Chapter 7
Cassidy arrived at the Bayview General Store conference room fifteen minutes early.
She balanced a leather portfolio, her laptop, and a canvas tote bag filled with printed copies of her presentation.
The morning air was already thick with humidity, and she’d made the mistake of wearing a silk blouse.
It clung to her back as she pushed through the door.
She set up her laptop and began arranging handouts at each seat.
The presentation had taken her until two in the morning to finish, but it was good.
Really good. Color-coded timelines, budget breakdowns, sponsor outreach templates, and social media calendars.
Everything they needed to turn the festival around.
She smoothed her skirt and checked her watch. Ten minutes.
The door swung open. Sally Morris entered first, carrying a box of pastries. “Morning, dear. I brought bear claws.”
“That’s thoughtful. Thank you.” Cassidy gestured to the table. “I’ve prepared materials for everyone.”
Sally picked up a handout and flipped through it. Her eyebrows rose. “Well. You’ve been busy.”
Mayor West arrived next, followed by Marty Fuller. They settled into their seats and reached for the materials. Bryan came in last. He wore a faded shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans that had seen better days. He glanced at Cassidy’s setup, then took the seat farthest from her.
“Good morning, everyone.” Mayor West smiled brightly. “Cassidy has put together something to share with us today.”
“I can see that.” Bryan picked up his copy of the handout, but he didn’t open it.
She stood and opened her laptop. The projector hummed to life.
“I’ve spent the last few days analyzing the festival’s historical performance data and comparing it to similar events in coastal communities.
What I’ve found is that we have significant opportunities for growth, but we need to approach this strategically. ”
She clicked to the first slide. It showed a graph tracking attendance over the past decade. “As you can see, attendance has declined by thirty-eight percent since 2015. However, that’s actually on par with similar events that haven’t adapted their marketing approach.”
Bryan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.
“The good news is that coastal tourism in Florida is actually up. We’re not losing visitors because people don’t want to come to places like Starlight Shores. We’re losing them because they don’t know we exist.” She clicked to the next slide. “Here’s our current digital footprint.”
The screen showed their barely active Facebook page, the lack of an Instagram presence, and a website that looked like it hadn’t been updated since 2010.
Sally winced. “Oh my.”
“It’s not great,” Cassidy agreed. “But it’s fixable.
What we need is a comprehensive digital strategy that reaches our target demographics where they actually spend their time.
” She clicked through slides showing sample social media posts, influencer partnership opportunities, and targeted ad campaigns.
“Now, I’ve broken down the action items into phases.
” She distributed a second handout. This one was a detailed timeline spanning the next six weeks.
“Phase one focuses on establishing our digital presence and creating shareable content. Phase two is about partnership development and sponsor outreach. Phase three is the final push with coordinated advertising and media coverage.”
Marty studied the timeline. “This is thorough.”
“Thank you. I’ve also included budget estimates for each phase.
Some of this we can do for free using existing platforms and community volunteers.
The paid advertising component would require an investment of approximately five thousand dollars, but I believe we could secure local business sponsorships to cover most of that cost.”
She clicked to another slide. “I’ve identified twelve potential sponsors who align with our target demographics. Here’s a draft sponsorship package with tiered benefits.”
Mayor West leaned forward. “Cassidy, this is impressive.”
Bryan’s chair scraped against the floor. “Can I say something?”
“Of course.” She paused the presentation. “I’m open to feedback.”
“This isn’t the Starlight Harbor Festival.” He tapped the handout. “This is some corporate marketing campaign that could be for any event in any town.”
Heat flushed her face. “I’m not sure what you mean. Everything here is specifically tailored to this community.”
“Really? Because I see a lot of buzzwords about authentic coastal experiences, curated local culture, and Instagram-worthy moments. What I don’t see is anything about the actual people in this town, the ones who’ve been running this festival for years.”
“The timeline includes multiple community engagement touchpoints—”
“Touchpoints.” Bryan shook his head. “You want to turn this into a photo op. Get some influencers to show up and post pretty pictures so tourists will come, spend money, and then leave. That’s not what this festival is about.”
