The Giving Quilt (9 page)

Ray urged her not to second-guess the guild's decision and to simply enjoy this wonderful reward for her hard work and talent, but it was nearly impossible to do so. In her first few months as a Cherokee Rose Quilter, Pauline found herself studying the other guild members for any sign that she was not truly wanted. Jeanette was obviously thrilled that she had joined the guild, and most of the other members were friendly, warm, and welcoming in various degrees depending upon their personalities, but one quilter stood apart, aloof, no matter how often Pauline tried to engage her in conversation. While all the other members of the guild had introduced themselves to Pauline at the party, Brenda Hughley had not. As the evening wound down and Pauline realized that she had made the acquaintance of all of the Cherokee Rose Quilters save one, she quickly put together two small plates with an assortment of treats from the dessert table and carried them over to the corner where Brenda stood, sipping a glass of sparkling water with lime.

“Hi.” Pauline greeted her brightly, holding out one of the plates. “I noticed that you're the only one without dessert, so I brought you a little sampler before everything's gone.”

Tall and lanky, with sandy blond hair cut boyishly short and angular features, Brenda waved the plate away. “Oh, no, thank you. I don't eat that sort of thing.”

“Not even at a party?” Pauline set the extra plate on a nearby table, wishing she had chosen the fruit salad instead of cookies and brownies. “I guess I should have known, with a figure like yours.”

“I do Pilates.” Brenda glanced past Pauline's shoulder and nodded to someone behind her. “And I don't put junk in my body.”

Pauline laughed weakly and set down her own plate, piled embarrassingly high with decadent goodness, next to the one she had prepared for Brenda. “I should follow your example.”

“Oh, go ahead.” Brenda waved a hand toward the plate. “Indulge. Why not, in your case?”

Pauline wasn't sure what Brenda meant and she didn't want to ask. “So, have you decided what class you're going to teach at the retreat?”

“Oh, I never teach unless I'm paid for it.” Brenda sipped her sparkling water. “Besides, teaching would take away too much time from my quilting.”

“The other Cherokee Rose Quilters seem to manage both just fine,” Pauline remarked, immediately regretting it when Brenda's slight frown told her it was the wrong thing to say. “I guess you're probably busy with other things. Which committee are you in charge of?”

Brenda shook her head and shifted her weight. “None of them. I'm much too busy.”

“Oh, I didn't realize you were one of the officers.”

“I'm not, but that doesn't mean I'm not busy.” Without meeting her gaze, Brenda edged away. “If you'll excuse me.”

Puzzled, Pauline watched her go, feeling slighted and more than a little foolish. She picked up her dessert plate, nibbled a mocha brownie, and wished she had made a better first impression. She would make up for it later, she decided, taking both plates in hand and dumping them discreetly into the wastebasket.

But in the weeks that followed, that proved easier said than done. Brenda never smiled when Pauline greeted her at the start of a monthly meeting, nor did she reply with anything more than a nod when Pauline bade her good-bye afterward. When the group discussed upcoming plans and projects, Brenda usually acknowledged Pauline's suggestions with a shrug and a muffled sigh before asking if anyone else had any
good
ideas.

“She doesn't like me,” Pauline told Ray. “I don't know why, but she doesn't.”

Ray's brow furrowed in puzzlement as if he couldn't imagine how anyone wouldn't adore his wife as much as he did. “How does she treat everyone else?”

Pauline mulled it over. “She seems to get along fine with the others. Not that she's ever the most outgoing or bubbly person, but she at least talks to them.”

“Maybe she's shy,” Ray suggested. “Maybe once she gets to know you, she'll talk to you more.”

Considering how forcefully Brenda voiced her opinions at the Cherokee Rose Quilters' roundtable discussions, Pauline doubted shyness was the problem. “I think I offended her at the initiation party,” she reluctantly admitted. “I was just chatting, you know, asking questions like you do when you're trying to get to know someone, but maybe she thought I was criticizing her.”

“Criticizing her how?”

