Page 7 of A Summer Mismatch
Grandma Winnie had hinted—with an underlined self-help book on building healthy relationships—that Julia was dimming her light so that Timothy could shine.
Julia didn’t think it was as bad as all that. Timothy was a successful doctor at The Palms. Of course he needed to focus on his career. And not everyone cared to hear about second-graders antics and children’s storybook ideas. That didn’t make them a bad person or partner.
Julia was comfortable with Timothy, something that didn’t always come easy to her. Sure, they could go weeks, and sometimes months, without seeing each other. And her heart didn’t skip or flip or even attempt a half-hearted wave when she saw him, but was that so bad? Julia wasn’t convinced all those heart-gymnastics happened outside of an Allegra Winters romance novel, anyway.
He’s oatmeal, and you need salsa, Grandma Winnie had informed her at their last Sunday dinner.
But oatmeal is healthy,Julia had responded.
So is salsa.Grandma Winnie’s eyebrows had waggled.Just with extra spice.
Julia shook the memory away and considered what to text Timothy. Yes, they were comfortable together, but she didn’t like never knowing where their relationship stood. He’d already missed the celebration dinner for the release of her children’s book last month because of a networking event he didn’t want to miss.
Julia:We had plans this summer.
Timothy:I know. I’m sorry. I’m going to be booked from morning to night, and need to focus. Reschedule for fall?
She wrote and deleted several replies:
I don’t want to take a break.
I’d like a say in this relationship.
You said we’d reschedule celebrating my launch, but that never happened.
All the self-help books in the world couldn’t get her to say those things to Timothy—especially since she realized she was a little relieved they were taking a break from dating. One less drain on her already tight summer schedule.
Julia: Okay. Good luck.
She placed her phone in her purse, under Cameron’s bag of meds, as if that would hide this entire situation from her, and stood to read the plaques to get her mind off of all things Timothy—and Grandma Winnie—related.
These elephants were all female and were named June, Adia, and Lulu. June was the matriarch, and Adia and Lulu were her daughters. Lulu, meaning pearl, was the adorable calf, and only eight months old. She read about declining elephant birthrates and the details of the center’s efforts to help with elephant infertility through better nutrition, exercise, and expert care.
She’d always been fascinated by elephants, and an idea for a new children’s book starring Lulu started to percolate. She needed to turn a draft into her agent by July, and usually she had at least a working outline by now, but she’d been so excited about writing her for-fun project—a murder mystery with a side of romance—that she hadn’t spent the time she needed on her actual contracted book.
Well, now that she and Timothy were taking a break, she’d have so much extra time for working. Timothy had always been mildly patronizing about her children’s books. They didn’t make her a ton of money, and he only read well-researched nonfiction—most definitely not books about talking animals. Or a series of murders solved by retirees, if he’d even known she was writing mysteries. But she’d never told him.
Or anyone.
Except that unforgettable man at the gas station last week—accidentally, and in a moment of panic. Luckily, she’d never see him again, so her secret was safe.
CHAPTER FOUR
Logan
Loganleanedontherailing and observed Raza, a thirty-year-old bull elephant from Africa who had injured his leg and been relocated to the Southern Florida Wildlife Conservation Center for long-term care.
The observation time had a dual purpose: it gave him a chance to watch Raza to see what additional care he might need, and it allowed him some space to process the phone call he’d received that morning.
Matis, an elephant Logan had worked with at the animal refuge in Kenya, had died of natural causes. He knew it was a part of the cycle of life, and he was unlikely to have ever seen the sixty-one-year-old elephant again anyway, but it brought Logan straight back to the moment he’d heard of his mother’s death.
His emotions were already low from the family dinner a couple of weeks before. Things with his family were worse off than he thought. His sister’s marriage was visibly strained, his niece and nephew clingy and emotional in a way they’d never been, his absent father on his hundredth girlfriend since last year—Logan had long-since stopped trying to remember their names—and though Logan wanted to believeheat least had it together, this morning’s call—and the emotion lodged deeply in his throat—dashed all illusions of that.
But his grandparents arrived at The Palms today, and he still held out hope they’d help him buttress the collapsing structure his family had become.
“Cameron’s here.”
Logan turned to see his good friend, Kai McKendrick, lean on the railing beside Logan. They’d worked together since Kenya, and after Kai moved to Florida three years before, he’d put in a good word for Logan at the conservation center.
