The Girl I Used to Be: A gripping and emotional page-turner Heidi Hostetter (best ereader under 100 .txt) 📖

Chase nodded. “Marc told everyone that his new company was flush with cash and what better use for it than rebuilding an iconic New Jersey shore town?” He twisted in his chair, his movements jerky and edged with anger. “I should have known then, should have stopped him.”

“I won’t hear it.” Mrs. Ivey reached for his arm and squeezed. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. Dianne believed him—we all did. Everyone was taken in.” She glanced at Jill. “Before we knew what was happening, two of this town’s oldest residents sold their property to him for a fraction of what it was worth.”

“Sell? Why would they sell?” Jill asked. “He was a contractor. If he wanted to help, why didn’t he offer to rebuild their homes?”

“Because there wasn’t anything to rebuild. Nothing on either of those lots except splintered wood,” Mrs. Ivey explained. “Everything—a family’s entire life—had been sucked into the sea in the receding tide.”

“I don’t understand,” Jill said.

Chase leaned forward. “He took advantage of them, don’t you see? When Marc went to see them, he leaned heavily on Dianne’s reputation as a lifelong resident. They believed his offer was fair, and when he promised to build a cottage on their property, they believed that too. Even if they couldn’t live in it themselves, they wanted that for Dewberry Beach.”

“But he lied,” Jill breathed, suddenly understanding how Marc could afford not one but two oceanfront properties in one of New Jersey’s most affluent shore towns.

“He lied.” Chase’s voice was a sigh.

“Marva was my best friend. Kaye’s too,” Mrs. Ivey added. “I’ve known her for fifty years and I’ll never forget the look on her face when she was told her life had been dragged back to the sea. Everything she owned, all her memories were gone—her grandmother’s clock, her wedding china, all her photographs. Even her grandchildren’s plastic beach toys from the shed in the backyard. The hurricane stripped everything from her, and it was heartbreaking. But what that man did to her was far worse because he did it on purpose.”

“I’m sorry but I still don’t understand. For Marc to build anything on that land, it would have to be permitted. And it was,” Jill said as she ran her fingers through her hair. “He filed blueprints. Surely anyone who looked could see that he was lying to them.”

“Remember that Dianne’s father, Peter Muscadine, was the planning commissioner?” Chase said. “In a town as small as Dewberry, Peter wasn’t just on the planning commission, he was the planning commission. As you’ve guessed, he approved the permits without seeing them.”

“He was part of this?”

“No, no. Absolutely not.” Mrs. Ivey shook her head firmly. “Peter Muscadine was one of the best men I’ve ever known. He didn’t have it in him to lie, and he loved this town. He was a simple man, truth be told. He would give you the shirt off his back if he thought it would help you, and that’s where Marc saw his opening.”

“You have to understand that in Dewberry, we take people at their word, trust what they say. It’s a bit old-fashioned, I agree, but it’s one of the things that makes this place great. So when Marc lied, all Peter saw was his daughter’s husband, giving his word.”

Jill sagged against the back of her chair. Peter Muscadine’s trust would have been just the opportunity Marc needed.

Chase rose to snap on a little space heater by the door. “But Peter was just the first step. In normal times, Marc’s deception would have been noticed. But these weren’t normal times.” The space heater whirred to life. “The bureaucracy that followed the hurricane was almost as bad as the storm. Insurance adjusters came to town, noted the damage, and refused to pay. Policies meant to protect from flood damage suddenly didn’t apply, even with six feet of water lapping at the foundation. And the effort just to clear the roads, restore power and water was staggering. It was easy to hide in the shadows of that, and he did.”

Jill felt a lump twist in her stomach. This was exactly the type of “advantage” Marc lived for.

“After he filed the plans, Marc amended them. And Peter approved the changes without reviewing the paperwork.”

“Peter had other things on his mind,” Mrs. Ivey added. “We all did.”

Even as Chase nodded, Jill could tell that he’d always blame himself for what Marc did. For not seeing it.

Chase fell silent and Mrs. Ivey continued. “Even after we suspected what Marc was planning, there was little we could do to stop him. We tried talking to him, but it was useless. He is a greedy man,” Mrs. Ivey sighed. “In the end, Peter accepted the blame for everything because that’s the kind of man he was. He was summoned in front of the town council for a formal investigation—it was humiliating. He resigned that very afternoon. Within a week he’d sold his house and left the town he’d lived in all his life. A town he loved with all his heart.”

“I had no idea.” Jill closed her eyes. Suddenly, an idea took shape. Did Marc approach you or anyone else in town?”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Mrs. Ivey answered for Chase. “Why do you ask?”

“Because he never builds just one house. That’s not how he works. He builds developments and puts a model home on site to show buyers. He didn’t do that here,” Jill explained. It was one piece that didn’t quite fit.

As soon as she gave voice to it, Jill regretted her question. The story had gone beyond what she intended and seemed to be taking a toll on both of them. And her question was callous.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking out loud. Please continue.”

“There’s not much more to tell,” Chase replied, though his expression had shifted. He seemed wary now. “Marc filed papers to have the state clear debris from the waterfront lots he bought—for free, I might add.