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The hushed silence inside contrasted sharply with the noisy crowd outside. Polished marble floors and ornate wooden counters reminded me of an era long past. The building had seen many generations of Blue Harbor residents come and go.
I approached the nearest teller window. A friendly woman in her mid-forties welcomed me with a warm smile. "Good morning. How can I assist you?"
"I'm here to access a safe deposit box," I replied, my nerves buzzing with anticipation.
"Of course, we can help you with that. Do you have your key and identification with you?"
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the small purple velvet bag containing the tiny silver key from Great-Uncle Ian's letter. "I do have both. A family member passed away, and I need to see what's inside as soon as possible."
After comparing my passport photo with my face, the teller nodded. "Looks like all is well, Mr. Gallagher. Let me verify the box number in our records."
While she typed on her computer keyboard, I glanced around the lobby. Only two other customers were present; everyone else was likely celebrating outside with the rest of Blue Harbor.
An older man approached the teller to my right, chatting about the celebration. "It's wonderful to see our little town come together. I'm sure the kids are thrilled. This kind of thing is what makes Blue Harbor special."
The teller nodded in agreement. "Definitely, Mr. Schulze. It shows the true heart of our town."
My teller interrupted my eavesdropping with a slight frown. "Mr. Gallagher, there's a small issue with the safe deposit box."
My breath caught. "Issue? What do you mean?"
Her frown melted into a reassuring smile. "Oh, please don't worry. This happens all the time. The box is listed in Ian Gallagher's name, so we need an authoritative statement from him to open it. Do you have a copy of his will or any other document confirming your rights to the box?"
I sighed in relief. "Of course, I should have thought of that immediately." Reaching into my messenger bag, I pulled out a copy of Great-Uncle Ian's will and the letter from his attorney. "Here you go. This should be all you need."
"Precisely. This is exactly what we need."
Following the teller into an elevator to the vault in the basement, I studied her face. Her expression was warm but professional. I spoke softly. "I'm a bit nervous about what might be in the box. Great-Uncle Ian was an enigma. I'm not sure anyone knew his heart, but he was always ready with secrets and stories to share."
She turned her head slightly. "You're not the first to have such questions, but sometimes we stumble upon the most unexpected treasures in the last place we expected. Whatever you find there, my gut instinct is it will be something of real value."
The box contained only one item—an old, leather-covered journal. As I retrieved it, an earthy musk from the leather combined with a hint of foreign spices and a faint scent of saltwater. My hand shook as I turned to the first page, greeted by Great-Uncle Ian's elegant script. A folded piece of white paper, much newer than the journal, slipped from between the pages and drifted to the floor.
I nearly collided with the teller as we both crouched to retrieve the paper. She chuckled nervously, and I smiled. With the note in my trembling hand, I read another message from Great-Uncle Ian.
My dearest Ronan,
If you are reading this, I have left the mortal coil for my next adventure, and the burden of revealing Blue Harbor's secrets is in your hands. Read the entire journal. It will point you in all of the right directions.
"Is everything okay, Mr. Gallagher?"
I hastily pushed the note into my messenger bag and gently added the journal. "Yes, I think it is, but time will tell. Thank you for your assistance, and I might see you around town. I'm not sure how long I'll be here."
"I do hope you enjoy your stay." The teller returned the box to its proper location, and I followed her back toward the elevator.
"Before I go, could you tell me what the celebration outside is about?"
The teller grinned. "Oh, of course. You certainly aren't from around here if you didn't know. Our wonderful kids won the state high school baseball tournament, and we're throwing a parade in their honor." She lowered her voice slightly. "My nephew, Andy, is a shortstop on the team."
"Congratulations. I was never much of an athlete, but I've got a soft spot for baseball.
"Well, I'm Maggie Brooks. Let me be among the first to welcome you to Blue Harbor officially."
As I stepped out of the bank with the journal safely tucked away in my messenger bag, the lively celebration swept me into its orbit. I inhaled the scents of popcorn and cotton candy, along with the drum cadence of a marching band turning the corner.
Looking both ways from the curb, I was eager to return to the parking lot, but the marching band was too close. I restlessly shifted my weight back and forth and watched as the crisp uniforms and gleaming instruments streamed past me. The delay caused a momentary flicker of frustration. What I wanted most was to get to my hotel room and read through Great-Uncle Ian's journal. The secrets contained inside were calling out to me.
As the band members marched by, I forgot my irritation and listened to the soaring sound of the horns. It was easy to surrender to the energy. The crowd around me cheered and clapped, and soon I joined in.
