“Can we get someone else?” Jill asked suddenly. “A family who’ll fit in, with kids who’ll like the beach and maybe bring their friends to visit?” It was what Dewberry needed, a family who’d appreciate the town. Not a company who’d take advantage of the building code.
“You want me to find a family to buy this house?” Seth echoed.
“Yes.” Jill spoke quickly. “What if we lowered the price? I don’t care about profit. I just want the right people living here. Someone the neighbors will like.”
Seth blinked, clearly stunned. Jill squeezed her hands together as she waited. Maybe it could work.
“If you lowered the price that much and put the house back on the market,” Seth said eventually, “an investor would snap it up before a family ever had a chance to see it. Then, a smart investor would put the house back on the market. He might even hire me to list it. In that case, I’d contact the buyer you turned down and we’d would sell to them anyway.”
Jill shot Ellie a look of desperation.
Ellie understood. She rose from the table. “I, for one, could use a five-minute break. Would anyone like a bit more coffee? Won’t take more than a minute to start a fresh pot.”
Sheri glanced at Seth, then went to join Ellie. “I’ll help you.”
“Ms. DiFiore,” Seth began, when they were alone. “Is it your intention to sell this house? Because I thought that’s what you wanted when you hired me to list it.”
“Yes, of course. You’re right. I do need to sell this house,” Jill said quickly.
Seth’s phone buzzed with an incoming text and he glanced at the screen. “It’s the buyers. They want to know if you’ve accepted their offer.” He stood up. “I’ll give them a call and tell them we’re just finishing up.”
Jill left the table as well. She made her way to the far wall, to the bank of windows overlooking the ocean. A wisp of fog floated across water and a pale orange sun lit it from behind. Even this early in the morning, there was activity on the beach. On the shoreline, a trio of young women walked together barefoot, their pant legs rolled to the knee. An unexpected wave reached them, and they jumped, howling with laughter as the cold water splashed their legs. Further up the beach, a man and his daughter kneeled on the wet sand, pointing to something in the tidepool. He grabbed her suddenly, breaking her concentration and making her giggle. A moment later, he wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her toddler body in a bear hug, both their faces alight with joy. Jill felt herself smile.
Then she imagined that same little patch of shore strewn with beer bottles and garbage from a party hosted in this very house. The noise and the traffic would change Dewberry Beach, and not for the better. The image made her recoil. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t take advantage of them as Marc had.
But she didn’t seem to have a choice.
As much as she wanted to protect Dewberry Beach from Shore Parties Unlimited, she couldn’t afford to. This was a solid offer and she couldn’t afford to wait for another. And Seth was right—an offer this good would not come again.
She returned to the table, decision made. Even if it wasn’t the one she wanted.
“I’m sorry, Seth, you’re right. This offer is extraordinary, and you sold the house faster than I’d imagined.” As she reached for the pen, a movement outside the window next to her caught Jill’s attention. It was her neighbor, Nancy Pellish, in her wide-brimmed sun hat and gardening gloves, circling the plum tree her grandfather had brought over from Italy.
Jill glanced toward the front of the house, at the road in front of the Pellish home. The street was still in the quiet of the morning, the black asphalt road dusted with beach sand. She imagined a street lined with cars, littered with broken bottles and trash. The inside of this house thumping with music and noise.
The idea was heartbreaking, and Jill couldn’t be a part of it.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do it.” She put down the pen and hoped Seth would understand. “I can’t sell to Shore Parties. The people here don’t deserve what’s about to happen to them.”
After delivering the news, Jill looked away. There would be repercussions, of course. Seth would refuse to continue the listing and the bank would foreclose. But after everything Dewberry Beach had been through, Jill couldn’t bring herself to add to their pain.
“Looks like we’ve come just in time.”
Jill’s gaze flew to the foyer. Chase and Mrs. Ivey stood there, windswept and pink from the morning’s chill, with Ellie right behind them. After the last conversation she’d had with Chase, she was surprised to see him here, suited up and determined, with a briefcase in his hand. Well, if he’d come to make her feel bad, he had another think coming.