She gripped the edge of the table. “What it’s about is survival. Your attendance is down by nearly forty percent. If you don’t make changes, there won’t be a festival in five years.”
“Maybe that would be better than turning it into a carnival.”
“I’m not suggesting a carnival. I’m suggesting professional marketing practices that have been proven to work.”
“For corporations. For people who don’t care about anything except the bottom line.
” Bryan stood. “My grandfather started this festival because he wanted to celebrate the community that kept the lighthouse running for generations. It was never supposed to be some branded event designed to extract money from tourists.”
“No one is extracting anything.” She could hear her voice getting sharper, and she tried to moderate her tone. “I’m trying to help you reach people who would genuinely appreciate what Starlight Shores has to offer. That’s not exploitation. That’s connection.”
“You don’t know the first thing about this town. You’ve been here, what, a week or so? And you think you can waltz in with your fancy presentations and tell us how to do everything better?”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Then what would you call it?” He gestured at the projector screen. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re trying to fix something you don’t understand.”
Mayor West cleared her throat. “Bryan, I think if we just—”
“You want to talk about understanding?” Cassidy cut her off.
Her hands were shaking. She pressed them flat against the table.
“Let me tell you what I understand. I understand that half the storefronts at the far end of downtown are empty. I understand that your restaurant is struggling to stay afloat. I understand that if this festival fails, you lose one of the few things that still brings people to this town.”
Bryan’s eyes flashed. “You don’t know anything about my restaurant.”
“I know you’re working eighteen-hour days and still barely breaking even.
I know you can’t afford to hire enough staff.
I know you’re one bad season away from losing everything your family built.
” The words came out cold and hard. “So maybe instead of fighting every suggestion I make, you could consider the possibility that I actually know what I’m talking about. ”
The room fell silent. Sally set down her bear claw. Marty studied his hands.
Bryan stared at her. Anger flickered across his face, and she swore she also saw hurt, but he quickly covered it.
“You think you’ve got it all figured out.” His voice was quiet now. Dangerous. “You come in here with your statistics and your target demographics and your five-thousand-dollar ad campaigns. You think that’s what’s going to save us?”
“I think it’s a start.”
“It’s a bandage. You’re not solving the actual problems. You’re just putting a pretty face on them and hoping tourists won’t notice what’s underneath.
” He grabbed his handout and portfolio. “You want to run this your way? Go ahead. I’m sure the mayor would be thrilled to hand it all over to someone with your credentials. ”
“Bryan—” Mayor West started.
“I’m done.” He headed for the door.
Cassidy’s pulse pounded in her temples. “We’re supposed to be doing this together.”
Bryan turned back. “Are we? Because I don’t remember being asked if I wanted a co-chair.”
The words hit like a slap. Cassidy looked at Mayor West. The mayor’s face had gone pink.
“Aren’t we at least going to discuss it?” Cassidy forced herself to keep her voice level. “I thought we were co-chairs.”
“Whatever would make you think that?” Bryan’s eyes stayed on the mayor.
Mayor West shifted in her seat. “Well, you need help, Bryan. You’re so busy. And Cassidy has time to help us. It seemed foolish to throw that away.”
“Right. Because I can’t handle it on my own.” Bryan’s laugh was bitter. “Fine. You want her? You got her. It’s all hers.”
He pushed through the door. It swung shut behind him with a bang that rattled the windows.
Nobody spoke. Cassidy stood frozen at the front of the room. Her carefully prepared presentation glowed on the screen behind her. Thirty slides of data and strategy that suddenly felt completely useless.
Mayor West rubbed her temples. “I’ll talk to him. He’ll come around.”
Cassidy sat down. “I don’t think he will.”
“He’s just protective of the festival. It means a lot to him.”
“I understand that. I’m not trying to destroy what he’s built.”
Sally reached over and patted her arm. “We know that, dear.”
Did they? Cassidy looked at her presentation materials scattered across the table. Maybe Bryan was right. Maybe she didn’t understand anything about this town or what the festival actually meant to the people who lived here.
