The Girl I Used to Be by Heidi Hostetter (that summer book .txt) 📕

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