As Ellie guided Mrs. Ivey to the table, Jill rose and went to meet Chase.
“Hello, Jill.”
“Mr. Bennett.”
“I’ve come to apologize. I like to believe I’m a good judge of character, but in your case, I was wrong. I know Marc’s feelings about this house, and I imagined you felt the same way. When you came to town to sell it, I was convinced, but I was wrong. I’ve misjudged your attachment to this house as badly as I’ve misjudged you, and I’m sorry. I was so swept up in telling you our side of the story that I didn’t listen to yours.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Ryan showed me the video you sent him, from your lunch meeting with Marc.” Chase glanced at Ellie and his expression changed. Jill thought she saw a flash of admiration. “Then Ellie came to see me yesterday afternoon.”
“Ellie? As in my best friend Ellie?”
“Oh, yes. She had quite a bit to say to me and she can be refreshingly blunt.” He smiled over at Ellie. “Among other things, she insisted that you didn’t want to sell this house at all—that given the choice, you’d raze it to the ground. Is that still true?”
Jill glanced across the room to the side window, where Mrs. Pellish was cutting back her plum tree in a losing battle to keep it alive.
“Yes,” Jill said simply. “It is.”
Chase beamed. “Wonderful. Then the problem becomes one of finance and those are easy to solve.” He gestured to the agents at the table. “Would you mind if I interrupted your meeting? I have an idea that will benefit both of us.”
“Sure.” She had nothing to lose now.
When they got to the table, Chase offered each agent a firm handshake before settling into a chair opposite them. “You must be Seth. And Sheri. I’m Chase Bennett, and I’m pleased to meet you both. Please excuse our interruption, but we have a proposal that you’ll find interesting.”
Confused, Seth glanced at Jill, who nodded for him to listen. She had no idea where this was headed, but if Ellie was involved, then she’d trust it.
Chase withdrew a folder from his briefcase and set it on the table. Then he directed his attention to the agents. “A friend of ours, Billy Jacob, owns a large brownstone in Brooklyn and he wants to sell it. We’d like you to list it and handle the sale.” Chase slid several pages of photographs across the table. “Mr. Jacob owns this entire building.”
Seth accepted the packet and flipped the pages. “The building’s been restored. Original transom windows and fixtures, right down to the glass doorknobs.” He glanced up, a smile on his face. “Pre-war brownstones are almost non-existent these days. Most of them have been divided into apartments but this one is whole. This one… this is a treasure.”
“I’d hoped you’d think so,” Chase replied. “We’d like to offer you Mr. Jacob’s listing in exchange for dropping this listing.”
Jill tensed. “Dropping this listing” wasn’t what she wanted at all.
Seth looked to Jill. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do? I know you’re not crazy about these buyers, but you don’t have to be. Their offer is solid, and if you turn them down, you’ll be walking away from quite a bit of money.”
Jill drew a breath. She felt Ellie beside her, and she trusted her friend. “I think we should listen to them, a
t least.”
Mrs. Ivey rose from her chair. “Why don’t we all go into the kitchen and chat a bit? I have some basic information to get you started and a few extra pictures of the renovation in case you want them.”
Jill watched as Seth, Sheri, and Mrs. Ivey left the table and made their way across the room. Then she turned to Chase. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
He withdrew a second folder from his briefcase and placed it in front of her. “Billy owns what is generously called a motel on the edge of town. Do you know it?”
Jill remembered Stacy mentioning it and nodded. It was the same motel she’d tried to check into when she first came to town. The place was ghastly.
“The property was beautiful in its time. A few cabins on mostly green space with a copse of shady trees and winding paths.” Chase waved his hand through the air. “The details aren’t important, except to say that now the property is terribly run-down and Billy doesn’t have the interest or the time to revive it. Brenda has always wanted to transform the property into an artists’ retreat, but we couldn’t figure out a way to do that, until now.”
