Читать книгу A Coventry Wedding - Becky Cochrane - Страница 12

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 colored stained glass at the far end. On the opposite side of the square from where she stood, she could see a fountain. The sound of its gentle splash was irresistible and drew her that way.

When she reached the fountain, she stared up at the statue of the woman on horseback. She was beautiful and had long hair partially covering her nude body. Jandy realized she was looking at the statue of Lady Godiva that Sam had told her about. She took a photo.

“If you throw a coin in the fountain, your wish will come true,” a girl said as she paused next to Jandy.

“I don’t believe in making wishes,” Jandy said, but smiled so her words wouldn’t sound harsh.

The girl reached down to scratch her dog’s ears—a trim greyhound, nothing like the lumbering giant that Sam had rescued—and said, “I believe in making wishes. I’ll make one for you.”

Jandy shook her head as the girl tossed a coin into the water. “What did you wish for me?”

“I’ll let you know when it comes true. Come on, Rip.”

Jandy watched as the girl led the dog away. She felt the strangest yearning. She wanted to be a tourist like the woman with the stroller, sure of a room at the inn. She wanted to look like she belonged to the town like the girl with the greyhound named Rip. She didn’t want Sam to drive her to Fort Worth or Dallas, which were probably just concrete-and-steel cities like L.A. She didn’t want to worry about the truck or the wedding or where her next job would come from.

She wanted to just be for a while.

She looked up at Lady Godiva, thinking of the story Sam had told her, and suddenly she realized her arms were covered in goose bumps. She remembered why the city’s name had seemed familiar. The year before, she’d read an article on the Internet about Yoko Ono. John Lennon’s widow had dedicated two Japanese oak trees in Coventry, England, in memory of acorns she and John had planted in that city in the 1960s during one of their first peace protests.

“Imagine,” Jandy said and laughed nervously. She glanced around. Seeing no one, she dug inside her fake Fendi until she came up with a fistful of coins to throw in the fountain.

She strolled back across the square to the other corner so she could examine the quaint First Coventry Church building. The sun glinted off its windows. She walked around it and took more pictures. She was sure that the pews and floors would be bathed in the colors of the stained glass. Even though in a town this small the church was probably never locked, she decided not to go inside.

Looking back in the direction she’d come, she noticed a library and a post office. Instead of retracing her steps, she went down Dresden Street in the general direction of Revere Auto. The boxy lines of the office buildings she passed were softened by trees and flower beds bursting with color. The town hall was a stately red brick building. In Southern California, brick was impractical because of earthquakes. Since she almost never saw it, it struck her as prestigious.

Reaching the end of the block, she paused in front of the Godiva Inn, wondering if she should ask about a room there, even though she already knew the answer. She glanced around and saw gold lettering on the window of a shop across the street: MOLLY’S BEAUTY SHOP.

Her hair, which she thought of as her best feature, was tightly French-braided and tucked under a clean navy bandanna. She’d now gone three days without washing it, something she never did. The prospect of having someone else shampoo it, massaging her scalp and the back of her neck, letting her sit still with her eyes closed while it was dried for her, was ridiculously tempting. Anyone who didn’t have thick, curly, waist-length hair could never know what a pain it was just to dry, much less straighten and style.

She had no idea how many hours she would be in Coventry or how long it might take to find a motel room outside town, and she couldn’t bear having dirty hair another second.

She crossed the street. When she opened the door, she again felt like she’d stepped onto a movie set. Two women were under retro hair dryers with hard, clear plastic hoods that lowered over their heads. Their hair was set in the kind of rollers that she vaguely remembered Aunt Ruby using many years before. The two women were speaking loudly about chili recipes until they spotted her. They broke off to regard her with friendly interest. When she smiled at them, they smiled back.

“Hi, there,” a woman said, and Jandy turned to look at her. She was wearing a black apron. Her hair was dyed jet black and teased to impossible proportions, and her eyes were outlined with black eye pencil and tons of mascara. She’d paused in the middle of a foil wrap, and she and her customer were both watching Jandy with pleasant, expectant expressions. “I’m Phylura. Could I help you?”

