Gretchen could have died when the other women laughed.
“You shouldn’t take that from her,” said Joe when she told him about it. “After all you’ve done for her, she still acts like a spoiled brat. She’ll never grow up, and you shouldn’t put up with it.”
“What am I supposed to do?” said Gretchen. “If I talk back, she could fire me.”
“So? Let her fire you. I’m making decent money now. You have your quilt teaching. We’ll get by.”
But Gretchen, who balanced the family checkbook, knew that the wages she received from Heidi often made the difference between ending the week in the black or in the red.
Gretchen celebrated her fiftieth birthday by splurging on an airline ticket to Houston to attend the International Quilt Festival. She had never seen so many glorious quilts in one setting—and even more thrilling was the sense of being surrounded by other women as passionate about quilts and quilting as she was. She took classes with some of the brightest stars in the quilting world, attended lectures, struggled to stick to her budget in the merchants’ mall, and enjoyed many spontaneous conversations with quilt lovers from around the country.
One seminar in particular, “From Quilt Lover to Quilt Shop Owner,” resonated so strongly with her that she reread her notes every evening after she returned to her hotel room, footsore and exhausted but brimming with inspiration for new quilts. Joe was the only person who knew that the prospect of attending this seminar was what had convinced her to come to Houston. For the past year they had examined their finances, studied their budget, investigated local average rents, and planned, and hoped. Joe wanted her to find an alternative to working for Heidi; Gretchen longed to fulfill a fond wish to earn a living doing what she loved best.
On Gretchen’s first night home, she and Joe stayed up late into the night discussing their options, papers covered in notes and figures spread across the kitchen table. Shortly after one in the morning they concluded that they could do it. Gretchen could run a quilt shop, and considering how many quilters lived on their side of the river, how many new quilters joined their ranks every year, and how under served their area was, it could be a very successful quilt shop.
One significant obstacle stood in the way: the enormous up-front expenses necessary just to open the shop doors. She could purchase some inventory on credit, but she would still have to pay for remodeling, advertising, wages, insurance—the list went on much too long for their savings. Gretchen would have to apply for a business loan.
“It should be a piece of cake,” Joe assured her. They had no outstanding debts except for their mortgage, but their monthly payments were reasonable and they would have it paid off in another eight years.
Gretchen first applied at the bank where she and Joe had held accounts since they married. They had been very good clients, never bounced a check, rarely dipped below the minimum balance, so Gretchen was crushed and bewildered when the bank turned down her application. “I don’t understand,” she said to the loan officer. “We have good credit.”
“You have satisfactory credit,” the younger man said, nodding, though he had not really agreed with her. “But you don’t have a business credit record. Once you have that established, we will gladly reconsider your case.”
Gretchen thanked him and left without explaining that until she opened her quilt shop, she would not be able to establish a business credit record. Until she had the loan, she could not open her quilt shop. Joe had never sought a loan for his woodworking, so she doubted he had much business credit, either, so he could not take out the loan on her behalf.
She applied elsewhere, was rejected and tried again, until every bank in Ambridge, Sewickley, and Coraopolis had turned her away. When her last application met with refusal, she tearfully broke the bad news to Joe. He tried to comfort her as she finally admitted defeat. “It was a foolish dream,” she said. “I never should have allowed myself to get my hopes up.”
“What kind of talk is that?” protested Joe. “What happened to the housekeeper’s daughter who paid her way through college to become a teacher? What happened to the girl who told a husband with a broken back that he could walk again if he didn’t quit?”
She grew up, Gretchen thought. She grew up and wised up and learned that life doesn’t always reward persistence. But she hated to disappoint Joe. “I suppose I could apply to a bank in Pittsburgh,” she said, though she had assumed a smaller, hometown bank would be more amenable.
“We could take a second mortgage.”
“No, Joe,” said Gretchen. “Absolutely not. I won’t do it. I won’t risk our home, not even for this. No matter how well I’ve planned, the shop might fail. There’s always that chance.”
