Kurt pulled open the door to the newspaper office, stepped inside, and nearly got run over by a shorter, curly-haired man who was barging out the door. "Sorry. Excuse me," Kurt mumbled, stepping to the side as quickly as he could. Who in the world was that? Kinda rude…

He watched the man climb into a small black car parked right outside and drive away quickly. Shaking his head, he turned and walked toward the closest desk where Tina Cohen-Chang, a girl he remembered well from high school, sat behind a computer, a pair of dark-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose.

I bet she won't remember me, Kurt thought to himself as he leaned against her desk. He cleared his throat. "Excuse me. I'm Kurt Hummel, and I'm here to see—"

"Kurt Hummel! Hi!" Tina exclaimed, her eyes growing wide. "You remember me, right? I'm Tina. Tina Chang. Of course, you would have known me as Tina Cohen-Chang in high school, but when I married Mike, I just became Tina Chang. How are you? It's so good to see you after all these years!"

I guess she does remember me. "Tina, yes. Of course, I remember you. How could I forget all those fantastic solos in Glee Club?" Kurt chuckled. "It's great to see you as well. I'm doing just fine. I've been back in town for about a week. Just closed on the old Berry house this morning. I'm, uh, here to see Joel Anderson about the photography position? We did a phone interview while I was still in New York, and he told me to come by today to start work."

"Sure. He's back in his office, and I think he's free now. Let me check. So good to see you," she told him again as she got up and walked down the short hallway to her right to an office at the back. Knocking on the door, she opened it just a crack and peeked inside.

Kurt could hear muffled voices, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. So, he waited patiently, thinking again about the man who'd almost run him over. He looked young, possibly like someone he could have known in high school, but Kurt hadn't been very well-liked or active in high school, too caught up in his own head. It was possible he could have missed him, but maybe the guy had moved to town recently. He was kinda cu—Don't even go down that road. You're not looking for love right now. You need time to focus on yourself and take care of your dad, not a date at Breadstix.

"Joel can see you now," Tina told him, coming back down the short hallway. "He's excited to meet you."

"Thanks," Kurt said, taking the small hallway in a few short strides. He pushed open Joel's door, which was already cracked, slowly, not bothering to knock. "Joel?" he asked, when he could see the man sitting behind his desk. "I'm Kurt Hummel. Tina said you were ready for me?"

"Come in. Come in," Joel Anderson told him, rising from his desk to shake Kurt's hand. He was tall, about the same height as Kurt's six-foot frame, and he had a kind smile that matched the warmth in his brown eyes. His handshake was firm, and he carried himself with the authority of a man who'd been in charge for years. "It's nice to meet you, Kurt. I have to say that when I read over your resumé, I was a little confused about why you were applying to be a photographer at my newspaper. It's not often that we get someone as accomplished as yourself in the middle of Ohio, looking for part-time reporter work."

"Yes. Well, all that's behind me now. I'm back in Lima for good, and I need something to make ends meet. I just bought the old Berry place, an—"

"That was you? I was just telling Tina this morning we needed to find out about that and write a story. Perhaps you can be the photographer for that story then, since you could get us inside snap shots."

"I'd rather not have a story run on me or the house right now, to be honest. She needs a lot of love, and I'd like to wait until she looks beautiful again."

"Well, we can decide on all that later," Joel replied, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm just glad to know I don't have to send Pam over to the courthouse to get the records. Anyway…" He reached into his desk, pulling out a file folder. He plopped it down in front of him, opened it, and skimmed over the words printed inside. "Looks like you've already gone over to the HR office and filed all the paperwork, so we're good to go there. You've asked for part-time hours, which is great. How does Monday through Wednesday, 8:00 to 4:00 sound? We print the paper on Wednesday night, and everybody here is off on Fridays unless there's a story to cover. How do you feel about working special hours for local events and things? We do have one full-time photragrapher on staff but I'm sure he'd love a break."

"I would consider doing a few. Maybe two a month? I really do need as much open time as possible for the house and caring for my dad."

"How is Burt? I heard he was having heart troubles."

"He's doing a lot better now. We're waiting on test results, but the doctors think the worst of it has passed. They're hoping for a pill to heal him up fully."

"That's amazing. So, I'll put you down as 'occasional' on those special events. Monday through Wednesday is a go, though?"

"How long can I have for lunch on those days?"

"An hour at least. More if you need it. We're pretty flexible here. As long as everything comes in by the deadline, we do our best to work with schedule changes."

"We should be able to make that work, then," Kurt replied, relief filling him. That had been one of his concerns about working a job like this again, having to answer to a boss who expected him to be more excited about company time than he was about his personal life. That's why he wasn't thrilled about freelancing. He hated being on someone else's schedule. "On the phone last week, you mentioned that I could start today. Is that still happening?"

"Absolutely. I just hired a new junior reporter today who is going to be your partner on most stories. He went down to the HR office to file his paperwork, but he should be back here lickety-split. Then, you two are headed down to cover the building of that new horse barn at the fairgrounds. Just need a few snapshots of the progress and maybe one shot of the foreman."

"Sure."

"If you just want to wait in the lobby for the new reporter, he should be back in—"

"Hey, Dad," came a voice from the doorway.

Kurt whirled around to look, surprised to see the man who had almost run him over as he came in peering around the door.

"Everything's filed. I was just checking to see if the ne—"

That's when their eyes met and their breath caught, and the man in the doorway found he could no longer speak.