The Girl I Used to Be: A gripping and emotional page-turner

by Heidi Hostetter

  “Okay, then. Keep going.”

  “After the hurricane, programs were set up to help residents whose homes had been destroyed and were funded without a proper plan for distribution.” Jill rose from her seat and began to pace. “And all that money attracted the wrong kind of people, so the state added restrictions. One of the biggest was that commercial property wasn’t eligible. So if you did submit commercial property, your claim would be rejected right away and you’d get a letter like this one.” Jill scooped a page from the table. “I think this is the document Marc showed the judge.”

  “A rejection?”

  “Yes, but the thing is, Marc wouldn’t have accepted a rejection, especially with that much money involved. He would have appealed the decision—he appealed decisions all the time. So I kept looking.”

  “And?”

  “Two years ago, the property classification changed again. And just like that, Marc’s commercial property became residential and was now eligible for state money.” She lifted another paper from the pile and offered it to Ellie. “Marc submitted a claim and this time, the state paid.”

  “So the financial packet is wrong?” Ellie scanned the page then looked up. “That seems like a pretty big deal. What’re you going to do?”

  “That part I don’t know.” Jill sat on the floor opposite Ellie. “Honestly, I’m not surprised, and I should be, you know?” She told Ellie about the subcontractor Marc had refused to pay and how the incident still bothered her. “That man had a family to support.” She couldn’t look at Ellie, so she found a crease on her jeans and smoothed it away.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was embarrassed to, I guess. Marc seemed so perfect in the beginning—made me feel special, you know? He took me to places I never could have afforded to go on my own, opened a world I never imagined. But the most important thing was that he chose me. Marc could have had anyone, and I was the one he picked. Later, when things started to change, I thought I was the problem, so I tried harder to make him happy.”

  “Oh, Jilly.” Ellie’s voice was unbearably gentle.

  Jill could feel the pinprick of tears but shook them off. She sniffed and swiped her sleeve roughly across her face. “It’s fine. It’s over now, Marc and me.” She cleared her throat as she straightened. “But what he did to those people in Dewberry Beach is unforgivable. They don’t get another chance.” She finally raised her gaze to meet Ellie’s. “That house stands as a reminder of what he did. I didn’t understand before, but I do now. I have to do something.”

  “Like what?”

  “I have an idea.”

  “Tell me.” Ellie brightened. “Whatever it is, I’m in.”

  “You’re lucky you caught me,” Marc said when Jill called him on Friday morning. “I’m on my way back up to the new site. In fact, I’m leaving this afternoon.”

  “Then let me buy you lunch today.” Jill softened her voice, though it made her skin crawl to do so. She and Ellie had come up with a great plan, but it depended on Marc meeting Jill for lunch. She sighed, manufacturing regret. “I just want to talk to you, Marc. It won’t take long.”

  Marc hesitated and Jill held her breath.

  “Sure, why not.” She could almost see him shrug. “How about Woodblock? One o’clock?”

  “Perfect. I’ll make the reservations. It’ll be good to see you again,” she added, through gritted teeth.

  She could feel Ellie tense beside her and for a moment thought she’d gone too far.

  “You too, Jilly,” Marc answered, his voice a deep rumble.

  She disconnected and scrubbed the goosebumps from her skin. Then she glanced at Ellie, a slow smile curling her lips. “He said yes.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Twenty-Four

  By 12.30 p.m., Jill was dressed and ready to meet Marc.

  She stood before the bathroom mirror in Ellie’s empty apartment and drew a breath to steady her nerves. Appearance was everything to Marc, and she worried that her new haircut and clothes would be too much of a change for him. Even so, she refused to go back to the woman she was with him, even for this, so in the end, Jill decided to dress like herself. She paired a slouchy white T-shirt with a borrowed black pencil skirt, then added a low-slung black belt around her hips and zipped up Ellie’s ankle boots. On her way out the door, she slipped on a black vintage leather jacket and added a swipe of bright red lipstick.

