A Single Thread (Cobbled Court)

by Marie Bostwick

  “If you think about it, that’s a pretty good day’s work: more than most people accomplish in a lifetime. And you were all part of it. Even knowing how it was going to turn out, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. But only if I got to do it with all of you by my side.”

  Now the tears began to flow in earnest for everyone except Abigail and Garrett, who had his arm around the shoulders of a sniffling Liza and was trying to comfort her.

  “It’s not fair!” Liza said. “You’ve been up against so much and you worked so hard. We all did. It isn’t as if people don’t like the shop. Yesterday I waited on a lady who was buying fabric to make a quilt for her daughter’s wedding, and she was so excited. She said she’d never have had the courage to try it if she hadn’t taken your class. Your customers love Cobbled Court Quilts—and you.”

  Margot pulled a tissue out of the pocket of her skirt and used it to wipe her nose. “And we were making progress on the financial side too. Every month was a little better than the last, and every month we added to our customer base. If we’d had another year, two at the outside, I think we could have made it. Liza’s right. It isn’t fair.”

  I patted Margot’s arm. “I know. After Quilt Pink, I thought we might make it to the tourist season. Maybe, if I hadn’t gotten sick and could have taught more classes over the winter, we’d have been able to squeak by. Who knows? But it just didn’t work out that way. It’s no one’s fault. There are some things we just don’t have control over.”

  Abigail, who had been listening to this exchange with dry eyes and furrowed brow, spoke up. “Do you really believe that?”

  “What? That there are things we don’t have control over? Of course I do.”

  “I don’t,” she said flatly. “I mean, of course you don’t have control over things like flood, fire, famine, or breast cancer—things like that. But this isn’t like that. If you close the shop now, it’ll be because you gave up.”

  In the face of this pronouncement, Margot looked shocked and Liza looked insulted—and me? I guess I was a little of each.

  “Abigail! How can you say that? After all that we’ve done? There isn’t a promotion or project we haven’t tried! We worked our fingers to the bone and did everything we knew how to do to increase our customer base.”

  “I know,” Abigail said, “and it was working. Margot just said it was. So, given that, I just don’t understand why you’re going to throw in the towel and walk away.”

  “Because I’m out of money, time, and ideas—that’s why!”

  Abigail made a face. “Ridiculous! Preposterous! Money is one of the few commodities that, in a sense, is nearly infinite; you may not always have more, but you can always get more. Money is easy. Time is tougher. I’ll admit, we don’t always have control over how much time we’ve got, but, now that you’re recovered from your surgery, it looks like there’s every reason to believe that you have plenty of years ahead of you. And as far as ideas,” she said brightly, looking around at the assemblage, “has anybody got one?”

  For a moment everyone looked at everyone else, waiting to see if someone was going to speak. Finally Garrett raised his hand, slowly and cautiously, like a schoolboy asking for permission to go to the restroom in the middle of a math test. “Actually, I have been playing around with an idea.”

  “Well, go on,” Abigail said. “Let’s hear it.”

  Garrett cleared his throat. “All right. I’ve been looking over the books too, and I’d noticed that, even with the very basic kind of Web site that Margot put together—no offense, Margot.”

  “None taken.”

  “Even with a simple site and no real marketing to promote it, Web sales are the most rapidly growing segment of our business. And do you know what our best-selling items are? The charm packs and fabric medleys that Liza created, especially that chocolate brown and turquoise collection. Customers just love the way she puts colors together.”

  Liza beamed at the compliment, and Garrett winked at her before going on. “The problem is this: New Bern is a great little town, but it’s a little town. Even if you could turn every woman and some of the men in town into avid quilters, you still wouldn’t generate enough in-store sales to make more than a small profit. The population is just too small to support a really thriving quilt store.”

  I nodded. It was true. I’d known that from the first, but somehow I’d hoped to attract just enough customers from the surrounding area to keep my head above water. I’d never been looking to get rich, just to survive financially while making my vision of a quilting community a reality.

