Page 2 of Breaking Through

What I remember most was the scent of the place. It was a mixture of fresh paint and coffee. Seeing no one before me, I called out, "Hello?"

"Up here. Hey, Holden." Following the voice, I spotted a loft space in the rear of the building. It had a staircase leading up perhaps fifteen feet away. "Join me. I've got coffee."

The steps creaked, but when I reached the top, I laid my eyes on Parker's smiling face for the first time in real life. He had a tousled mop of sandy brown hair and hazel eyes with small flecks of gold.

Behind him was a scene of barely controlled chaos. A desk held stacks of papers, and a bulletin above was nearly covered in sticky notes. Three laptops were open, displaying various web browser screens.

"It's Holden Harlow in the flesh!" Parker reached out to shake my hand. His voice was enthusiastic, and his touch was warm and friendly. "Ready to make some digital magic?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." I did my best to hide my nervousness, squeezing my fists tight to hang onto a shred of calm.

I followed Parker to a second desk beneath a small window that overlooked the Blue Harbor Marina. He gestured in a sweeping motion. "This is your creative corner."

In contrast with Parker's space, my desk held only a brand new laptop and a steaming mug of coffee. It had no sugar and just a light kiss of cream—the way I liked it. "How'd you—"

"I may have called Grandpa Harlow to ask about you and coffee." Parker grinned. "It's important to me to get things rolling in a positive direction, and I've got deep connections with your grandfather."

I raised an eyebrow. "How so? I know he's lived most of his life in Blue Harbor, but—"

Parker interrupted my comment. "When you're the high school principal, everybody in town knows something about you. My dad was a student under him, and the memories are all good."

"Wow." I knew about my grandfather's career, but he retired when I was still a child. "I never expected a real connection."

"Oh, yeah. I can't count the number of times Dad has credited Mr. Harlow with being the primary reason he completed high school. He was great for seeing potential in even the most, um, 'creatively inclined' students."

I chuckled softly. It wasn't hard to think of Grandpa that way. He was an eternal optimist and gave everyone the benefit of the doubt when first meeting them.

"You'll find most Blue Harbor residents have long memories. They're a little like elephants that way." Parker's voice was suddenly more serious in tone. "People here remember acts of kindness and those who reached out at troubled times. Your grandfather impacted many many lives. Now, you can follow in his footsteps."

In a different context, the words would have felt weighty, laying a suffocating responsibility on my shoulders. Instead, I thought about it as seeing those first footsteps in the snow, the ones you can follow to get through a deep drift and carry on with your day.

Still, I had to joke about it. "No pressure, right?"

"No pressure at all. All I'm asking is for you to be the best you that you can be. I'm sure that will be perfect forTales of Blue Harbor."

We spent the rest of that first morning huddled together, going over the blog's current social media. It wasn't a lot, but fans were clearly eager to connect in new ways.

Parker was powerfully passionate about Blue Harbor. "It's not merely a little town, a dot on the state map of Wisconsin. It's something living, breathing, and growing more fascinating every day. Everything has a story—the creaky floorboards at the Grand Hotel, the waves rolling in off Lake Michigan, and the secrets shared over lunch at Joe's Diner—and we're here to tell them."

"So where do we start?"

He tossed a Polaroid Now camera to me. It was the same one I carried to the beach to see Poseidon rising from the lake.

"It's pretty simple. I want to start by seeing Blue Harbor through a fresh pair of eyes—yours. Get out there and snap some great shots, at least one new one every day. I know there's beauty out there that most of us ignore, but I think you can find it."

I held the camera up to my eye and looked through the viewfinder. "I don't think I've seen one of these since I was a little kid."

"Then it's perfect." Parker folded his arms over his chest. "It's true that sometimes we have to take a step back to move forward. I think you'll fit in perfectly. With your grandpa, you've got Blue Harbor in your blood."

It was as simple as that. I found myself with not only a job but also a daily mission. Parker gave me a sense of purpose that had been rare in my life. He'd instantly connected me to my new hometown through both personal legacy and a daily goal.

When I pulled my thoughts back to the present, I was approaching my favorite coffee shop in town, the Little BlueBean. Parker had been right. I fit in with the locals, and Blue Harbor had already become more than just a place with a job. It was home.

As soon as I opened the door, the rich coffee aroma hit me square in the face. The morning mist was gone, replaced with a vision of delectable pastries lined up in a case, beckoning me forward.

"Well, well, look who stumbled in." Sarah, the owner and top-notch barista, smiled at me from behind the counter. "It's our resident Polaroid photo bug. You're running a little late. Did the sunrise keep you?"

I sighed. "You have no idea."

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