The Call That Changed Everything

A Ring Against the Tide

It was one of those Maine summer afternoons when the humidity makes the air heavy, like wrapping yourself in a warm quilt straight off the line. I’d been sitting on the porch of my family’s salt-weathered house, watching a schooner drift lazily across the harbor, when my phone buzzed. Not the polite nudge of a text, but a full-on vibration meltdown that sent it skittering across the wicker table.

The number? Unfamiliar. My instinct, as anyone who has ever received a call about an extended car warranty knows, was to ignore it. But something made me pause. Blame it on intuition, or the fact that I hadn’t had a compelling distraction since finishing the last chapter of Rebecca the night before. I answered, and in doing so, unknowingly cracked open an entirely new chapter of my life.

Love, Interrupted

“Hi, Charlotte? This is Mary from Barnacle Press.”

Now, let me set the scene here: at the time, I was single, writing sporadic pieces about B&Bs for Maine’s endless parade of travel guides, and still nursing a bruised ego from a recent breakup. Not the ugly “redo your locks” kind, but the sad, wistful flavor where you part ways over an over-explained brunch and spend the next six months asking mutual friends not to bring their name into casual conversation.

I’d been caught, in every sense of the phrase, in a holding pattern. The call from Mary would be the jolt I didn’t know I needed.

“I loved your essay on sailors’ knots,” Mary continued, making my heart all but leap into my throat. “We’d like you to expand that into a book—something lyrical, historical, but accessible. Are you interested?”

Was I interested? Let’s put it this way: If you’d offered me boardwalk fried dough and the promise of no more solo wedding RSVPs, I couldn’t have been more emphatic in my yes.

But here’s the kicker: That phone call didn’t just change my career. At the time, I couldn’t have guessed it’d be the start of something even bigger—a timeline that’s less “professional milestone” and more “Hallmark movie subplot.”

Writing the Next Chapter

Fast forward six months. I was waist-deep in research, pouring over old ship registries and pulling late nights in Maine’s most charming—read, freezing—libraries, and feeling, for the first time in a long while, that electric sense of purpose. Writing about New England’s maritime history wasn’t just a niche—it was a calling. (Although, yes, I still cringe conceding I used "sail-abrate good times" as an actual chapter title.)

I decided to visit Phippsburg on a whim, the site of an old colonial shipyard I was profiling. It was there, in the shadow of a weathered lighthouse, that I met Owen.

Robustly arguing with the clerk at a bait-and-tackle shop, Owen was a local fisherman who, depending on the angle of the sun, either looked like a grizzly sea-loving hermit or a young Sam Elliott. He overheard me bemoaning my singular understanding of lobster traps and offered to give me a tour of his rig.

And just like that, my “harrowing romance with my keyboard” turned into an actual romance, no air quotes necessary. I still maintain that his defense of the superiority of New England clam chowder (“Manhattan-style is tomato soup, Charlotte, TOMATO SOUP”) was a personality test I hadn’t realized I was proctoring.

Lessons Beyond the Storyline

So, was this a story of serendipity? Absolutely. But here’s what that call taught me—lessons that extend well beyond the confines of my maritime meet-cute:

  • Say Yes to the Unexpected
    That phone call wasn’t in my five-year plan. Frankly, my “plan” involved penning breezy travel pieces until a more glamorous opportunity knocked. But sometimes, the best doors aren’t the ones you’re waiting next to; they’re the ones cracked open by surprise.

  • Lean Into Passion
    Chasing a niche can feel narrow at first, but doubling down where your heart is draws the right people—and the right opportunities—closer. Whether that’s on an old schooner or off-center in Portland’s dimmest dive bar, passion tends to send up flares of its own.

  • Love Doesn’t Follow a Timeline
    When Owen and I started to build a relationship, it wasn’t entirely smooth sailing. (I couldn’t resist the nautical pun—don’t @ me.) We had our moments, where two fiercely independent people collided like mismatched currents. But timing is so often an excuse people use to let fear win. When you’re open to the possibility of love, sometimes it’s just about being weathered enough to try.

Tying It All Together

Could I write a Maine-goes-to-Hollywood ending for how that phone call led me to both my dream career and a partner who’ll argue the correct way to load a dishwasher (he’s wrong, by the way)? Sure.

But the truth? The best calls you’ll ever answer, in love or in life, aren’t about promises; they’re about possibilities. Whether it’s a stranger with a Southern accent offering you a book deal or the flirty fisherman calling out “you dropped this” when you walk out of CVS, what matters most is what you say after you pick up the phone.