  When she arrived at the restaurant, she walked to the hostess station.

  “I’m Jill DiFiore. I’m supposed to be meeting someone?”

  The hostess glanced at her book. “Yes. He’s already seated. This way please.”

  They crossed the dining room toward the table Jill had reserved. As they got closer, she saw Marc sitting comfortably, his arm resting across the chair next to him, and her stomach lurched at the sight of him. After everything they’d been through, she’d expected him to—wanted him to—look haggard and stressed, but he didn’t. Instead he looked much as he always had—confident and handsome, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Looking closer, Jill recognized the cashmere sport coat she’d bought him for Christmas the year before.

  All at once, Jill faltered as the past slammed into her. She wasn’t sure she could go through with this, wasn’t sure she was strong enough. In business, Marc always came out ahead. What did she have? Nothing but a desire to right an injustice. That might not be enough, especially against someone like him.

  “Are you okay?” The hostess’s smile was etched with concern, and Jill realized that she’d stopped right in the middle of the dining room.

  “Yes, thank you. I’m fine.” Jill shook her head. “I thought I might have left my phone in the car. But I didn’t. I have it.”

  She followed the hostess to the table, projecting a confidence she didn’t possess. In reality, her dread grew with every step as she moved closer to Marc. She managed to smile at him before taking her seat and accepted a menu from the hostess, then pretended to scan the list of specials clipped to the front as she gathered her nerve.

  “Your waiter will be right with you.”

  Jill nodded, not trusting her voice.

  “Wow,” Marc leered, as soon as they were alone. “You’ve changed. You look good.”

  Jill suppressed a shudder.

  When she was ten years old, Jill had wanted to be an actress. That summer at Aunt Sarah’s, Jill had written and directed a play that was so horrible she’d had to bribe her cousins with candy to participate. The costumes had been scavenged from trunks in the attic and the backdrops were mostly crayoned pictures. The play was awful and only kindness kept the audience in their seats, but that didn’t matter. Jill had loved the idea of slipping into an entirely new personality.

  She did that now.

  “Thanks, I had it cut.” Actress-Jill flicked her fingers through her hair, beaming at the man she’d come to loathe. “I thought it was time.”

  “New clothes too. I like it.” His glance lingered a little too long.

  She shrugged. Had she ever been attracted to that tone of voice? She certainly wasn’t now.

  Because she wasn’t sure how to begin, she stalled a little. Settling into her chair, she opened her napkin and smoothed it across her lap. “How’s Brittney?”

  It was the first thing she could think of and clearly the wrong choice.

  Marc’s expression snapped shut and his eyes turned cold. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” Jill reached for her water and sipped to clear her dry throat. Actress-Jill needed to get it together.

  “What are you up to?” Marc’s voice was wary. The moment Marc considered Jill an opponent, it was over.

  “Up to?” Jill shrugged again, this time coquettishly. “I’m not up to anything.”

  “Jillian,” Marc warned, his voice softer. “I know you. I know your tricks.”

  She tilted her head as if debating whether to let him in on the secret. She added a delicate sigh, the kind he used
to find attractive. “Fine.” She smiled as if he’d never had an affair. Or broken her heart. Or tried to ruin her life. “I guess I should know better than to try to fool you.”

  “That’s better…”

  “The truth is, I wanted to meet with you today because I’m thinking about starting a company, like you did.”

  “Oh, really?” He leaned back, amused. Jill pressed her palms together on her lap to keep from slapping the smugness from his face. “The Princess of South Jersey is going into business now?”

  They were interrupted by the server who’d arrived to take their drink orders. From their very first date, Marc had insisted on ordering for her, and she’d never liked it. This was one thing, however small, that she could take back.

  She saw him open his mouth to speak and shifted her gaze to the server. “I’d like an iced tea, lots of ice please.” Then she kicked herself for choosing this moment to assert her independence. She should have let him order for her, same as always. What good did it do to antagonize him now?