  “We’ve got to think big,” Garrett said, his voice growing stronger now that he realized everyone was tracking with him. “There are lots of quilters who don’t have access to a local quilt store. If we had a truly first-class Web site, with an extensive online catalog, an inventory that is second to none, where people from all over the country and even the world would be able to find any kind of fabric, pattern, kit, or notion they could possibly imagine and have it sent to them quickly, plus unique features that would make our site stand out, I think we could make it. In fact, I think we could do better than that. I think we could make Cobbled Court Quilts into the biggest, most recognized name in quilting.”

  He said it with such conviction that I wanted to believe him. I think everyone did, but I still had a lot of questions. “But all that would take money and staff…”

  “And space,” Garrett confirmed. “We’d need warehouse space to house the additional inventory and to give us a place to coordinate order fulfillment.”

  “Well, where are we supposed to get all that?”

  “Mom, I’ve got money saved. A lot—sixty thousand dollars.”

  My jaw dropped. “Sixty thousand? I…I had no idea.”

  Garrett grinned. “I told you, I was way overpaid at Claremont Solutions as well as way overworked. I never had a chance to get out of the office and buy anything, so it all went into the bank. I’ve been looking for a good investment, and I think this is it.”

  “Garrett,” I protested, “you’re the best son on earth, but what if you’re wrong? What if you lose everything you’ve saved?”

  “I’m young.” He shrugged. “If I lose it, I’ve got time to make more. Like Abigail says, you can always make more. Besides, experienced computer programmers are always in demand. If I had to, I could get another cubicle job tomorrow, probably making more than I was before. But I’d rather work for you at a vastly reduced salary doing something much more exciting, something I really believe in.”

  “Me too!” Margot piped in. “You’re going to need a marketing manager for all this. I happen to be available, and if I don’t have to live in a ridiculously overpriced apartment in New York, which I’d rather not anyway, I can work cheap. But, of course, we’ll need entry-level people to help with stocking, and mailing, and waiting on customers.”

  “There are at least a dozen women—smart, capable women who’ve never been given a chance—at the shelter right now who’d jump at the chance to work here,” Abigail announced. “All I have to do is make a few calls and you’d have all the workers you need.”

  I laughed and held up my hands. As much as I wanted it to be true, I was finding it hard to keep up with everything I was hearing. “Slow down! We’ve got to sit down and think this through. Everything is happening so fast. I can’t believe this is as easy as you’re making it sound.”

  Garrett shook his head. “Oh no. Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing easy about this. I’ve crunched the numbers, and, in addition to my sixty, we’ll need another fifty thousand dollars just to get started. Seventy would be better. And we still need warehouse space. If we can’t find an inexpensive space, that would mean we’d need even more capital. I’m not sure where we can find that kind of money.”

  Abigail stepped forward, about to speak, but a voice from the stairs interrupted her. I turned and saw Rob, Franklin, and Wendy standing on the stairs, listening. I wasn’t sure how long th
ey’d been there.

  “I’ve got some money put away,” Rob said quietly. “In my retirement fund. Fifty thousand dollars. If you need it, Evie, it’s yours. I’d like to help you.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. Before I could speak, Abigail put in her two cents. “And I’m sure we can find you some cheap warehouse space. Franklin, who do we know that owns warehouses in New Bern?”

  “You do. Several. You’ve got a big, vacant space less than three blocks from here.”

  Abigail looked surprised. “I do? I knew we’d bought some real estate, but I thought it was all in Florida. Shopping malls or something.”

  “Abigail,” Franklin sighed with exasperation, “I don’t know why you even bother coming to our monthly business meetings. Every month we go out, we have lunch, and I talk while you pick at your food and chat with everyone who drops by the table. Why should I waste my time trying to keep you informed about your affairs? You never pay the slightest attention.”

  Abigail smiled, clearly enjoying getting under Franklin’s skin. “Franklin. Darling,” she purred. “You do such a good job managing everything that I don’t have to pay attention. I only show up at those meetings to make sure you get out of the office now and then.”