Jandy felt a tremor of anxiety. She didn’t have 1960s hair. Beatle girlfriends might have felt right at home, but all the rollers and dryers and teased hair made her nervous.

“I don’t have an appointment,” she said. “I just need a shampoo and blow dry.”

Phylura nodded and yelled, “Evan! Can you take a walk-in?”

A tall man came from a room at the back of the shop, and Jandy relaxed. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that said NEVER THOUGHT I’D MISS NIXON. His blond hair was cut short and only the front part was pushed up a little. It was a style that was currently popular among some of Hud’s more meticulously groomed friends. He was proof that at least one person in Molly’s Beauty Shop was living in 2006.

He smiled at Jandy and said, “Hi, there. Are you in a hurry?”

“No,” she said, dismissing Sam and Grandpa’s pickup from her thoughts. She needed salon time, and she sensed that Evan was exactly the kind of stylist she needed it from. “I just want my hair shampooed and dried.”

“I have to finish a cut and a comb-out, then I can take you. Sorry for the wait. We’re not usually this busy on a weekday.”

“And Tryphena is usually here. Tryphena is my sister,” Phylura added for Jandy’s benefit. “She works here, too.”

“You have very unusual names,” Jandy said as Evan walked away. She hastened to add, “They’re pretty. Just different.”

“Hon, just wacky is what they are. They suit Phena and me, I guess. They’re Wicks family names that seem to skip a couple of generations, then come back. It was my luck to be born this go-round.” She efficiently foil-wrapped another strand of her customer’s hair while Jandy sat down to wait for Evan.

“I’m just plain Lois,” the customer said with a smile at Jandy. Then she looked at Phylura’s reflection in the mirror and said, “Where is Phena?”

“You haven’t heard? Jay Jay—that’s my brother,” she explained with a quick glance at Jandy, “got Fiji—that’s Tryphena’s son, his real name is Fred Junior—in trouble again. See, they’re uncle and nephew, but they’re only two years apart. Even though Jay Jay should be setting an example, he’s usually the one who starts everything.”

“What did he do this time?” Lois asked.

“I can’t believe Clay didn’t tell you.”

“You know Clay never tells me anything,” Lois said.

“Well, after Mayor Murray said no fireworks from now until the official city fireworks on the Fourth, Jay Jay just had to buy some. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you can’t hide fireworks. You set them off, you either get noise or a light show. Jay Jay decided he could get away with it as long as he didn’t shoot them off from his own place. So he and Fiji went behind Christ Church, and the first bottle rocket? Shot right into the top of the mayor’s oak tree and set it on fire. Jay Jay started running around in a panic with Mayor Murray’s garden hose. He did nothing except spray water inside her open dining room window, knocking a bunch of crystal off a china cabinet and soaking her rug. Our mayor is a woman,” she explained to Jandy.

Jandy nodded, eager to hear the rest of the story.

“Fiji ran inside the church kitchen, grabbed a fire extinguisher, and jammed it down his pants before he climbed the tree. Got halfway up and the fire extinguisher went off, filling his pants with foam and scaring the hell out of him. Jay Jay said Fiji hit every branch on the way down, which I guess was good. Broke his fall. The fire fizzled out by itself, but not before all the fire department and half the police department trampled Mayor Murray’s flower beds. So now Phena, Jay Jay, and Fiji are talking to the mayor about a little community service for the boys.”

“I’m not sure the community can take much more of their servicing,” Lois said. She looked at Jandy, who was still laughing at the image of the fire extinguisher discharging in someone’s pants, and said, “You must think you’re in Crazy Town.”

“I think it’s better than television,” Jandy said.

Phylura nodded philosophically, then said, “Hey, if you’re thirsty—”

“Don’t you dare offer her any of that liquid poison you call tea,” Evan said as he settled one of the hair dryer women into a chair at the next station. He had the brightest eyes, and Jandy felt special every time he turned them on her. “I’ve got a spa pedicure chair in the next room. It gently massages your back while your feet soak in a hot bath of rosemary and peppermint. You can get a little pampering while you wait. And a bottle of icy cold water. My treat.”