Jill leaned back in her chair. “I don’t understand.”
“One solution fed the other, and it was brilliant. Brenda needs building material for her retreat, and you have a house that needs to be razed. Our idea is to buy everything we need for the artists’ retreat from you—everything that can be salvaged, from furnishings and linens to, well, as I said, everything that can be salvaged.” Chase reached into his briefcase for a stapled printout and offered it to her. “This list is a good start, but I think we can do better. We’d also like to buy fixtures, drywall, cabinets: everything.”
“Where did you get this?” Jill glanced at the list. It was the inventory she’d put together back when she thought selling the contents might pay for the demolition.
“I got it from Marc’s office,” Ellie replied. “Last night, when I said I needed to borrow a pen? I found your list, then went to find Mr. Bennett.”
“You did indeed,” Chase answered. “Gave me an earful too.”
Jill looked at the list again. “Will that work? I mean, Billy can have whatever he wants, and he’s welcome to it, but it won’t pay for bulldozers and haul-away. And what am I supposed to do with a vacant lot? I can sell it, but what if the buyer is another Marc?”
“I think we have everything we need, Mr. Bennett.” Seth and Sheri returned to the table. He offered his hand and shook Chase’s. “We’ll be in touch and thank you.” He turned to Jill and smiled. “I’ll contact the buyers and tell them the house is off the market. I wish you the best, Ms. DiFiore. I really do.”
Jill showed them out and returned to the table.
“They were nice,” Mrs. Ivey decided. “So what did I miss?”
“Jill had just pointed out that clearing the land might attract another developer with Marc’s lack of scruples,” Chase explained. “Then we’d have the same problem.”
“You didn’t tell her?”
Chase shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Oh, honey, that’s the best part,” Mrs. Ivey supplied, happily turning her attention back to Jill. “Collectively, all of us have lived in Dewberry Beach for what, five decades?” She glanced at Chase for confirmation. “Maybe longer,” she amended. “Feels like longer. Anyway, our roots are deep and our reach is wide. We have connections to do this and to do it quickly. After the land is cleared, we restore the deed. Usually that would require a hearing, but the county clerk was one of my students. She’ll help if I ask. And I will.”
“Then we persuade the township to buy the smaller lot next to the Pellish home. We’ll need that for an art gallery,” Chase continued. “Dewberry Beach doesn’t have one.”
“What about the other lot?” Jill asked.
“I have banking contacts,” Chase said. “We’ll secure a construction loan to build a small cottage and pay it off when it sells. Shouldn’t be a problem at all.”
“It sounds like you’ve thought of everything.” Jill blew out a breath, relieved.
It seemed that Dewberry Beach would survive Marc’s greed after all. The town would get an oceanfront art gallery, where local artists could show their work. And beside it, Jill imagined a cozy, light-filled cottage in place of The Monstrosity with a family and children living inside. Nancy Pellish’s plum tree would flourish in the sunlight and the neighbors’ view of the ocean would be restored.
It really was the best outcome, even if Jill couldn’t be a part of it. It was enough that she’d made things right.
“Good, so if we’re agreed, we should get to work.” Chase gathered the pages and tapped them against the table. “We’ll start by contacting your bank on Monday. I’ll speak to them and arrange things. The architect for the cottage is local and he can meet with us later in the week, if you’re free?”
“Um, sure.” Jill imagined the drive from Ellie’s apartment, where she would be living while she looked for work, to Dewberry Beach. “I need to find a job,” she admitted. “But I’ll look for one with flexible hours so I can come down and meet you whenever I need to.”
“You didn’t tell her!” Mrs. Ivey frowned gently at Chase. “Honestly, Chase.” She smiled at Jill. “The Dewberry Beach Trumpet, our local newspaper, is in need of a staff photographer, and Brenda has recommended you for the job. It’s part-time in the off-season but you can supplement your income with freelance work that we can direct your way, or you can use the extra time to focus on your own photography.”
“But…” Jill glanced at Ellie. The plan was for them to be roommates and she didn’t want to abandon her friend.
