“After last night, I got to thinking about the power of this community. We have festivals and farmers markets that bring out the best and brightest this region has to offer. Over the past twenty years, we’ve created an entire economy around these events and made this bay a destination. But as I was driving home last night, I said to myself, I said ‘Gaines, we can do more.’ And you know what I thought of? I’ll tell you what I thought. I thought it’s time to do more.” He held out his hands. “And you’re the people I want at the forefront. Let me tell you what I see. I see a local restaurant week. Maybe a food truck festival. You folks have food trucks, right?”
Together, we replied, “No.”
Gaines brushed this negligible issue aside. “But restaurant week? That’s exciting! We could have themes. All the best seafood spots on the coast. All the vegan establishments. We can do it all.” He glanced at me and I knew he was coming in for the hard sell. “And it’s about time we bring an oyster festival to Friendship. That’s your ball game.”
Before I assembled the words to send this idea back to the hellfires from which it was forged, Sunny said, “You know how much we love festivals and farmers markets. Bethany’s company Roots and Shoots started out at farmers markets years ago when she and her partner were first brewing kombucha. And we’re signed up to attend most of the town festivals. Wearedoing it all, Gaines.”
The smile she gave him could’ve convinced me to play catch with a grenade.
“Restaurant weeks sound like a lot of fun and you’ll have to loop back here with an update once you have a coalition of businesses signed on for that.”
“Well, I was thinking, my thought was—”
“If you have a specific plan in mind for a festival and a team in place to launch it,” she continued, not giving an inch, “I’m sure Beckett and the rest of the Small Point Oyster team would be willing to hear it after the summer rush is finished. Until then, Beckett and I have a meeting to dash off to so you’ll have to excuse us.”
She glanced at me, bobbing her head and giving mego along with iteyes, and I managed, “Yeah. We are late for that meeting.”
“Fabulous,” he boomed. “This is just fabulous. Thank you! I’ll be seeing you two real soon, then.”
“Not too soon,” I muttered.
I followed Sunny inside the café once Gaines was on his way to blindside some other small business owner. She poured two drinks behind the counter and ducked into the kitchen to grab a few items despite Muffy’s pointed glare.
“I’ll be in the office for a bit,” she called to her partners. “Grab me when your parents get here, Beth. I need a Linda-and-Lyle hug.”
“Only if you put in that order,” Beth replied. “I need celery!”
I wanted to touch her the moment the door closed behind us but Sunny pushed a glass filled with something green into my hand and motioned to one of the chairs. “The trick to getting through conversations with Gaines Campbell is to suck out all the oxygen.”
“So, strangle him?”
She laughed and set a plate in front of me. “Cut him off before he can ramble you into whichever new half-baked plan he’s cooked up.” She plucked some grapes from the plate, saying, “I love a festival as much as anyone but we don’t need to add more to the calendar.”
“I don’t love festivals,” I said, picking up half a sandwich. It looked like chicken salad but that didn’t make sense. The other half looked like a BLT, but again, that could not be right.
She blinked at me. “You don’t? Why not?”
“Because they’re all bullshit folksy welcoming nonsense.” I took a sip of basil lemonade. It was so good, it was nearly arousing. See? This was what Sunny did to me. I was in deep trouble. “Who the hell needs acornfestival in their life?”
“The Sweet Corn Cobble is one of the best weekends of the year.” Her tone made it clear that she believed something was very wrong with me. “The cornhole tournament alone makes the whole thing worth it, and let’s not forget the part where everyone is drunk off their asses on bootleg corn whiskey.”
I took a bite of the not-chicken salad and groaned. It was incredible. I didn’t even care how it was possible. “First, this is fucking amazing, and second, these festivals try to make this town seem like it’s one big happy family when everyone knows that’s not the case. It’s putting on the appearance of quirky traditions and wide-open, welcoming arms, and that’s bullshit.”
Sunny shook her head and her hair slipped over her shoulder. It was loose and wavy today. “But it’s not bullshit.”
“I remember what it was like to be the new kid in this town and I can tell you that the only person who gave a fuck about welcoming me was your brother. The First Fruits Festival had nothing to do with it.”
She tucked her legs beneath her and leaned back in the chair, quiet for a moment while I demolished this half of the sandwich. Then, “I like the really obscure ones. Like the Arts and Hearts Festival in February. Everything is love themed but there’s also a strong angsty undercurrent too. Last year, a few of the vendors teamed up to sell a box designed as a Valentine’s Day for one. Nothing heart shaped, no mention of love, and a hand-blown glass dildo thick enough to make anyone forget their ex.”
I choked on the not-chicken salad. “Are you speaking generally or do you—I mean, is that something you have in your possession—"
“Close your mouth, Beck.” Sunny grinned. “And there’s the Craft Beer and Corgis event in September. It’s basically a night at the dog park with a load of food trucks and local beer vendors. I don’t think any town has ever conceived of something so simple and so perfect as dogs and beer.”
That did sound like a good time. Not that I was willing to admit it.
“I love that we lean into the weirdness,” she continued. “I love that people dress up like non-creepy woodland creatures for the Fox Run 5K in November, and I love the cutthroat competitiveness that everyone brings to the Jack-o-Lantern Jubilee.” She grabbed the last of the grapes. “I don’t think anyone is faking the appearance of a charming town. As we saw last night, this place is as complicated as anywhere else. But we have a lot of opportunities for the community to come together, if they so choose.”
I pointed to the empty spot where the not-chicken salad had sat. “What was that?”