“By implying she doesn't do enough for the guild. She doesn't teach at the retreats, she's not in charge of any committees, and she's not an officer.” Pauline was struck by a sudden thought. “You know, I can't help wondering why she doesn't play a more significant role in the guild. Everyone else does. I've been a member for only a few months and I'm already leading the publicity committee and serving on two others.”

“Well, sugar, giving doesn't come naturally to everyone.”

“But the whole point of the guild is to give—our time, our labor, our expertise, our encouragement—to support the art and heritage of quilting throughout the state of Georgia.”

“And you get a lot in return,” said Ray. “Satisfaction in a job well done, good times with your friends, development of your own artistic talents, and not a small amount of fame and glory.”

“Not to mention an annual free vacation at the Château Élan.” Could Brenda have become a Cherokee Rose Quilter not because she wanted to give of her time and talents to support the guild's mission, but because of the fringe benefits—the admiration of other quilters impressed by her membership in such an exclusive group, the gratitude of the people served by the charities the guild supported, the development of her own artistic talents through guild critiques and workshops?

Pauline didn't want to believe it. “She can't be in it just for herself. She does participate, just maybe not as much as everyone else.”

Ray frowned dubiously. “If you say so, sugar. I've never met the woman.”

“I've known her for months and I can't figure her out either.” Pauline sighed. “If I did offend her, I wish she'd just tell me so I could make it right.”

But although Pauline tried and tried again to befriend Brenda, she remained as aloof as ever. Brenda did speak to her when they were obliged to work on projects together, but although she chatted about her job and family with veteran guild members, with Pauline she was strictly business.

Bemused, Pauline found reassurance in the friendships she had struck up with the other guild members, some of whom became as close to her as Jeanette. They admired her quilting, and their amazing talents inspired her to reach even greater heights. They seemed to appreciate her dedication to the guild and the energy she brought to their charitable works. Before long she felt perfectly at home in the guild she had once admired from a distance—comfortable with everyone except Brenda.

“Would you want to be friends with Brenda if you weren't members of the same quilt guild?” Ray asked her not long after her first anniversary with the guild passed, a milestone Pauline had hoped would lead to some softening of Brenda's standoffish manner.

“I really doubt it.” After so many slights and rebuffs, Pauline would not have persisted in trying to win over Brenda except that her unfriendliness was the only flaw that kept the Cherokee Rose Quilters from being, for Pauline at least, absolutely perfect.

“Can you still work with her even if you'll never be best buds?” Ray asked.

“I've been able to all this time,” Pauline replied. “I guess I can keep it up.”

And so she decided to abandon her dogged quest to get Brenda to like her. Pauline had admired the Cherokee Rose Quilters for too long to let one person prevent her from enjoying a group that otherwise meant the world to her. It was her refuge from her demanding, stressful job and her cherished but often overwhelming role as a wife and mother. She could not let one disappointment, however glaring, ruin it for her.

She had almost resigned herself to Brenda's indifference by the time she took over the office of guild treasurer. Pauline relished the opportunity to contribute more to the success of the group that had given her so much pleasure and inspiration. In her first month in office, she overhauled their accounting system, entered all their paper records into the computer, and linked to their bank accounts online, earning praise and heartfelt thanks from the others, who had discussed the upgrade for years but had been reluctant to take on such an arduous task. She paid their bills on time and met with their portfolio manager to be sure their investments were on track. It was the sort of task-oriented, attention-to-detail work she excelled at, and she thoroughly enjoyed it, except for one important but nagging duty she was required to complete every few months: collecting fees from her fellow guild members.

Upon joining the guild, every member was informed of the various financial contributions that would be expected of her, from annual membership dues to donations to the president's thank-you gift fund. It was the treasurer's responsibility to announce upcoming deadlines, calculate the required fees, and collect payments. Most guild members paid promptly and without complaint within days of receiving Pauline's reminder e-mails, and a few paid ahead of time. Inevitably, some members forgot until the due date arrived, and Pauline would field a flurry of apologetic e-mails and phone calls assuring her they would send her a check the following morning.