She’d approached it exactly the way she approached everything. Analyze the problem, identify the solution, and implement the strategy. It was professional and efficient.
But watching Bryan walk out, she’d seen something in his face that her data hadn’t captured. The festival wasn’t a failing brand that needed repositioning. It was connected to something deeper. His grandfather. His family. The lighthouse itself.
And she’d stood there with her graphs and told him his way wasn’t good enough.
Mayor West gathered her things. “Let’s reconvene early next week. That’ll give everyone time to cool down and think things through.”
The others filed out. Cassidy stayed in her seat. She stared at her laptop screen until it dimmed into sleep mode. Her reflection appeared in the black glass. She looked tired.
You don’t know the first thing about this town.
He was right. She’d spent days analyzing Starlight Shores like it was a marketing case study, studying demographics, conversion rates, and audience personas. She’d walked past real people having real conversations and saw them only as data points.
The realization settled hard on her. This was exactly what had gotten her here in the first place. Treating everything like a problem to solve, a metric to optimize, and a presentation to deliver. Never stopping to ask if the solution actually served anyone besides her own need to be right.
She closed her laptop. The conference room felt too small suddenly, the air too thick. She needed to get out.
Outside, the morning had heated into a sweltering midday. Tourists wandered past with ice cream cones and shopping bags. A couple took selfies in front of a mural. None of them had any idea that this town was struggling. That’s what Bryan had meant about the bandage.
She walked without direction. Her feet carried her toward the waterfront. She ended up at the public dock where fishing boats bobbed in their slips. An older man sat at the end with a rod and a bucket.
“Any luck?” she asked.
He glanced up. “Not yet. Fish are smarter than I am.”
She almost smiled. “Mind if I sit?”
“Free country.”
She settled onto the weathered wood. Her silk blouse was definitely ruined. She didn’t care. They sat in silence for a while. Gulls circled overhead. The water lapped against the pilings.
“I’m Captain Roy,” he said eventually. “And you’re the one helping with the festival.”
“I was. I’m not sure anymore.”
“Heard there was some excitement at the meeting.”
Of course he had. She’d forgotten how fast news traveled in small towns. “I made a mess of things.”
“Bryan’s got a hard head. He comes by it honestly, though. His granddad was the same way.”
She watched a pelican dive for fish. It came up empty. “I didn’t mean to upset him.”
“Probably not. But you did anyway.” Captain Roy reeled in his line and checked the bait.
“Bryan’s been carrying the weight of that festival since his daddy passed away.
He took it on himself to keep it going exactly the way it always was.
Like if he changed anything, he’d be disrespecting all the people who came before. ”
“That’s not sustainable.”
“No. But try telling him that.” The old man cast his line back out. “He’s scared. That’s what it comes down to. Scared he’s going to be the one who fails. Scared that if he changes things, they’ll slip away anyway, and it’ll be his fault for not holding on tight enough.”
The words echoed what Winnie had said. She watched the fishing line drift on the current. “How do you help someone who doesn’t want to be helped?”
“You stop trying to help and start trying to understand.” Captain Roy squinted at her. “That boy doesn’t need someone to swoop in and fix everything. He needs someone to stand beside him and admit they’re scared too.”
She thought about her presentation and all those slides full of solutions. Had she asked Bryan a single question about what he actually wanted? What he feared?
No. She’d told him what to do.
“I need to apologize,” she said quietly.
“Probably wouldn’t hurt.” Captain Roy’s rod jerked. He set the hook and started reeling. “Get me that bucket, would you?”
She grabbed the bucket and watched him land a fish. It was a sheepshead, according to Captain Roy. He unhooked it carefully and lowered it back into the water.
“Too small,” he explained. “Got to let them grow.”
She nodded.
“Thanks for the company,” Captain Roy said. “And don’t be too hard on yourself. Growing pains hurt. That’s how you know it’s working.”
Cassidy walked back toward the lighthouse. Her mind was already working through what she needed to say to Bryan. Not a pitch. Not a presentation. Just the truth. She was scared too.