crush on Luke, but I think I could’ve handled it even without you pointing out that I wasn’t good enough for him. Again.”

  “What? I never said that.” He started to angle his head toward her but seemed to catch himself, and his attention snapped back to the road, where the falling snow obscured anything beyond fifty feet.

  “You’re right.” Leah positioned one of the vents to point at her. “I believe your words were, ‘I can’t believe you think you have a chance with Luke. He’s a gray T-shirt kind of guy and you’re not a gray T-shirt kind of girl. You need to wake up and see what’s in front of you.’ Aka, ‘You dress funny and you’re not good enough for my friend.’”

  “Whoa—that’s harsh.” Abby spoke up from the back seat. They were the first words she’d spoken all night. Leah had almost forgotten she was there.

  “That’s not what I meant.” He glared at his sister in the rearview mirror. “Weren’t you listening to music?”

  “Your fighting was louder than my music. Think you two could keep it down?” She shoved her earbuds back in.

  His hands gripped the wheel a little tighter now. “What happened to barely remembering me?”

  “Fine. I have one memory.” Or at least one that stood out more than the rest. She’d only let Caroline invite Jon to their anti-Valentine’s party because she knew he’d drag Luke along. Jon had been right about one thing that night—Luke only had eyes for Hannah. And why not? Hannah was tall, gorgeous, built like a ballerina, and she dressed . . . normal. Leah, on the other hand, was of average height and average build, had wild, curly red hair, and dressed like a secondhand store had erupted on her.

  Jon sighed and offered Leah a fake smile if she’d ever seen one. “How are you enjoying Costa Rica?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Fine? I’ve seen a lot of pictures of Costa Rica, and fine is not the word I’d use to describe it.” The dim light outside highlighted his profile. If it weren’t for his slightly crooked nose, he probably could have a successful career as a model. But he was a little too rough for that.

  “The place is amazing. The kids are amazing.” She wasn’t really in the mood to hash this out right now. She shrugged and prayed he’d take the hint.

  “If you don’t like Costa Rica, you should come visit me in Europe. There’s the café in Paris that—”

  “No way.” She winced at the volume of her words. “Sorry. I jus
t am not going to Europe and I’ll never go to Paris.”

  He waited for her to go on, but he could wait the rest of the drive to Heritage, because that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Okay, no Paree. Then what don’t you like about Costa Rica?”

  So they were back to this. As much as she didn’t want to get into it, this was an easier conversation than Paris. “I thought I’d enjoy my job in Costa Rica more. I miss Heritage. I miss running the WIFI.”

  “That was such a weird name for a store.”

  “When my grandfather opened the store in 1952, WIFI was catchy. You have to admit the abbreviation for Want It Find It made more sense before the digital age.”

  “True. But if you miss running it, maybe you should come home and open it again. Do you still own the building?”

  “Only half of it. You own the other half.”

  “What?”

  “Well, your dad did. Or technically, Heritage Fruits did.” Jon seemed to grip the steering wheel a little bit tighter at her words, but he didn’t comment, so she went on. “He didn’t buy us out because he wanted us to have the option to reopen if we changed our minds. We didn’t have anything in writing, but there was a verbal agreement that we could come back and reopen within five years.”

  “Then change your mind and go back. It’s only been what, three years?”

  “It didn’t make it the first time.” She ran her fingers across the soft leather seat. “Why do you think I could make it this time?”

  “You just need a solid business model. And maybe a new name. What model did you go with last time? Or did Caroline handle that?”

  “Caroline handled the books. I made other decisions—inventory, marketing, and customer service. I used the Leah model.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If you act like you know what you’re doing, people believe you. It worked most of the time.”

  “A fake-it-till-you-make-it approach.” His full laugh filled the SUV. “My uncle would love that. With him handling the company right now, you’d have to convince him to let you reopen.”

  “I wouldn’t tell him that was the plan. I’d say, ‘The WIFI was a central piece of this community that George believed in, and I believe in it too. If you give me a chance, I’ll show you how dynamic it can be again.’”