“Oh, I’ll be fine, Jilly.” Ellie straightened, proudly. “You’re looking at bestselling author Billy Jacobs’s new personal assistant. Mrs. Ivey reminded Billy that this project will take the better part of a year and he lost his mind. He wants no part of the process, but I do! Can you imagine? Tear the structures down, rebuild, then organize the retreats, start advertising… it’s a huge thing.” Ellie’s eyes glittered with happiness. No one loved a project more than she did. She locked arms with Jill and leaned in to whisper, “We should find an apartment down here, don’t you think?”
“So, what do you say?” Chase smiled. “Are you in?”
“Yes, absolutely,” Jill agreed.
“Then I guess we should get going.” Chase helped Mrs. Ivey with her coat. “If Simon Paulson thinks he’s going to win the cook-off tonight with that nasty sausage roll of his, he’s got another think coming.”
“Chase Bennett!” Mrs. Ivey’s expression dripped with reproach, but even Jill could see that it was fake. Her eyes twinkled with laughter.
“It’s true.” Chase scowled. “That man makes the same thing every year and the wins are starting to go to his head. It’s past time for him to face a real challenger. I’ve had chicken marinating for two days now, and this is the year that man’s knocked off the podium. I can feel it.”
With everything that had happened in the last few days, it took Jill a moment to realize Chase was talking about the festival. Of course they’d want to get back to it.
Jill watched while they gathered their things.
“Aren’t you coming?” Chase asked.
“Really?”
“Really. You girls are officially part of the community now.”
“Um, sure. Let me just get my jacket.” Jill turned to hide her expression. Dewberry Beach felt like home. Aunt Sarah would have been pleased.
“Now be sure to visit the dessert tent and vote for my lemon pound cake,” Mrs. Ivey said as Jill pulled the front door shut behind them. “Chase isn’t the only one facing a challenger. Betty Grable makes a mean apple spice cake—you’ve tasted it, so I need all the votes I can get to win this year.” She squeezed Jill’s hand. “But I might. It feels like a lucky year, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Jill agreed as they headed for the festival. “It really does.”
The four of them walked int
o town, Ellie and Mrs. Ivey up front, Jill and Chase strolling behind. The air was crisp and fresh. Overhead, the canopy of fall leaves made brilliant pops of orange and yellow against the deep blue sky. As they got closer to town, there was the smell of charcoal fires and delicious things grilling. The festival flyers said the cook-off went on all afternoon, and judged categories included everything from appetizers to desserts. Tents and grills had been set up on the lawn near the firehouse for days, and as Jill watched people darting back and forth, adding the finishing touches to their tables, she wondered if any firefighters had entered.
Chase’s cell phone pinged with an incoming call. As he found his phone and answered it, Jill waited with him.
Aunt Sarah would have loved this town. She would have found gardening friends here, and Uncle Barney would have found men to fish with, friends who hadn’t yet heard all his stories.
Best of all, The Monstrosity would be demolished, and all traces of Marc would be gone.
Jill hoped to settle here someday, in an apartment or maybe even a cottage. If she found something affordable, she would fix it up and stay forever. This was the life that fit her—this was what she wanted. And staff photographer for the Dewberry Beach Trumpet was a perfect job. She hoped that lasted too.
Beside her, Chase ended his call. Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he chuckled.
“What’s funny?” Jill asked.
“Not funny, satisfying,” he corrected as they continued on. “When things look especially grim, I am reminded that the wheels of justice may turn slowly but the grind is exceedingly fine.” They paused at a crosswalk to wait for the light. “That was my friend at the justice department. I forwarded him your research and the recording from the restaurant, along with a few thoughts of my own.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. He was calling to thank me. Apparently the recording and the attachments you included were enough to open a federal investigation into Marc’s activities in Mantoloking. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the FBI executed a search warrant tonight. Won’t that be a surprise?” Chase chuckled.
The Girl I Used to Be: A gripping and emotional page-turner Page 23