He knew better than to argue when she got that tone in her voice, but his brow furrowed and he regarded her with fond sympathy. “If that’s what you told the loan officers, no wonder they turned you down.”
Joe’s encouragement strengthened Gretchen’s resolve, but she knew she would run headlong into the same problem at any other bank she tried. If she were ever to make her dream a reality, she had to swallow her pride and seek help from the one person to whom she did not want to become further indebted.
The following Saturday, she lingered after collecting her paycheck and asked Heidi if she had a moment. Seated in the parlor she had dusted so many times, Gretchen outlined her plans for opening a quilt shop in Ambridge. She gave Heidi a copy of her business plan and explained the problems she had encountered trying to secure a small business loan.
“I just don’t know, Gretchen,” said Heidi. “I agree this could be a marvelous business opportunity—and a potentially lucrative investment—but I’m leery about lending such a large sum to a friend. Money quarrels can destroy a friendship.”
“We won’t have any reason to quarrel,” Gretchen assured her. “We’ll have everything in writing, in a contract just as if the loan was made through a bank. I’ll pay the going interest rate, of course.”
“Of course,” echoed Heidi. “I’ll need to think about it and talk to my husband. Do you need an answer right away?”
“No,” said Gretchen, although she had hoped for one. “Take whatever time you need.”
They shook on it, and Gretchen left feeling hopeful and just the tiniest bit anxious. Heidi’s husband was tightfisted and suspicious. He was likely to complain even though the money for the loan would come from Heidi’s trust fund, a bequest from her grandmother that was, according to Heidi, none of his concern.
A few days later at the meeting of the Wednesday Night Stitchers, Heidi behaved normally, as if unaware that Gretchen’s future happiness rested on her decision. Gretchen waited all evening for her to mention the loan, unwilling to seem like a nag by bringing it up herself. On Saturday morning, she could wait no longer and had barely closed the back door behind her when she asked Heidi if she had discussed the loan with her husband.
“He’s still looking over a few details,” replied Heidi. “I’ll have some news for you in a few days.”
Her smile meant to encourage, but Gretchen felt faint with nervousness. It was unlike Heidi to need an entire week to convince Chad to agree to something she was determined to do. Was he balking at a flaw in her business plan? Was Heidi herself uncertain if she should help Gretchen? The waiting and the worry troubled her sleep and made her short-tempered with Joe, until she almost wished she had consulted every last bank in Pennsylvania before approaching Heidi.
At last, on Wednesday evening, Heidi began the new business portion of the guild meeting by declaring that she was about to make a very important announcement. Although she only glanced at Gretchen, seated in the back, Gretchen knew at once that the answer to her request was forthcoming. Not even Heidi would decline a friend’s request for a loan so publicly, so Gretchen straightened in her chair, heart pounding as if it would burst with happiness. In the moment Heidi paused to allow the murmurs of expectation to build, Gretchen envisioned the Stitchers’ response to the go
od news: their exclamations of delight, their congratulatory embraces, their promises to become her shop’s bset customers. She was still lost in a joyful reverie when Heidi announced that she intended to open a quilt shop in downtown Sewickley by summer and hoped they would all turn out for the grand opening.
Gretchen sat stunned in her chair while her friends showered Heidi with applause and the exact good wishes she had imagined for herself. Heidi needed a good five minutes to quiet them so she could proceed with the meeting. Not once did she look Gretchen’s way.
Gretchen left the meeting at the social break without speaking to anyone.
Joe was furious. “She stole your business plan,” he thundered. “She took all your ideas, all our research, and kept them for herself. She can’t be allowed to get away with this.”
But Gretchen did not know what to do. Had Heidi broken any laws? Without a doubt, what she had done was sneaky and underhanded—unethical, yes, but illegal? Heartsick, Gretchen could not even begin to pursue that question. She hardly saw the point. Even if she obtained a loan elsewhere, she could not open a quilt shop in Ambridge with Heidi’s shop practically next door in Sewickley, not if she expected it to succeed. And Heidi would have known that.
