Page 65 of Breaking Through

Parker explained. "The Marina Ladies' Book Club got involved. Sarah put together a PowerPoint presentation about appropriate celebration pastry aesthetics. Spreadsheets may have been involved."

"Mrs. Peterson made charts," Cole chipped in.

I laughed. It was my town, and they were my people—turning every moment into a celebration, and finding joy in the smallest details, making even nervous rangers smile despite themselves.

The mood shifted when Tom suddenly called out: "Speech! From both of them!"

Wade's eyes widened in panic. Before I had a chance to save him from public speaking, my father cleared his throat...

Silence fell over the room. Dad opened Gran's portfolio, and his corporate polish faded into a voice rough with emotion.

"We found these last night." He carefully removed several sheets of heavy paper from his case. "They are letters from galleries in New York and Chicago, offering Isabella shows, connections, chances to 'make it big' as they said back then."

He laid them on a table near Rafe's sugary masterpiece. "But here's what matters, I thought you all needed to know how she responded. She told them yes sometimes, no others, but always on her terms. She wrote about needing both worlds—the wider recognition and the quiet place where her art began."

Mom stepped forward and took his hand. "We've spent months trying to understand your choices, Holden. Trying to fit your path into our definition of success. We should have been looking at Belle's example all along."

A phone rang, interrupting the moment. Parker grabbed it, his eyes widening as he checked the display. "It's Portland. The Hawthorne Gallery."

All in the room held their collective breath.

I looked around at the faces surrounding me. I saw Wade's quiet strength, my parents' newfound understanding, Mike's subtle nod, and Sarah's encouraging smile.

My answer was as clear to me as spring water.

I took the phone. "This is Holden Harlow. Yes, I'm interested in showing at Hawthorne—with conditions. I want to split my time, maintaining my base here while bringing Blue Harbor's story to a wider audience..."

The rest of the conversation blurred, but I remember the gallery director's response: "Like Isabella Harlow years ago? We've been hoping you'd say that."

With the phone call complete, Sarah unleashed what she'd been holding back. "Now we canreallycelebrate!" She clapped her hands, and Rafe disappeared into the kitchen, emerging with servers bearing tiered platters of culinary artistry.

"Each pastry tells a story." He explained the creations as he positioned a tray of delicate sugar and cream puffs. "These reflect Holden's early beach photos—sea salt caramel inside, with crystallized sugar that dissolves like fog on your tongue."

Parker studied one with professional interest. "The layering effect is remarkable. He captured the magic of Holden's shots of sunrise over the lake."

"Try the chocolate ones." Sarah offered a plate of what appeared to be miniature trails carved in dark chocolate and gold. Rafe designed them based on the therapy program's hiking routes. The filling changes as you eat it—it starts bitter but ends sweet."

Mike accepted one carefully. "Like the program itself. It's rough at first on the way to something good."

The Bean hummed with conversation and laughter. Maya cornered my mother by the park model, enthusiastically explaining how the therapy program had expanded to include environmental education components. Mom took notes, her corporate efficiency softened by genuine interest.

Nearby, Tom regaled my father with increasingly elaborate tales of park mishaps. "So there was this squirrel gang, you see, and they developed a taste for premium trail mix..."

"The incidents are documented," Wade added a touch of professionalism, though his lips twitched. "Multiple witness statements."

"Witness statements?" Dad appeared bewildered.

"Oh, the paperwork is impressive." Tom cheerfully added an important detail. "Wade filed it under 'W' for 'Why do squirrels need a criminal organization?'"

Cole appeared with a fresh pot of coffee just as Grandpa started sharing stories about Gran's first gallery showing. "She was so nervous she accidentally hung three paintings upside down. Didn't realize it until halfway through opening night."

"That's not in the official records," I protested.

"Of course not." Grandpa's eyes twinkled. "She made me promise to only tell the story once she'd become successful enough that people would find it charming instead of concerning."

A burst of laughter drew my attention to where Sarah was showing my parents her collection of newspaper clippings about the therapy program. The latest headline read: "Art & Nature: Innovative Program Helps Veterans Heal."

"We're expanding the visitor center display space," Maya explained. "The response has been overwhelming. Other parks are asking about implementing similar programs."

---