  She flashed an apologetic smile and hoped it was enough.

  Marc ordered a Scotch for himself, a drink he only ordered with friends. This was encouraging.

  After the server left, Actress-Jill picked up the thread of the conversation. She forced a breezy tone, laced with just a hint of flirtation, and hoped it wasn’t too much. Actress-Jill could be a little over the top. “You did me a favor, you know, with the house in Dewberry Beach, though I have to admit, I didn’t realize it at the time.” She adjusted the stack of bracelets on her wrist in a casual way, as if their conversation was small talk charged with something more. It was part of the game.

  “Oh? How so?”

  “The place is a gold mine, Marc.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice to a whisper. “What you did down there was genius. I found the deeds for the properties in Mantoloking,” she breathed. “It took me days to find them and even longer to put it all together.”

  “What were you doing digging around in the records office?”

  The waiter arrived with their drinks and she reached for her iced tea and sipped, hoping to slow the pace. Marc was greedy but he wasn’t stupid, and she needed to tread carefully. This plan wouldn’t work if she pushed, so she’d make him come to her. As she set her glass down, she lifted her shoulder in a gentle shrug. “The agent wanted information for the closing. I had to find it.”

  That got him.

  “Wait…” Marc stiffened. “You sold the Dewberry Beach house?”

  “I did,” she pouted. “I was disappointed to let it go, to be honest. But what’s important is what I found…” She reached across the table for his arm, though she had to force herself to do it. “Marc. The Green Acres program is still accepting claims. It’s still paying out.” She bit her bottom lip, remembering how he liked that. “What you did with the Mantoloking properties was inspired. I want you to show me how to do it.”

  He shifted back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Fine.” Jill shrugged. “Have it your way, but you should know there are other opportunities down there, a few you’ve missed. A couple of federal programs are still paying out too. But the claim needs to be perfect. And you’ve done it before…”

  “What do you mean?” Marc’s eyes brightened and she knew he was hooked. He was never one to leave money on the table.

  “We should partner. I’ll give you…” She pretended to consider. “Thirty percent?”

  Jill rested her chin on her hand and waited. The emotions flickering across Marc’s face were very telling. First there was disbelief at being discovered, then petulance at being called out, and finally greed. When she saw the others fade and greed remain, she knew she had him.

  “Seventy-five,” Marc countered.

  Jill tilted her head and frowned. “Forty-five.”

  “Sixty-five.”

  “Deal.” She reached across the table to shake his hand. “Now you have to tell me how you did it. I’m curious: were you the one who found the relief programs or was that Cush? Because I’m not sure he would have known how.”

  “It was me.” Marc puffed up. “Cush does only what I tell him to do, nothing more.”

  “Okay then. Tell me how you did it.” He retreated a little, so Jill tugged the hook. “Unless you don’t need the money? The Berkshire project is going well?”

  That did it.

  Marc told Jill everything. How he’d tracked the hurricane’s path—not out of concern for the victims but to identify the hardest hit areas as opportunities for later. Pushing the permitting through was easy because his father-in-law was a simple man and easily overwhelmed. After that, he went to Trenton and lied there too.

  And then word had got out.

  He’d had a feeling Chase Bennett was watching, but he couldn’t be sure. So he’d moved south to Mantoloking, calling upon distressed owners and buying their ravaged homes for pennies on the dollar. He’d had no intention of rebuilding, he said. By then he knew the state would make property owners whole and all he needed to do was wait.

  “My only mistake was having Cush change the zoning from residential to commercial.”

  “Because of the hearings?”

  “No,” Marc scoffed as he lifted his drink. “There were no hearings. It was a free-for-all back then and we submitted false papers. That part was easy.”

  “So why was zoning your only mistake?”

  “It was a good idea at first.” Marc sipped, mistaking her scrutiny for admiration. “There’s no valuation for commercial properties so the claim I filed could be for whatever amount I chose, and it was.” He chuckled. “We inflated the crap out of that property value. But then they changed the rules.”

