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“We promise to keep the pyrotechnics to a minimum,” Stone offers.
“Please do,” Dan replies. “My insurance paperwork is complicated enough as it is.”
We start the walkthrough, and I follow as Marcus and Chief Morrison ask questions and make suggestions. I’m going to need a brand-new layout for the vendor stalls, but we have a lot more space now, which should make everyone happy.
“The power supply shouldn’t be an issue,” Marcus announces. “We can run lines from the main road, supplemented by generators if needed.”
Chief Morrison nods at the wide access paths I’m walking him through. “The natural curve of the land will make crowd control easier. Emergency response times will actually be better than at the square, believe it or not.”
My brother, who has been quieter than I expected all morning, chooses that moment to speak up.
“What about the livestock?”
The whole group turns.
“We’re talking thousands of people potentially wandering near active barns, disturbing and stressing the animals.” His hand gestures toward the neighboring properties. “It’s not just us. The Petersons share that fence line, and the Whitakers are right behind them. How do we keep festival crowds from spilling onto working farmland during one of the most critical seasons?”
Fuck, I hadn’t thought about that.
Chief Morrison’s face shifts. “Good catch. We’ll establish clear barriers with fencing and signage well before the livestock areas. Part of our preliminary safety assessment includes marking off-limits zones.” He makes another note. “We can also coordinate with your neighbors to ensure their properties are clearly demarcated. That’s standard protocol for events on working land.”
Bastian nods. The rest of the walkthrough goes smoothly. Marcus and Chief Morrison finish their assessments. Marcus gives me a rough infrastructure timeline, and Chief Morrison confirms the site can safely handle the expected capacity with the right protocols. Both of them look almost surprised at how well this will work.
They pack up and head back to their vehicles.
I grab my tablet from my car and come back with a stack of printouts.
“Okay,” I say, handing them around. “The town’s maintenance crew can handle most of the heavy lifting. But we’ll need you two”—I gesture between Bastian and Taylen—“to coordinate on-site logistics. I’ll have a vendor map to you by the end of the weekend.”
I brace myself for someone to combust.
Instead, Bastian looks out over the field and his shoulders drop.
“This is going to change everything,” he says quietly. “Once word gets out that Hall of Fame is hosting this…”
“We can keep it quiet,” I offer, but he’s already shaking his head.
“No. We can’t. And honestly?” He looks up, meets my eyes, and then he looks at Taylen as if seeking agreement. “If we’re doing this, if we’re really opening up the farms for the festival, then we should do it right.”
Stone perks up immediately. “Oh, I like where this is going.”
“If Hall of Fame is known for anything, it’s for putting on a hell of a show,” Bastian continues, “and if Winterberry needs a Christmas festival, then let’s give them the best damned one they’ve ever seen.”
“You’re serious,” Taylen says.
Bastian nods. “The farm’s always been about community, about the land supporting the people who work it. Maybe it’s time we remembered that includes more than just agriculture.”
Nikko is already pulling out his phone. “I can reach out to the lighting crew from our last tour. See who’s available.”
“And I know a dozen sound engineers who’d kill for a chance to work on something like this,” Stone adds.
“One rule,” Bastian says. “Hall of Fame is not performing. I don’t want this to be about us.”
They all nod.
My eyes drift to Fox, and I see the quiet support I need. This is going to work out. It’s going to be a hell of a lot of work, but it’s going to work out.
“Right. Okay. I need to rework the layout completely and revisit the budget. I need a new marketing plan, and I need to reach out to every vendor about the new footprint and features. I need to loop in the tourism boards. I need—”
