Chapter 5 #2
For half a beat, the room held still—Kayla’s eyes wide, Jason practically bouncing, Lynn shining like she wanted to high-five me on the spot.
Mr. Jenkins harrumphed, flipping his pen like he’d already voted no.
And Ethan—stone-faced, still glaring—looked exactly like a man who’d rather let the fair die than admit I might have a point.
I closed my briefcase with a snap, leaned lightly against the podium, and smiled, steady and unapologetic.
“You’ve kept the heart of Willowbrook beating for generations. I’m just here to plug it into an amp and make sure the whole county hears it.”
Then the room erupted. Pearls nodded to cardigans, teenagers exchanged grins, and a man in overalls muttered, “Wouldn’t mind somethin’ new.
” But not everyone was convinced. One woman pursed her lips so tight they nearly disappeared, and a pair of older men traded a look that said change had never impressed them.
Someone in the back sighed, “Here we go again,” under their breath.
Small-town whispers swelled—half excitement, half suspicion—until Lynn tapped her clipboard against the table.
“Thank you, Lily. The floor is now open for discussion.”
Mr. Jenkins leaned forward before anyone else could speak, his pen tapping a sharp rhythm against the tabletop.
“Well, it certainly was… spirited.” His gaze flicked to my boards and back to me, unimpressed.
“But turning the county fair into a rock show? That’s not what Willowbrook is about.
Folks come here for pie contests, livestock shows, quilts.
Not for neon guitars and kids screaming their lungs out at midnight. ”
A few heads nodded. Ethan's jaw tightened, arms crossed in silent agreement with Jenkins. The room held its breath.
Then a younger board member cleared his throat and leaned forward.
“Thank you, Lily, for that presentation. I’m Ben Mitchell—high school teacher, football coach.
” He shot Jenkins a respectful nod before continuing.
“With all due respect, Jerry, the fair’s been shrinking every year.
Last summer we couldn’t even cover the cost of the bandstand.
Maybe it’s time to try something that actually fills the seats. ”
His tone was calm but firm, his gaze cutting across the table toward Jenkins.
Lynn nodded, sliding her glasses higher on her nose. “No one’s talking about erasing traditions. Lily’s plan keeps the daytime exactly what it’s always been. She’s offering us a way to bring in the revenue we’ve been losing for five years straight. I’d call that worth considering.”
That was when Ethan finally spoke, his voice low but carrying.
“Revenue isn’t the only thing that matters.
” He didn’t look at me when he said it, which somehow stung worse.
“This fair is supposed to be about community, not cash grabs. You start chasing headliners, next thing you know it’s not Willowbrook’s fair anymore.
It’s just another circus rolling through town. ”
Before I could respond, several people chimed in at once.
“He’s right,” Mrs. Shipley said, clutching her purse. “You start bringing in rock bands, and next thing you know we’ve got hoodlums loitering in the parking lot.”
A man in overalls added, “And once you draw outsiders, it’s trouble. Last thing we need is folks we don’t know hanging around after dark.”
A woman snorted. “Bet we’ll have kids sneaking in with beer, too. Saw it on the news.”
A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. It was small-town panic at its finest—half genuine concern, half stories retold enough times to become truth.
Lynn finally slapped her pen down. “Oh, pipe down, Sally,” she said, eyes narrowing affectionately. “Nobody’s sneaking beer to impress you, not after what happened at the tenth-grade picnic.”
A wave of laughter broke the tension, Sally’s cheeks going pink, but the concerns still buzzed in the air.
The silence that followed Ethan’s words wasn’t agreement, exactly—but it wasn’t dismissal either. People were listening.
I let the pause stretch, the collective gaze of the board weighing heavily on me. My heart raced, excitement and fear knotted together as I leaned forward, my palms light on the podium.
This was my moment. But what if I fell flat?
I couldn’t let them down—not the kids in foster care who needed support, not the families who relied on the fair for their livelihoods—not when so much was at stake.
“Community isn’t the rides or the pies. Community is what those things fund. Foster care programs. Tutoring children in need. Meals for seniors. You can’t pay for those with nostalgia.”
I shifted my gaze deliberately, sweeping the tables and rows until I landed back on Jenkins and, unavoidably, Mr. Truck Glare himself.
“You want to talk about what matters? Keeping this fair alive matters. Making sure the next generation actually wants to show up matters. If you keep doing the same thing you’ve been doing, you’ll keep getting the same results.”
My voice sharpened, just enough. “This isn’t about chasing headliners. It’s about making Willowbrook’s fair visible. About making people drive here, spend money here, and leave talking about it. We can hold onto tradition and still build something big enough to matter.”
I straightened, letting a smile play at the edge of my mouth. “That’s what I do. That’s why I’m here. And if you’ll let me, that’s exactly what I’ll do for Willowbrook.”