  Franklin growled a little and went on. “Yes, Abigail, you do own property in Florida, but you also own a good bit of the commercial real estate in New Bern. As a matter of fact, you own this building.”

  “I do? Evelyn is paying me rent? How much?” Uncomfortable about revealing this information publicly, Franklin crossed the room and whispered into Abigail’s ear.

  “That much? For this old wreck? My, Franklin, you are good at managing my affairs! No one but you would have dared to ask that kind of rent for this building and then gotten it. But I’ve got a better idea. I’d like to rent this space and the warehouse you’d mentioned to Evelyn for a more reasonable rent. Let’s say ten dollars a month for both properties.”

  “Abigail!” I gasped. “That’s too much!”

  “Too much? Well, all right then. You drive a hard bargain. Five dollars a month. “

  “No! You know I didn’t mean it was too expensive. I mean it’s too generous! You’re too generous. I can’t let you do it.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she scoffed. “I’ve got more money than I can spend in a lifetime—in two lifetimes. I don’t need a few more dollars in rent money, but I do need friends. If Cobbled Court closes, what will happen to our quilt circle? It’ll break up, that’s what. And then what will I do with myself? Go back to attending dull cocktail parties and even duller board meetings for a bunch of organizations I never really cared about to begin with? No, thank you. Believe me; this isn’t generosity on my part, Evelyn. It’s self-preservation.”

  I shook my head. It was too much to accept, and I was not going to be swayed by glib argument. “No, Abigail. I won’t let you do it. If my business is going to occupy property that you own, then I’m going to have to pay a fair price. Just like anyone else.”

  “Lord, you’re stubborn! All right. Fine. You want to pay me? Then let’s do it the old-fashioned way. Let’s barter. You can pay your rent in goods and services instead of money.”

  “I don’t understand. What could I possibly have that you’d want?”

  “Your time. I’d like you to go over to the shelter every other week and give free quilting classes to the residents.”

  “Every week,” I countered.

  Abigail gave a quick nod to indicate her acceptance of my terms. “And the Wynne Foundation will pay for all the fabrics and materials for your classes,” she rejoined.

  “Which Cobbled Court will supply at cost.”

  Abigail scowled. For a woman who claimed not to have a head for business, she was a tough negotiator, but so was I. And I wasn’t going to budge.

  “I mean it, Abigail. Either you let me supply the materials at cost or I won’t do it. Have we got a deal?”

  She hesitated a moment and, seeing my resolve, sighed before clasping my outstretched hand. “We do.”

  34

  Abigail Burgess Wynne

  I’d forgotten my umbrella at home. Thankfully, the rain was now a steady drizzle instead of the downpour of earlier in the evening.

  And though I’d assured him that there was very little chance of my getting lost or being accosted in the five blocks that lay between the quilt shop and my house, Franklin insisted on walking me home. He was in a talkative mood.

  “It was a nice party,” he said. “And Evelyn looked well. It’s wonderful that she’s not going to need any chemotherapy.”

  “Yes,” I said and pulled the collar of my jacket up.

  “And Garrett’s idea for expanding the business—if it works out the way he envisions, it could change New Bern for the better, bring in all kinds of new jobs. He’s a very bright young man. Between Evelyn’s creativity and understanding of quilting, Garrett’s vision and knowledge of e-commerce, and Margot’s marketing savvy, I think they just might pull this off. Amazing that all the right people would be in the right place at the right time.” Franklin coughed and glanced at me from under the brim of his gray felt hat. “And, of course, it helps that they have a fairy godmother who happens to have an interest in real estate, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Hmmm? Oh yes. I guess it is kind of an amazing coincidence.”

  “Nothing coincidental about it. Some things are meant to be.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “What’s wrong, Abbie? Are you still worried about Evelyn?”

  I bit my lip, thinking how selfish I would sound if I told him the truth, but I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. I had to talk to someone. I stopped on the sidewalk and turned to face Franklin.

