CHAPTER THREE: THE FESTIVAL OFFICE
The festival office occupied a former insurance storefront beside the town bakery.
Inside, three volunteers were sorting paper wristbands and packing souvenir cloth bags.
A large poster showed children smiling beneath a black circle surrounded by golden light.
Its slogan promised an unforgettable afternoon beneath the changing sky.
Ethan entered with Rachel just after one.
Maya Chen, the volunteer coordinator, looked up from a clipboard.
“You’re early for tomorrow’s setup.”
“We need to discuss the viewing glasses.”
Maya read his expression.
She dismissed the teenagers preparing wristbands and closed the front door.
“What happened?”
He showed her the manufacturer’s warning.
She studied the photographs for nearly a minute.
“Martin told us the first shipment was delayed and he arranged a replacement.”
“Did he show anyone documentation for the replacement?”
“He showed me a packing list.
”
“That isn’t independent verification.”
Maya reached beneath the counter and brought out a sealed packet.
She gave Ethan permission to examine the outer packaging without putting the device to his eyes.
The logo matched the questioned product in the email.
A small gold circle had been printed beside an assertion about certification.
Ethan photographed it and sent the image to Priya.
“How many of these have gone out?”
“About six hundred.”
Rachel looked up sharply.
“Six hundred families?”
“Some people bought multiple pairs.”
Maya’s voice had dropped almost to a whisper.
“We expected another two thousand at the gate.”
The office seemed suddenly smaller.
Maya took a breath and opened the event roster.
“The parks department signed off on the grounds.”
“That approval doesn’t verify eyewear,” Ethan said.
“I know that now.
”
The door opened behind them.
Martin entered carrying a metal cash box and a cardboard tube full of posters.
He stopped when he saw Ethan.
“You should not be here.”
Maya stepped away from the counter.
“Why did you tell Solstice Optical that Ethan approved the replacements?”
Martin set down the posters.
“Because he handles the educational program.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“We have an event to run.”
Ethan faced him.
“Did you receive a warning yesterday?”
Martin gave a tight smile.
“Manufacturers complain when you buy through resellers.”
“They said the products aren’t theirs.”
“They want us to buy another shipment at triple the price.”
Maya lifted the questioned package.
“Martin, children are going to wear these.”
“Children will attend under adult supervision.”
“Supervision doesn’t turn an unverified filter into a verified one,” Ethan replied.
Martin opened the cash box and began counting receipts, as if the subject had been settled.
Rachel moved toward him.
“You burned a warning addressed to Ethan this morning.”
He looked at her.
“Keep your accusations to yourself.”
“I saw you do it.”
“You saw a misunderstanding.”
Maya held up her hand.
“Stop.”
She spoke with the practiced firmness of a woman who coordinated volunteer disaster drills for the local hospital.
“No viewers leave this office until a qualified supplier verifies them.”
Martin snapped the cash box shut.
“You don’t have that authority.”
“I have custody of the volunteer distribution area.”
“The mayor is expecting six thousand visitors.”
“Then the mayor needs a different plan.”
Martin stared at her with a look Ethan had never seen on his face before.
It was not outrage.
It was fear sharpened by calculation.
“If this falls apart,” he said, “the town loses everything we put into it.”
Ethan waited until Martin looked at him.
“Why did the courier give you my envelope first?”
Martin’s eyes shifted toward the window.
“He recognized me as the organizer.”
“And you opened it.”
“I did what was necessary.”
“Necessary for whom?”
Martin walked out without answering.
Maya sat on the counter stool and covered her face.
“I need to call the parks director.”
Ethan knew the next twenty-four hours would decide whether the town had a disappointing festival or a dangerous one.
He also knew that the person who burned his letter still held thousands of dollars of tickets, contracts, and promises.
