“The FBI? Why would they be involved?”
“The program Marc defrauded receives federal funding.” The light changed and they crossed the street. When they reached the other side, Chase stopped to give Jill his full attention. “Defrauding it is a federal offense. But that’s not the best part. Because it was your tip that started the investigation, you are what’s known as a ‘whistleblower.’”
“I don’t understand what that means.”
“We shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves, but the amount Marc stole was significant. When the case against him is settled, you will receive a percentage. You may be coming into quite a bit of money.”
“Enough to pay for a house? Maybe a small one?” Jill held her breath.
“I believe so, yes. With a bit left over.”
“I want to buy the cottage,” Jill blurted. “The one next to the art gallery, on the smaller lot.”
“I thought you might.” Chase smiled. “Remember that a reward is just a possibility, but we’ll look at the numbers and see where we stand. In the meantime, we’ll find you and Ellie an apartment and get you settled into Dewberry Beach if that’s where you want to stay.”
“I do,” Jill said. “I absolutely do.”
Epilogue
A rainy day at the shore can be a gift, especially in the off-season.
The pace of the day slows, offering a morning spent lingering over coffee and an afternoon watching old movies, still in pajamas. It was one of the best things about rainy days at the beach: a whole day lazing about, doing nothing in particular.
But today, Jillian DiFiore didn’t have the time to be lazy.
She yawned and stretched under the blankets, surprised at how well she’d slept. From her bed she could see through the lace-curtained window out to the ocean. A veil of fog obscured the horizon, but it was early yet, and Jill was optimistic. The weather people had promised a perfect fall day and it felt like she’d get one. A train whistled in the distance, and the excitement of the day propelled her forward, so Jill pushed back the covers, grabbed her bathrobe from the peg, and ventured to the kitchen to find coffee.
“I knew you’d be up early.” Ellie pulled a mug from the cabinet and filled it with fresh coffee. Then added a generous pour of cream and handed it to Jill.
“Thanks.”
Jill and Ellie had been roommates for the better part of a year. At first, they’d found a garage apartment and stayed there, but once the work was completed, it had just seemed natural that they’d move into this newly built cottage.
Over the last year, The Monstrosity, Marc’s monument to himself, had been demolished. In its place was this tiny cottage that Jill had designed herself. Three airy bedrooms instead of nine, a bright kitchen with a tiny center island made from refinished driftwood and lace bistro curtains to frame every window. Outside was a little wooden deck that faced the sea. Made from reclaimed wood, it overlooked the seagrass on the dunes and the ocean waves beyond, and it had become a favorite gathering place, no matter the weather: everyone’s favorite place to sit.
Before demolition started, Billy Jacob had bought the contents of The Monstrosity—all of it—and Ellie had arranged for it to be stored. Jill was glad to be rid of it. She wanted a fresh start and that included furniture from flea markets and yard sales. She refinished everything herself, and the end result was a cottage filled with an eclectic mix of textures and colors, beach finds and craft-fair treasures. It was a gathering place for friends and exactly what she’d dreamed of.
Jill made her way to the deck and settled into a chair beside Ellie, glancing toward the horizon to watch the surfer weave a path on his green board across a rolling wave.
“That guy’s become really good,” Jill remarked.
“It’s a woman,” Ellie corrected. “She works in the cheese shop on the weekend. I’m kind of seeing her.”
“El!” Jill exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s early yet,” Ellie said, but her smile was wide. “Nothing to tell.”
They watched the ocean for a while, content.
“Marc’s attorney called again. Third time this week.” Ellie broke the silence, then arched her eyebrow in query. “You’re not gonna call him back, are you?”
Jill snorted. “Nope. Not in a million years. But think about it: how desperate can they be if they want me to be a character witness?”
Ellie laughed, then raised her coffee mug in a toast. “I can’t imagine.”
Chase had forwarded Jill news of the indictments filed against her ex-husband. Marc had been charged with so many counts of state and federal fraud that he’d been forced to sell the Berkshire land just to pay the attorney fees. Rumor was that Brittney had left him and he was now living in one of Cush’s guest rooms.
It turned out that the most damning piece of evidence was Marc’s admission of past fraud and his intent to repeat it, on the video Ellie had recorded at the restaurant that day. When the recording was admitted as evidence, Marc’s attorney had protested, insisting his client hadn’t known he was being recorded, that he was just showing off. But New Jersey was a one-party consent state, so the recording was admitted. Now, with the trial just a few months away, Marc’s attorneys were scrambling to find anyone who had something nice to say about their client.
They seemed to be having a very hard time. Even Cush was silent.
“Hello, anyone home?” The side gate opened, and Brenda poked her head inside. “Is it too early for visitors?”
“You know you’re welcome anytime.” Jill gestured for Brenda to join them. “Coffee’s fresh and so are the cider donuts. Would you like some?”
“Absolutely.” Brenda entered the yard carrying a cardboard box, fresh from the printer.
Ellie
