Chapter 2 — First Impressions

Ryan

The earthy aroma of damp soil and greenery hung in the air as Ryan Carter trailed behind Victor Moreno, the Zoo Director, along the winding paths of the Evergreen Zoo. Victor’s long strides and no-nonsense demeanor made Ryan feel like a student being marched to detention. The crunch of Victor’s boots on the gravel path created a steady rhythm against the distant chatter of children near the aviary and the occasional caw of a bird overhead.

“This used to be one of our biggest draws,” Victor said, stopping abruptly to gesture toward the Primate Rainforest Enclosure. The gleaming glass dome caught the autumn sunlight, but as they drew closer, Ryan noticed the cracks in its sealant and the water stains streaking its panes. Inside, gibbons swung lazily from vines while a pair of lemurs chittered near the observation platform. A faint earthy smell, like damp wood, wafted out when the wind shifted.

Ryan adjusted the strap of his laptop bag and tilted his head, taking in the structure. “It’s... atmospheric,” he offered, his tone light, though his marketing-trained eyes couldn’t help but pick out the faded educational placards, the frayed ropes inside the habitat, and the overall need for a refresh.

Victor turned, fixing Ryan with a pointed stare. “Atmospheric doesn’t keep the lights on, Mr. Carter.”

Ryan met Victor’s gaze with a quick, practiced smile. “Fair point. But look at it this way—something like this has storytelling potential. A time-lapse of those lemurs at play, maybe even a behind-the-scenes keeper feature. We could remind people why they loved this place in the first place.”

Victor’s expression didn’t soften, though he gave a small grunt of acknowledgment as he moved forward. “It’s not about reminding them. It’s about getting them to show up.”

Ryan followed, noting the subtle tension in the zoo’s atmosphere—the way the peeling paint on railings and uneven walkways hinted at its struggles, even as the animals and habitats told a story of resilience. He caught sight of a family near the aviary, a young girl pressing her hands against the glass to watch a cockatoo fluff its feathers. The sight made him pause for just a moment before hurrying to catch up.

As they turned a corner, the path opened into the central plaza. Ryan’s eyes swept over the scene: the weathered stone archway of the entrance, the gurgling fountain at the plaza’s center, and visitors scattered on benches under sparse shade. The faint scent of popcorn mingled with the crisp tang of fallen leaves. It wasn’t perfect, but there was charm here—a kind of nostalgia clinging to the edges of its wear and tear.

Victor slowed his pace and gestured toward the fountain. “Dr. Hart should be around here.”

Ryan followed Victor’s gaze and spotted her.

Ellie Hart stood near the fountain with her arms crossed, her khaki cargo pants and green field jacket blending into the zoo’s earthy palette. Her auburn hair, tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail, caught the sunlight, but it was her sharp green eyes that held his attention. They locked onto him with an intensity he could only describe as unimpressed.

Ryan leaned slightly toward Victor and murmured under his breath, “Is that Ellie?”

Victor glanced at him, his tone clipped. “Dr. Hart.”

Ryan raised his hands in mock surrender. “Dr. Hart. Got it.”

As they approached, Ellie’s posture straightened, her gaze flicking briefly to Ryan’s blazer, designer jeans, and polished shoes. Victor stepped forward to introduce them. “Ryan Carter, our new marketing consultant. This is Dr. Eleanor Hart, our head zoologist.”

Ryan extended a hand, flashing his signature easy smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hart. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Ellie didn’t immediately take his hand. Instead, she studied him with the kind of scrutiny one might reserve for an unfamiliar species. Finally, she gave his hand a firm shake, releasing it almost immediately. “Mr. Carter,” she said, her tone polite but cool.

“Ryan, please,” he corrected, chuckling lightly.

Ellie didn’t smile. “I assume Victor has given you the tour?”

Ryan shrugged. “A quick one. But I’d love to hear your perspective. You’re the expert, after all.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “My perspective is that the zoo’s issues can’t be solved with flashy campaigns or influencer partnerships.”

Ryan blinked, momentarily thrown by her bluntness. “Well, I guess that’s one way to cut to the chase,” he said, his tone still light. “But I think there’s room for both education and engagement. People need to feel connected to the animals if we want them to care.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed slightly, though her expression remained composed. “And what exactly do you know about connection, Mr. Carter?”

Victor cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Ellie, why don’t you take Ryan to see the Butterfly Garden? I need to check on the staff meeting in the education center.”

Ellie opened her mouth to protest, but Victor’s steady gaze left no room for argument. With a resigned exhale, she nodded. “Fine. Follow me, Mr. Carter.”

Ryan hesitated, glancing at Victor, who gave him a curt nod of encouragement before striding off. “Well,” Ryan muttered under his breath as he adjusted his bag. “This should be fun.”

Ellie didn’t wait for him, setting off down the path with her boots crunching against the gravel. Ryan quickened his pace to keep up, his gaze flicking between the enclosures they passed and the determined set of Ellie’s shoulders. He caught sight of a small notebook—the edge of its leather cover peeking out of her jacket pocket—but she didn’t seem inclined to share whatever was in it.

The Butterfly Garden was tucked away near the edge of the zoo, its entrance marked by an archway entwined with flowering vines. Inside, the air was warmer, almost humid, and alive with the soft hum of fluttering wings. Butterflies of every color flitted among vibrant blossoms, their delicate forms catching the light like living jewels. The gentle buzz of bees added to the garden’s soothing ambiance.

Ryan paused just inside the entrance, taking it all in. “Wow,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. For the first time since arriving at the zoo, he felt the stirrings of something beyond professional curiosity—a genuine appreciation for the space around him.

Ellie glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. “It’s one of the few exhibits we’ve managed to maintain properly,” she said. Her tone was clipped, but Ryan caught the faintest thread of pride beneath it.

He stepped closer to a cluster of monarchs resting on a bright yellow flower, pulling his phone from his pocket. “You know,” he began, “this would make a great backdrop for a campaign. Maybe something about transformation, second chances—”

Ellie turned sharply, cutting him off. “This isn’t a photo op, Mr. Carter. These butterflies are part of a carefully managed ecosystem. They’re not props for your marketing experiments.”

Ryan lowered his phone, caught off guard by the intensity in her voice. “I wasn’t trying to trivialize your work,” he said, his tone softer now. “I just thought—”

“That’s the problem,” Ellie interrupted. “You think in terms of optics and impressions, not what’s best for the animals.”

Ryan hesitated, her words striking closer to home than he cared to admit. She wasn’t wrong—his world revolved around selling ideas, not managing ecosystems. Still, the way she dismissed him stung.

“I get it,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “You think I’m just some suit here to slap a bandaid on a sinking ship. But I’m here to help, Dr. Hart. Whether you believe that or not.”

For a moment, something flickered in Ellie’s expression—surprise, or maybe curiosity—but it was gone before he could be sure. She turned away, her gaze settling on a butterfly perched delicately on a nearby leaf. Her fingers brushed a flower stem absently, her movements momentarily softening.

“This zoo doesn’t need saving with cheap tricks,” she said quietly. “It needs people who care enough to fight for it.”

Her words hung in the air, heavier than Ryan expected. He wanted to ask what had made her so guarded, so certain he was the enemy—but he knew better than to push. Instead, he offered a small, genuine smile.

“Then it sounds like we’re on the same team,” he said. “Even if we don’t always play the same way.”

Ellie didn’t respond, but she didn’t walk away either. For now, Ryan decided, that was enough.