“That all sounds wonderful,” Jandy said.

She followed him and took off her shoes while he got everything ready. Then he turned and said, “Did I ever introduce myself? I’m Evan Hammett.”

“Jandy Taylor,” she said, deciding she might as well stick with that name. After all, Jandy Taylor was on an adventure, until the person that Lois might dub plain Jane Halli went back to L.A.

After a few minutes of blissful relaxation, she thought about Sam waiting for her at the garage. She decided there was no hurry. He still had to get Grandpa’s pickup unloaded. And his sister would need time to determine what was wrong with the engine.

She was almost asleep when Evan came back and softly said, “How’re you doing?”

“I’m in heaven.”

“You’re easy.”

“I’ll bet you say that to all the girls,” she said drowsily.

Evan gently removed her feet from the bath and dried them off. Then he rubbed some lotion into them and said, “Our manicurist isn’t here, or you could get a pedicure on the house.”

“You shouldn’t be so nice,” she warned. “When you see how vile my hair is, you might regret it.”

“Let’s go to the shampoo chair so I can assess the damage.”

Once she put on a smock and settled onto the chair, Evan pulled off her bandanna and said, “Nice braid job. Do it yourself?”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Noooo,” he drawled, sounding totally insincere, which made her smile.

“I’ve been on the road for a few days and haven’t had time to wash it.”

“I’ve seen armadillos who were on the road for a few days and looked livelier than this,” he teased. He made swift work of unbraiding her hair, then stood back and said, “Jeez. Who would have ever guessed all this was under your bandanna?”

“When it’s clean,” Jandy assured him, “it’s my best feature.”

“I believe you. Mercy. When it’s not wavy from braiding, it’s past your waist, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve seen this much red hair since my last drag show in Houston. Are you one of the Daughter of Godiva contestants? You won’t need a wig.”

She shook her head and said, “No. I’m just passing through and didn’t know about your festival until right before I got here.”

“Evan! Phone!” Phylura yelled. “It’s Grayson.”

“My better half,” Evan said with a happy smile. “I need to talk to him. I’ll be just a second.”

At least Evan left no doubt that he was gay. Sam could take a lesson in full disclosure from him.

She leaned back and let her hair fall into the deep sink behind her. Only then did she become aware that there was a TV suspended from the ceiling. It was tuned to Inside Hollywood, the most over-the-top of the celebrity gossip shows. Maybe because she actually knew a few semi-famous people, she couldn’t stand the sensational approach of those programs.

She sat up and looked for a remote, found it on a cart, and stared at it with exasperation. All the print was worn off the buttons. She pointed the remote toward the TV, but instead of changing the channel, she only managed to unmute it. By the time Evan returned, she’d given up trying to figure it out and was leaning back again.

He saturated her hair with warm water. She wrinkled her nose with pleasure at the shampoo’s scent.

“Chamomile and tea tree,” Evan said when she asked about it. “Your hair’s so heavy. Does it give you headaches?”

“Sometimes. It feels really good when you massage my scalp. You’re amazing.”

“I’ll bet you say that to all the guys,” he imitated her. “I used to have a client in Houston with hair like yours. She was an exotic dancer who came for massages and haircuts at the salon where I worked. She’d never let the shampoo people touch her hair. She said I was the only one who understood the effect of its weight on her scalp and neck.”

He held up her head with one hand, closing his other hand into a fist that he pressed into the muscles of her neck. She felt like she was floating, and it took a few seconds for the chirpy voice of the TV correspondent to penetrate her consciousness.

“…at April’s Daytime Emmys with fiancé Hudson Blake…”

Jandy pushed Evan’s hands away and said, “Can you turn off the water please, so I can hear this story?”

