A Coventry Wedding. Becky Cochrane
anybody there. I was just taking a little vacation, and Dallas seemed like as good a place as anywhere. I had no idea it was a zillion miles from where you picked me up.”
“As an engaged woman, you might want to be careful about saying that I picked you up,” Sam said, keeping his eyes on the road even though his stupid grin was back.
“It’s not like anyone could get the wrong idea,” she said. “After all, you’re—”
“Not gay,” Sam said. “That’s my second confession.”
Chapter 5
Having spent the remainder of their trip to Coventry pretending she wasn’t annoyed, Jandy was relieved to finally be in the town itself. She got only the vaguest impression as they drove in. A banner hanging across one of the streets proclaimed June the month of the Godiva Festival and assured travelers they’d found “The Tiny Town with the Big Heart.”
She acted as if Sam’s confession didn’t bother her because she was dependent on his big heart to help her get her truck repaired and get her to the closest motel with a vacancy. She offered only the weakest protest when he pointed out that he hadn’t actually told her he was gay.
“I think you did,” she said.
“No, you asked how my parents reacted to the news that they had a gay kid. They do, in fact, have a gay kid who they accept without any problem. It’s just not me. It’s one of the birds.”
“The birds?”
“That’s what we call my sisters. They have bird names, remember?”
“Right,” she said.
He didn’t elaborate on which sister was gay, and she didn’t dare assume it was the mechanic. Thinking in stereotypes was a bad idea, and she was disappointed in herself for having done it when she was sizing up Sam. If being unable to name engine parts, unwilling to shoot a gun, fastidious about a clean vehicle, and kind toward abandoned dogs made a man gay, then most of the men she knew in L.A. were gay. Which wasn’t, come to think of it, altogether incorrect, except one of those men was her fiancé, and she knew he wasn’t gay.
“I didn’t want to leave you alone and stranded,” Sam explained. “I knew you could trust me to get you wherever you wanted to go, but I didn’t know if you could trust the next guy who came along. It was easier to let you think I was gay since it made you feel safer.”
She shrugged and lapsed into silence again. She could have pointed out that his noble assessment of his motives was inaccurate. He hadn’t known that she thought he was gay until after she’d slept in his truck, on his pillow, across the entire state of New Mexico. But she couldn’t deny that Sam hadn’t told any more lies than she had. Nor did he owe her explanations. He was just a guy who was towing Grandpa’s truck. They weren’t friends. After the pickup was repaired, they’d never see each other again. Whether he was straight or gay, honest or dishonest, a scheming businessman or a good Samaritan, none of it made any difference.
They pulled into the parking lot of a building with a sign that said BAILEY’S TEXACO, but there were no gas pumps. She gave Sam a curious look.
“This is the right place,” he assured her. “Revere Auto moved here from its old location a couple of weeks ago. We couldn’t do anything until the underground fuel tanks were removed and new concrete was poured. Now that the move’s official, Robin’s taking bids to get new signs installed.”
Jandy had no reason to doubt him until he tried to open the door to the building and found it locked. “Isn’t it hard to make money if you’re closed during normal business hours?”
“Robin’s probably gone to pick up a part or grab a burger,” Sam said. “I’ll just walk Sue while we wait.”
“I need to stretch my legs, too,” Jandy said. “I think I’ll walk back to the town square so I can get a better look at Coventry.”
Preoccupied with Sue, Sam nodded absently. Jandy grabbed her purse and began walking up Godiva Street toward the center of town. Before she’d gone a block, her mood lifted, as if the town itself were working some kind of magic on her. Except she didn’t believe in magic. She took her new camera from her purse and started snapping photos.
She passed a large building with a sign that said INDEPENDENT SEVEN TOYS. Since it didn’t appear to be a retail shop, she assumed it was a manufacturer. It seemed appropriate that a quaint little town with Victorian storefronts, flower-laden window boxes, and pristine sidewalks would be the location of a toy factory. It was like a fairy-tale village. Except she didn’t believe in fairy tales. She decided it was more like a prototypical small town on a Hollywood back lot.
She walked through a cluster of buildings on either side of the street that signs identified as Old Towne Shoppes. Beyond them, Lady’s Ryde Restaurant was across from the Brazos Inn. All the buildings looked inviting, as if just opening their doors would take her toward new enchantments.
On a whim, she went inside the Brazos Inn. An elderly woman sitting behind an antique desk was reading Texas Monthly. She looked up when she heard the door chime and smiled at Jandy.
“May I help you?”
“I guess it’s too much to hope that you have a room.”
“I’m sorry, we’re booked until August.”
“Do you ever have cancellations?”
“Yes,” the woman said, but she looked sympathetic as she added, “and we also have a waiting list. I wish I could give you a better answer.”
“I knew it was a long shot,” Jandy said. She turned to go out, then quickly turned back. “What about a job? Do you need extra help? Is there a little cubbyhole where an employee can sleep?”
The woman shook her head and said, “We’re fully staffed. We usually give our summer jobs to high school students.”
“Thanks, anyway,” Jandy said and stepped back outside.
While she walked, the few people she passed on the street smiled or nodded. She had no idea if they were residents or tourists, but no one seemed to be in a hurry. She stopped for a minute to take photos of the lush green trees and colorful flowers. It was hard to believe such a place could be in the same state as that endless, boring desert. She found this version of Texas a lot more appealing.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” a woman asked as she walked by pushing a baby stroller. “Sometimes I have to stop and take it all in, too.”
“It doesn’t seem real, does it?” Jandy asked. She knelt to pick up a stuffed octopus the baby dropped on the sidewalk and was rewarded with a toothless baby smile. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling back.
“Thanks,” the woman said. “He throws that thing out every time he sees a pretty girl.”
“So you’ve got a little flirt on your hands.”
“Yes, he’s a charmer. Coventry’s a picture-perfect little town. If you get into conversations with the locals, you’ll find they know what’s going on in the world. They’re just willing to let their visitors take a breather from it all.”
Another woman who’d stopped to admire the baby nodded and said, “Coventry’s a lovely place. I think it’s special because it’s not a resort built for tourists. It’s a real town. I don’t think I could live in a small town, but every summer for five years, it’s been a good place to visit.”
“Good manners and hospitality are still important here,” the young mother said. She started pushing the stroller and added, “I hope you enjoy your visit.”
“Thanks, you too,” Jandy called after her. She crossed Oak Road to the square. Even though temporary booths and tents being set up for the festival’s weekend kickoff covered the green grass, they didn’t detract from the square’s charm. There was a stone-and-wood church with boldly