  “It’s Liza,” I admitted. “I know it’s the right thing, her going back to school. I want her to be happy, but the thought of returning to my old, lonely life is awful beyond imagining. I’m going to miss her so much that it hurts even to think about it. What am I going to do?”

  Franklin paused for a long moment before speaking, and when he did, his voice sounded strange, soft and oddly hesitant.

  “Yes. Well. I’ve got some ideas on that subject,” he said. He didn’t look at me, just kept his eyes focused down at the pavement. He cleared his throat. “The thing is, Abbie, that…well, you and I have been friends for a long time. At least, that’s how I’ve always thought of us….”

  I nodded. “Until this year, I don’t think I had any friends other than you, Franklin. But you’re still my best friend. I guess you always have been. I just didn’t realize it until recently.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it. I feel the same. As you know, over the years, I’ve overseen the creation of scores of successful business partnerships, as well as the dissolution of scores of unsuccessful ones. And in my opinion, the best partnerships, the ones that last, are always founded on a basis of mutual admiration and respect.” He looked at me, as if waiting for me to add something, but I wasn’t sure what he expected me to say.

  “Yes. I suppose you’re right.”

  He smiled broadly, apparently relieved that I agreed with his point—whatever his point was. “Good! Right! That’s why I’ve been thinking that you and I…well…We respect and admire each other, and, in the last year, I have to say I’ve come to admire you more than ever before.” He reached out, took the hem of my sleeve and held it gently between his thumb and forefinger and didn’t let go, a soft-mouthed retriever intent on carrying home his quarry without leaving a mark.

  “I’ve always…admired you, but you were so determined not to let anyone get close. You’re different now. This business with Liza, and with your friends, Margot and Evelyn, has changed you, and for the better.

  “Tonight, when you told Evelyn you were going to let her have the shop and the warehouse practically rent-free—and then topped it off by figuring out a way she could save face while doing something that would benefit the women at the shelter?” He laughed. “I�
�ve always admired you, Abbie, but never quite as much as tonight. You were always generous with your checkbook, but only because it enhanced your public image while keeping you at a safe distance from any real human suffering. Now there are no caveats, no buts, no conditions. You’re generous. End of story. Not only that, you’re more open with your feelings, more willing to take risks.”

  I shrugged, not sure what to say to all this. But he was right, something had changed me. Or somebody. Uninvited and unwanted, Liza, Evelyn, and Margot had barged into my life and turned it upside down. Thank God.

  “And that,” Franklin continued, resuming his normal tone of voice, “is another requirement for a successful partnership, an openness to risk on the part of the parties involved. And I, for my part, am open to the possibility of risk. Therefore…I was wondering if you…”

  He paused, shifting from one foot to another as if he had a pebble in his shoe. He coughed, and I saw some color rising in his cheeks. I looked at him, wondering if he wasn’t coming down with a cold and thinking that standing here in the rain couldn’t be good for him if he was, but then his meaning began to dawn on me. I was astounded.

  “Franklin!” I exclaimed. “Is this a proposal?”

  His eyes flew open wide, and he swallowed hard. “Why? Does it sound like one?”

  “Well. Sort of. Not quite.” The more I said, the sillier I felt. His shocked response to my question made me think I’d been mistaken, but at the risk of making a complete fool of myself, I decided I’d better make my position clear.

  “Franklin, I can only assume that in some obtuse, lawyerly way, you’re trying to say that you think we might want to, as the young people would say, ‘take our relationship to the next level.’ Is that right?”

  Franklin nodded mutely.

  “I see. Well. If you were asking me to marry you, I guess I’d say that, even though we’ve known each other for thirty years, this all seems a bit sudden. But if you weren’t proposing, then I’m wondering what you did have in mind. Maybe it’s old-fashioned, but I’ve learned the hard way that rushing into…” I waited for him to fill in the blank, but he just looked at me. I pressed on, embarrassed by what I was about to say and slightly irritated at Franklin for forcing me to say it. “Rushing into any kind of…intimate relationship…before cementing that relationship in law is a mistake. So if that’s what you were thinking, you can just put it out of your mind right now!”