Gretchen dreaded Saturday morning. For the first time in her life, she deliberately arrived late to work, hoping Heidi would have already left for a tennis lesson or board meeting or garden society brunch. Unfortunately, Heidi was waiting for her just inside the back door. “We should talk,” she said before Gretchen was out of her coat.
“All right.” Gretchen set down her purse and regarded Heidi evenly. She felt strangely calm. “Let’s talk about how you pretended to consider my request for a loan to distract me while you stole my idea.”
“How could you say such a thing?” exclaimed Heidi. “That’s not what happened.”
Gretchen stared at her, amazed. Did Heidi really believe she could bluff her way out of it? “I showed you my business plan and the next thing I know, you’re opening a quilt shop.”
“That’s not fair. I didn’t follow your plan. For one thing, my quilt shop will be in Sewickley, not Ambridge. I admit the timing is unfortunate, but I’ve been planning this for a long time. You don’t really think I could have set everything in motion in one week, do you?”
It had been a week and a half between Gretchen’s request and the announcement at the guild meeting, a more than sufficient amount of time for someone with Heidi’s connections. “I hardly know what to believe. If you were already planning to open a quilt shop, why didn’t you tell me when I asked for the loan?”
“I can explain.” Heidi sank into a chair at the kitchen table and gestured for Gretchen to sit. “I’ve wanted to run my own company for years. You know that. You’ve heard me talk about it.”
Gretchen shrugged and sat down, reluctantly. Heidi had mentioned an interior decorating service, a wedding planning service, and a myriad of other businesses throughout the years, but she had never seemed serious about any of them.
“When I first mentioned a quilt shop to Chad, he dismissed it just as he had all my other ideas.” A frown of annoyance briefly cut Heidi’s face and disappeared. “Worse, he thought it was silly and frivolous, a waste of my time. So when you asked for the loan, I did seriously consider it. I thought that if I couldn’t have a shop of my own, investing in yours would be the next best thing. You did write up an excellent plan. It was very professional.”
“Joe helped a lot,” said Gretchen quietly.
“A lot of credit goes to you both, then, because when I showed Chad everything you had presented to me, he realized that there was much more to ‘this quilting thing’ than he had thought. All I wanted was for him to agree to the loan, but instead he told me I should go ahead with my original plan to open my own shop.”
Gretchen studied her for a moment. Heidi’s expression was so open and guileless, her clear blue eyes pleading for understanding and forgiveness. “You never mentioned wanting to run a quilt shop.” “Of course not! No one pays any attention to my career plans anymore. Who can blame them? I’ve thrown out so many ideas and haven’t stuck with any of them.”
Gretchen wondered why Heidi seemed so convinced that this time would be any different. She did not know what to say. How could she convey to Heidi her disappointment, her sense of loss?
Could she persuade Heidi to step aside, forget her own shop and grant the loan for Gretchen’s dream instead?
Heidi broke the silence. “You know, you could still get a bank loan and open your own quilt shop.”
Gretchen knew Heidi was wrong on at least two counts, but she was too frustrated and defeated to argue. She shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” said Heidi, reaching for her hand. “But in a way, I’m glad you won’t be setting up a competing shop. I had hoped you would come and work for me.”
Gretchen yanked her hand free. “You have a lot of nerve.”
“Gretchen—”
Standing, Gretchen waved her to silence. “Don’t. I can’t talk about this anymore. I have work to do.”
She left the kitchen with Heidi staring after her in astonishment.
Quilts ’n Things opened three months later. Lingering doubts about the truth of Heidi’s explanation kept Gretchen away for the first two weeks, but eventually her curiosity overcame her resistance. Heidi greeted her excitedly, bounding over to her from behind the cash register and giving her an impulsive and entirely unexpected hug. “I’m so glad you came,” she said. “I wanted your opinion so many times, but—” She shrugged. “You know.”