Within seconds, she forgot Evan and everything else as she stared at the TV with dismay. She’d seen the same footage of Hud walking with her down the red carpet many times. Hud hadn’t been nominated for an Emmy award, but Sweet Seasons had gotten several nominations. It was the first time the awards ceremony had been in L.A. instead of New York, and since Hud was a major part of one of Sweet Seasons’ most talked-about storylines, he’d been chosen to attend along with the show’s elite group of Daytime Emmy nominees.

She’d been a nervous wreck about the Emmys until Hud’s publicist, Chandra, told her about a resale shop on Melrose where she could find a designer dress for almost nothing. Because of her red hair, the salesperson had instead directed her toward a reproduction of a Rita Hayworth gown from the 1940s. The dress’s emerald beading had made her green eyes brilliant, and she’d left her curly hair down. She’d been confident that she was a presentable date for Hud until she saw his eyes. Then she knew she was a knockout. She felt like she was a star when she walked into the Kodak Theatre with him. It had been a wonderful night, and it was hard for her to reconcile her memory of it with the story the correspondent was telling.

“January Halli, sole heiress to the Halli real estate fortune, was last seen in a supermarket near her Silver Lake apartment. The police say there’s no evidence of foul play. Sources close to the couple refuse to confirm or deny that Miss Halli is the latest in an epidemic of runaway brides.”

“What?” Jandy squeaked at the television.

The footage switched from the correspondent to a video clip of Hud’s friend Sorel Eisen walking away from the camera with her hand out.

“No comment,” Sorel said. When the reporters began shouting questions at her, she dodged and went the other way, calling back, “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding that Jane will clear up. Can you imagine anyone running away from Hudson Blake? That’s nuts.”

“I don’t believe this,” Jandy muttered as the next clip showed her mother and stepfather standing outside their office, the sign for HALLI REAL ESTATE DEVELOPMENT prominently featured next to them. Her mother was wearing sunglasses and a grim expression.

“I don’t think the police are taking January’s disappearance seriously enough,” Carol Halli said. “Someone must know something. If you don’t want to contact the authorities, call us at Halli Real Estate. We’re offering a reward for any information that helps us find our daughter.” She then turned her face into her husband’s shoulder as if overcome by emotion.

“Oh, brother,” Jandy said. She struggled to sit up as the segment returned to the correspondent, who began giving out phone numbers for reporting any tips or leads. When Evan kept a firm grip on her shoulder, holding her down, she said, “I need to—”

“Just wait,” he warned in a low voice.

“But I’m not—”

“The TV near the hair dryers is on Inside Hollywood, too. Your long red hair is a dead giveaway. Let me wrap this towel around it before you get up, and my customers might not realize that they just saw you on TV. Directly behind you are stairs leading up to an apartment. You can have privacy up there. As soon as the shop’s empty, I’ll come up, and we’ll talk about how I can help you, okay?”

“But I don’t need help. I’m not a runaway bride.”

“Do you want to be recognized and gossiped about?”

She considered Evan’s words. Of course she didn’t want people gaping at her and thinking she was some kind of freak. This was all just a big misunderstanding that either she or Hud could clear up with a few phone calls. She was surprised his publicist hadn’t already taken care of it. Chandra knew they hadn’t called off the wedding, only postponed it. Why didn’t she just tell everyone that? How had the media gotten the idea that she was a runaway bride? Why did the media even care? At least Sorel had sort of stood up for her. Or maybe she’d done that for Hud, because none of his friends would want the world to think he’d been left at the altar.

And what on earth was her mother up to? Jandy knew even if her mother hadn’t listened to her voice mail, her secretary—Frida? No. Nelda—would have given her the message about the wedding rather than let her think foul play was involved. Since Chandra had taken on the arduous task of notifying everyone and canceling the ceremony, reception, and honeymoon, the only inconvenience her mother would suffer was deciding which business contacts she wanted to wine and dine on Friday and Saturday now that her schedule had opened up.

“This is insane,” Jandy said, sitting up as Evan tucked a towel around her wet hair. She reached for her purse and headed for the stairs while Evan walked in the opposite direction and asked who was next.