“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
