Page 41 of A Novel Summer
A sea turtle was stranded. It was a large one—about two feet long and probably a hundred pounds. It had a triangular-shaped head and a hooked beak that made it look somewhat angry. The top of the shell was grayish-green. She knew, from her summer with Justin, that it shouldn’t be on the beach like that. Sea turtles spent most of their time underwater, surfacing only to breathe. They crawled ashore at night just to lay their eggs. Once, Justin took her to see the hatchlings. She watched the tiny baby turtles race to the water on pure instinct. Justin told her they wouldn’t return to land until it was time for them to lay eggs of their own.
“Look at that,” she said, her voice hushed.
He turned, following her gaze. “What is it?”
“A sea turtle. It shouldn’t be on land like this.” She dropped Anders’s hand to reach for her phone. She needed to report the stranded animal.
There was only one person she knew to call.
Justin invited his family out for Tuesday-night dinner instead of going over to the house. He figured it was a more diplomatic way to include Kate instead of imposing on his mother to cook for one more person.
His parents and sister were already seated at an outdoor table when he arrived. His mother didn’t get up to kiss him hello, which was out of character. He wondered what was bothering her, and figured it was just the restaurant being short-staffed. At least, he hoped that was what had her on edge, and not the dinner with Kate. But no, he was being sensitive.
“Mia, take off your headphones, please,” Carmen said.
Kate turned to his sister. “That was such a lovely book event the other night.” Mia thanked her, but she seemed as lackluster as his mother. What was with everyone?
“Mia, have you been to Kate’s store yet?” Bert asked, turning to give Kate an encouraging smile.
“Uh, no. Because—and no offense, Kate—it’s the competition.”
Justin and his father exchanged a look.
“So,” Bert said, changing topics, “are we all set for the Fourth of July?”
Justin pressed his fingers to his forehead. He’d rather spend another hour talking about the bookstore issue than get into Fourth of July.
“Yes! Let’s discuss,” Carmen said, looking more animated. The Fourth of July was his parents’ wedding anniversary and every year they had a party. She turned to Justin. “How many of your friends do you think are coming this year? I need to start getting a headcount.”
“Actually,” Kate said, placing her hand on his forearm. “Justin and I decided to spend the Fourth in Boston.”
Carmen closed her menu.
“What?”
A server stopped by the table.
“We just need another minute—thanks,” Justin said to him.
This wasn’t just news to his mother—it was news to him. Technically, “they” hadn’t decided. She’d suggested it, and he’d said something along the lines of “We’ll figure it out.”
Carmen looked at Kate as if she’d just announced they were jumping on SpaceX to the moon. Then, to Justin: “You’re missing the Fourth?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Lombardo,” Kate said, immediately recognizing the tension. She glanced between Justin and his mother. “It was all my idea. I just thought since we’re here basically all summer, it would be a good time to slip away for a bit.”
Carmen took a stab at her salad. Justin picked up his own fork, trying to think of what he could say to get dinner back on track. He was at a loss.
He didn’t know if Kate had genuine disregard for his opinion about the Fourth, or if there’d been a miscommunication between them. One thing he did know: if he’d officially agreed to go to Boston, he would have made sure he’d been the one to tell his mother. And not in the middle of dinner. It was a sensitive situation. He didn’t want his mother to think he’d made the decision to miss it lightly.
His phone rang. He reflexively began to send it to voicemail. Then he saw the incoming number: Shelby.
“Excuse me for a minute,” he said and pushed his chair from the table. He walked towards the host stand close to the street. “Hello?”
“Sorry to bother you,” Shelby said. “But there’s a turtle stranded here on Herring Cove.”
He asked her to describe it to him. It sounded like a Kemp’s ridley, one of the most endandered species of sea turtle.
“I’ll be right there.”
