Chapter Ten: Festival Morning
By nine on Saturday, a dozen volunteers were hanging paper lanterns along Hazel Court.
A local youth orchestra tuned instruments beneath a rented canopy.
Children chased each other between hay bales while vendors wheeled carts into place.
The street looked cheerful enough to make Michael doubt that anyone outside the dispute understood how serious the access issue had become.
The fire department had required the event organizer to leave Meridian House’s front entrance clear.
Firth had submitted a revised plan showing food vendors farther down the block and temporary barriers around the no-parking zone.
Patel inspected the setup early and found the initial positions acceptable.
She warned the crew that every barrier must remain movable and that the emergency route to Meridian could not be narrowed during the event.
Firth stood nearby and agreed enthusiastically.
“Safety is our top priority,” he said.
Michael wanted to ask him why that principle had been absent from the old maps.
Instead he joined Rosa and three neighbors who had volunteered to check access throughout the day.
They carried printed site plans and telephone numbers for the event coordinator.
They were not acting as police or fire officers.
They were simply watching whether vendors followed the layout that had been approved.
Evelyn Ross brought bottled water for the volunteers.
Simone Park marked the clear area beside the intersection with washable chalk.
Martin Kessler helped move a heavy planter that had been left in the wrong position.
Small practical tasks had begun to create a cooperation that the meeting alone could not accomplish.
Carol watched from the edge of her driveway.
She wore a plain sweater and looked older than she had during the police call.
Some neighbors refused to greet her.
Others looked away.
At eleven, Firth’s event assistant delivered a new sign that read HISTORIC GARDEN CORRIDOR.
The sign was intended for the strip beside Michael’s hydrangeas.
Its painted illustration showed cheerful pedestrians walking between flower beds.
Michael asked where the fire access designation would appear.
The assistant said Firth had not approved any additional wording.
“Then don’t put it up,” Michael replied.
He showed the assistant Patel’s site plan and explained that the corridor was under active safety review.
The assistant apologized and took the sign away.
An hour later, Firth approached Michael near the musicians’ canopy.
He accused Michael of harassing event staff and making the street appear unsafe.
Michael said he had asked for an inaccurate sign not to be displayed.
“You keep confusing one obsolete line on an old drawing with a real emergency route,” Firth said.
“The city disagrees.”
“Cities change their minds.”
“Not because you print a prettier brochure.”
Firth leaned closer.
“You could have walked away with a good price for your house.”
“The offer wasn’t really about my house.”
“You think you’re saving somebody,” Firth said.
“You’re about to cost an entire building its financing.”
Michael felt the accusation land because he knew Meridian House’s owners had made poor decisions too.
He also knew that hiding the access problem would not make the building safer.
“Then let’s get the building a route that works,” he said.
Firth gave him a hard look and walked away.
At two, the festival filled with visitors.
A shuttle bus unloaded a group of prospective investors who followed a guide toward the model cottages.
Several wore badges displaying the logo of a regional development fund.
Michael watched them admire the painted streetfront gardens.
He wondered how many understood that the narrow strip between the houses was meant to lead emergency vehicles toward the occupied building behind the wall.
Then a volunteer noticed the first unauthorized change.
A catering truck had been moved from its approved parking area to the entrance of Meridian House.
The driver said an event supervisor had told him to park there to make room for the investor shuttle.
Rosa approached the driver with the approved plan.
He looked alarmed and started the engine to move.
Before he could pull away, a loud cracking sound came from the temporary electrical distribution box behind the stage.
The lights under the canopy blinked.
Someone shouted that smoke was coming from the cable junction.