And then there was Brenda.

She never paid on time—not her annual dues, not her nominal year-end donation to the museum endowment, not her contribution to the supplies fund, which they used to buy cones of thread and batting for their charity quilts. Pauline found herself nudging Brenda nearly every month for one outstanding bill or another. The first time Brenda missed a deadline, Pauline paid for her and sent her a cheerful e-mail assuring Brenda that she could reimburse her at their next meeting. Two weeks later, Brenda instead mailed her a check, without a word of thanks or explanation. After a few more missed payments, Pauline began to wonder if Brenda and her husband had fallen upon hard times like so many other folks, and she considered offering to pay Brenda's guild debts until they got back on their feet. Fortunately, before she could figure out how to delicately propose an arrangement, she overheard Brenda discussing the new car she was buying with her husband's annual bonus, sparing Pauline from offending Brenda beyond redemption by offering unnecessary charity. If money wasn't the issue, Pauline wondered, why wouldn't Brenda just pay up on time like everyone else?

As the months passed and stretched into years, Pauline retained the position of treasurer, a time-consuming post that no one else especially wanted and everyone—except Brenda—agreed she handled with aplomb. She hoped she would become accustomed to Brenda's quirks and more patient in dealing with them, but instead she only became more practiced at concealing her annoyance. She vented to Ray, but she couldn't bring herself to complain to Jeanette, the guild president, or any of her other close friends in the guild. As far as she could tell, everyone else liked Brenda and considered her a valued member of their circle, whereas sometimes, even after five years in the guild, Pauline still felt as if she had to prove herself worthy. And so, in the interest of maintaining peace and harmony, she kept her frustrations to herself, gritting her teeth every time she sent Brenda one courteous e-mail reminder after another, paid Brenda's overdue fees, and awaited reimbursement rather than let the guild's accounts slip into the red.

She should have known that approach would work only so long.

Eight months before Quiltsgiving, when the Cherokee Rose Quilters had recovered from the previous year's charity fund-raiser retreat but weren't quite ready to begin planning the next, the catering manager of the Château Élan phoned Pauline with an enticing offer. In appreciation for their longstanding relationship, the Château Élan offered to reduce their usual fees by 25 percent if the quilt guild would pay half up front at least six months before the date of their event.

The offer was enticing. The Cherokee Rose Quilters could contribute the money they saved on resort expenses to the home-less shelter, or the museum endowment fund, or additional supplies for their charity quilts, or scholarships to defray the costs of their retreats for quilters facing financial hardship, or any number of good works. But could they pay half up front as the Château Élan required? Usually the guild paid a nominal fee when they booked their reservation, followed by a larger percentage of the total cost after registration fees began coming in, about three months before the retreat. They had already paid that year's booking fee, but half up front would be a rather considerable sum, more than what remained of their annual budget.

Pauline promised to get back in touch with the catering manager as soon as she discussed his proposal with the rest of the guild.

First she examined their accounts to see what she had to work with. By taking a little from this fund and a little from that, and shifting some surplus from here to there, she figured they could scrape together enough cash if each guild member contributed an additional two hundred dollars. It could be considered an early payment of their annual membership dues, and when the retreat tuition checks began rolling in, they could replenish the guild's account. No one would have to pay a dime more than usual; they would simply have to pay earlier.

Pauline knew that some of the Cherokee Rose Quilters were quite well off; others, like herself, belonged to households that managed to get by fairly comfortably on two modest incomes. A few struggled, supporting themselves on their artist's commissions without the benefit of a spouse's salary. Pauline realized that especially for these few, an early payment of their annual dues might not fit within their tight budgets, and she was tempted to forget the whole plan rather than ask anyone to pay more than they could afford. But when she thought of all the good they could do with that 25 percent savings, she knew it was her responsibility to tell the guild about the Château Élan's offer and what they needed to do to accept it.