Please Come to Boston for the Springtime

By Boston I mean Carrillon Point. Obviously. This is my "Put me in, coach!" assignment. Also my character is the opposite of me and woud probably bug the crap out of me in real life. Fortunately, this class is about fiction.

Macy Jones was, and always had been, a Houston girl. Not from one of its myriad suburbs, but a girl straight out of the big city itself. The gulf was the only water she'd ever known and she saw no reason to leave. Some people go out searching for adventure, she'd say, but she knew her place and she'd found contentment right in her hometown. Macy only let the boundaries of the city for the occasional convention for work or a visit with an old acquaintance--and even then she only went a couple miles out.

However, Macy could find no legitimate reasonto avoid her sister Laura's wedding in Carrillon Point, Massachusetts, and even a big Texas family knows better than to skip a wedding. Never having been a fan of tight quarters, Macy made the 2000 mile trip in her '06 civic instead of a plane, stopping only for gas and the occasional hot dog stand. Three days and 500 dollars later, Macy found herself in the smallest, most uptight town she'd ever seen. Nobody walked around Carrillon Point in sweatpants, the bride-to-be pointed out when Macy got out of the car. Yes, Macy had noticed. For Laura's information, she did not drive in skirts or even designer jeans. Laura rolled her eyes and asked if her lip gloss was a tad too dark for the occasion. There was a reason Macy had not visited her little sister once in the nine years they'd been apart, and that about summed it up.

The next few days passed in a blur of stale congratulations and hair spray complications, and by the end of the week Macy was entirely ready to leave. She checked out of the Rosebush Inn on Thursday around noon only to find her car totaled in the parking lot...