  There was some hope the restrictions would be lifted eventually so Marc had waited. But he’d needed money to buy land for the Berkshire development and he didn’t have it. He’d known he couldn’t wait any longer, so he’d submitted the claim. When the payment had come through, he’d had Cush travel to Freeport to deposit the money in a special account.

  “But it wasn’t enough,” Marc concluded. “We were short a couple hundred thousand.”

  “And that’s why you took out a mortgage on the Dewberry house?” Jill asked, careful to keep the resentment from her voice.

  To her surprise, Marc looked shocked. “You’re not still mad about that, are you, babe? It was business, that’s all. You were never supposed to find out.”

  “Sure. I understand.” Though it was difficult, Jill flashed an appreciative smile. “But I interrupted. Please go on.”

  “Since you’re at the shore now, you can set up a base. Scout out damaged properties and buy them for almost nothing. Send me pictures and I’ll have them declared uninhabitable, even if they’re not. We can fix that paperwork to say anything we want. Then we’ll have Cush submit the claim—”

  “Because he’s done it before,” Jill added. “Submitted a false claim?”

  “Yeah. Some of those federal programs are so big they can’t possibly review every claim—they just pay out.” He leaned back, clearly pleased with himself. “It’s the easiest money we’ll ever make.”

  “You did all that?” Jill squeezed her hands together on her lap to keep them from shaking. “On the Mantoloking properties? You filed a fake claim, and it paid?”

  Marc preened. “I did. And I would have submitted a claim for the Dewberry Beach house too, but I would have been caught. But you don’t have to worry—federal programs will pay out forever. All they care about is the right documents.”

  Jill beamed, and this time it was genuine. She’d gotten what she needed. She gathered her things and stood. “Great. I think we’re finished here.”

  “Where are you going?” Marc’s brow creased with confusion.

  Jill ignored him. Instead, she gestured to Ellie, who had been seated at the table behind them, at the second table Jill had reserved. “Did you get it?”

  “I did indeed.” Ellie’s smile was
triumphant as she rose. “Every bit.”

  “Then let’s get out of here.” Jill grabbed her coat and turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Marc commanded. Other diners had turned toward them, so he lowered his voice. “What is this? What’s going on?”

  Jill paused then, to savor the expression on his face, the indignation and confusion. It was glorious.

  “Since you asked so nicely,” she said as she slipped her coat on, “couple of things. First, you admitted to defrauding the federal government, which is bad.”

  “So bad.” Ellie shook her head sadly.

  “Then you told me you intended to do it again, which is worse.” Jill shrugged. “But I’m just a Jersey Girl so I can’t be sure. So I guess I’ll have to send the video Ellie took on her phone to Chase Bennett’s office and have him look at it. You remember Chase? Turns out he knows a lot about financial fraud and he still has federal connections.”

  Marc’s face turned a shade of purple that she’d never seen before. And it was delightful.

  “Jilly…” he croaked.

  She laughed and it felt wonderful. “You are in soooo much trouble.”

  She walked through the restaurant with Ellie at her side.

  “Next time can I wear a wire?” Ellie asked. “I’ve always wanted to.”

  “F’get it.” Jill leaned into her friend. “That’s all I can take.”

  Twenty-Five

  After returning from the restaurant, Jill headed for the bathroom and turned on the shower. Lunch with Marc had been tense and now she was exhausted. It wasn’t only what he’d done—it was the person she’d become when she was with him. It was unnerving how quickly she’d changed for him, how ready she’d been to abandon who she was to become what he’d wanted her to be.

  Jill stood in the shower for a long time, feeling the hot water warm her skin and trying to wash away the chill.

  When she emerged from the bathroom sometime later, wrapped in a bathrobe, Ellie was ready. She had her laptop open and a look of deep concentration on her face.

  “What’s all this?” Jill asked.