Gretchen nodded, taking in the scene. “Congratulations,” she said, more impressed than she cared to admit. The former shoe store had been decorated to resemble a country farmhouse, with bolts of brightly colored fabric arranged in antique armoires and pie cupboards. In the center of the room, an old kitchen table had been transformed into a cutting table. A partial wall that resembled the entrance to a one-room schoolhouse separated the back of the room from the main sales floor; through the doorway, Gretchen spied several rows of wooden desks and a blackboard hanging on the wall. Everywhere she looked, Gretchen found enticing displays of the latest fabrics, notions, patterns, and products to satisfy any quilter’s heart’s desire.
Heidi regarded her expectantly. “What do you think?”
“It’s wonderful,” said Gretchen. Even when she had envisioned her own quilt shop, she had not imagined anything so warm and enchanting. It was the kind of shop in which she could gladly spend an entire day and half a paycheck. “I’m sure it will be an enormous success.”
“I’m so glad you feel that way.” Heidi took her hand and led her to a small office tucked away in a back room, all but invisible from the shop floor. “I’m sure you noticed my classroom space. I would like you to be my first teacher.”
“I don’t know …”
“Not just a teacher. A partner.” Heidi indicated a sprawl of paperwork on the desk. “I haven’t forgotten your business plan. I know you have some capital. You asked me to invest in your shop, and now I’m asking you to invest in mine.”
Gretchen felt a small glimmering of hope. “I would be a partner?”
“A junior partner, but still, part owner. We would run this place together.” Heidi squared her shoulders as if to summon up an inner reservoir of resolve. “All right. You’re forcing me to do something I know I’m going to regret. You’re fired.”
“What?”
“You’re fired. As my cleaning lady. Now that you’re unemployed, I’d like to rehire you as my quilting instructor and junior partner.” Heidi placed a sheaf of papers in Gretchen’s hands. “Here’s a contract. You’ll have two weeks of vacation each year and a health care plan. Including dental.”
Through Chad’s insurance company, no doubt, with a high deductible. But still … “Why?” she asked. Heidi knew many other perfectly capable quilting instructors. Was this her admission of guilt? Her apology? Nothing Heidi did could compensate for st
ealing Gretchen’s dream, intentional or not.
“I need you,” said Heidi in a small voice.
Gretchen was about to retort that nothing she had seen that day gave her that impression, but something in the younger woman’s expression stopped her short. It was the look of the little girl she had tutored, the one who wanted to dress like her and be a teacher like her, the little girl who had wanted so badly to be loved and admired.
“You don’t need me,” said Gretchen. Heidi didn’t, not really. “But … I think I would like to work here.”
Heidi beamed.
Over the years, as the junior partner of Quilts ’n Things, Gretchen was able to accomplish everything she had hoped to as owner of her own shop. She loved every part of her day, from opening the cozy shop in the morning to selecting stock, helping customers, making sample quilts to display on the walls above the fabric bolts, and teaching, especially when she introduced new quilters to the craft. She still cleaned up Heidi’s messes, but she would rather sweep up thread and put away fabric bolts than scrub bathrooms. She had come to appreciate Heidi’s creative imagination, which not only manifested itself in her quilt designs, but also in the way she ran the shop. She would hold spontaneous one-day sales that had the store packed with shoppers from the time they unlocked the doors in the morning until long after their usual closing hour. She would throw parties based upon the silliest themes—“Three Months Until Christmas Day” or “Fabric Appreciation Week”—to the delight of their customers, who willingly seized upon any excuse to buy more fabric. She held an annual quilt show in the store where customers could vote for the Ugliest Quilt of All Time. Gretchen was appalled when Heidi first announced the contest, and she could not believe that anyone would humiliate herself by putting her name to any quilt entitled to that dubious honor. But ten brave souls entered that first year, and the winner was crowned while wearing a paper bag over her head. She had to be led by the hand to the front of the store to receive her prize, a basket of fat quarters and a gift certificate to one session of classes at the shop. Every year the contest grew, the entries becoming ever more abominable, until Heidi had to put her foot down and exclude any quilts that were deliberately made badly, so that only the truly and unintentionally awful would be considered for the grand prize.
Elm Creek Quilts [09] Circle of Quilters Page 25