"I know why you're here."
It was the next afternoon. Julie and I were side by side, rolling paint on the deck at the restaurant. When I didn't answer, she looked up and scratched her nose with the back of her wrist.
"You've come to help us."
I dipped my roller in the tray, and tied to scrape the excess paint off the outer edges.
"To help you?"
"Yes," she said. "It's just too much of a coincidence. Alfred quits, the institute rejects me, Mom's deal with Mr. Hogan falls through-and then you suddenly show up." "Your mother had a deal with William?"
"Yeah. She was going to let him ruin our beach with this ugly pipe thing. You show up, and, surprise, you can cook, and business gets better…"
"Do you still see William's nephew?"
"Tim? Yeah. You're just like that angel guy on TV."
"Do you think he'd talk to me without telling his uncle?"
"He might. Probably."
"Would you ask him?"
"Sure. The thing is, I've figured it out. You're one of those dolphin guys."
I knew I shouldn't have told that story.
"I already told you," I said, "we all are."
"I mean the ones that can still change back and forth."
I couldn't answer that.