“For a festival of fruit?” Ken asked, spitting out the word as if it were rotten.

Chip nodded. “Yes. Orcas Island used to have hundreds of acres of orchards. It was a major industry for the first settlers.”

Claire leaned in. “Really?”

“Yep. It was all fruit, fishing, and logging.” Chip liked that Claire seemed genuinely interested in this. He made a mental note to give her one of his Orcas Island history books later. “It wasn’t until they figured out irrigation on the mainland that farming sort of fell by the wayside, and tourism became the major industry. The event combines the old and the new.”

Claire smiled. “I love that. What kind of attractions are there?”

Chip looked around the table, relishing how unhappy Ken looked. “Well, there is a jam and preserve competition, of course. A pie baking contest, a pie eating contest – ”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Ken said, putting up a hand. “Do we really want our hotel to be associated with a pie eating contest?”

For the first time during this conversation, Chip felt his temper flare. He decided to hold his tongue rather than respond to the “our hotel” comment.

“I think it’s nice,” Claire said. “What’s wrong with a pie eating contest?”

Ken made a face that showed there was something very wrong with a pie eating contest. “If you want history, why don’t you have something like…a Thanksgiving reenactment, later in the year?”

“What would that entail?” asked Chip.

Ken waved a hand. “You know, dress up half of the town children in pilgrim costumes and the other half in feathers. One could be the turkey. I know a company that designs magnificent sets. We can order one. That’s the sort of aesthetic you want to go for. Not people shoving pie into their faces.”

Chip cocked his head to the side. “Should I send a boat to the reservation and pick up some native actors for you?”

“Oh my gosh,” Ken darted a hand to his mouth. “There’s a reservation nearby? Even better!”

Chip nodded. “Yes, the Lummi tribe. My grandmother grew up there.”

Ken let out a laugh. “Don’t get your feathers ruffled, Chip. It’s just an idea. This is all about ideas.”

Chip raised an eyebrow. Luckily, he had no issues holding his temper this time. Not that Ken needed to know that. “My feathers?”

“Oh my goodness, I didn’t mean it that way,” Ken added, rushing to pat him on the shoulder. “You can’t take it the wrong way.”

Chip stared at him for a beat before cracking a smile. “I’m just pulling your leg.” He stood up, pleased with the effect that he’d had. “I’ve got a couple of things to take care of, but maybe we can meet later, Claire?”

She nodded. “Sure, any time.”

Chip walked off, smiling to himself.

Chapter Twelve