Seven days until the Willow Creek Summer Festival opened, and the town square had taken on a magical, almost finished quality. Fairy lights were fully strung and glowing softly even in the late afternoon light. Booths stood proud with fresh paint, colorful banners fluttered in the breeze, and the main stage looked ready for live music. The air smelled of fresh-cut grass, lemon bars, and the faint metallic tang of rain that was never far away.
We arrived as a trio again — Amina chatting excitedly about her latest signage tweaks, Elias carrying a toolbox, and me with a sketchpad for last-minute adjustments. Mrs. Delgado spotted us immediately and waved us over with her ever-present clipboard.
“Perfect timing! Elias, the stage lighting needs one final adjustment. Amina, Lena is waiting for
