The Aloha Quilt (27 page)

“Agreed,” said Claire. “Even if Craig can’t claim part of anything you take on after
you separated, he’ll inevitably hear about the deal, and then he’ll have your address.
Let’s postpone that as long as possible.”

“How about forever?” said Bonnie wearily. “It’s bad enough that I’ve had to change
my cell phone number and set up all sorts of filters on my email. I’m lucky Craig’s
too cheap to buy an airline ticket to Maui. He prefers to torment me on a budget.”

Claire laughed and flung her arms around Bonnie. “I’m so glad you’re staying. I know
it hurts to lose Elm Creek Quilts, but I hope you’ll soon see that you’ve gained so
much more than you’ve lost.”

“I haven’t said yes yet,” Bonnie reminded her, laughing as she embraced her friend,
blinking back tears when she thought of the friends who seemed all too willing to
let her go.

Claire must have called Eric as soon as Bonnie left the quilt shop, for less than
an hour later she tracked Bonnie down in the laundry room where she was folding bed
linens with Midori and declared that Eric intended to contact their lawyer and draw
up the papers that week. Bonnie reminded her that she wouldn’t be in a position to
buy into a partnership until after the divorce was final and she intended to use that
time to consider Claire’s offer very seriously. “Don’t pressure me,” she begged, but
when Claire promised she wouldn’t,
Midori shook her head, gazed heavenward, and remarked that Bonnie might as well wish
for a white Christmas on K
ā
‘anapali Beach.

Bonnie didn’t need snow to spark her anticipation for the Christmas season. Her eldest
son, C.J., was coming for a visit, bringing along his wife, Julie; their four-year-old
daughter, Alice; and their eight-month-old son, Cameron. Bonnie ached to cuddle her
grandbabies again, and with her family around her, Bonnie hoped the pain and disappointment
of her most recent losses would ease.

But in the meantime, they weighed heavily upon her heart. She tried to lose herself
in preparing for the holidays and in her work—and she certainly had enough to do.
As the application deadline approached, each day brought another stack of thick envelopes
from aspiring quilt camp faculty. Bonnie and Claire sorted through them, laughing
at themselves for their premature ranking of the first eighteen candidates, which
had been thrown into shambles by the arrival of twenty-six more applications. In hindsight
their disagreement over superstars and salaries seemed embarrassingly silly, and Claire
didn’t even say “I told you so” when her prediction about Bonnie’s top pick proved
to be true. Although Bonnie regretted that such a fine quilter had placed herself
out of their price range, so many other well-qualified, affordable candidates were
eager to come for interviews that her regret was fleeting.

By mid-December they had interviewed twenty candidates by phone and had chosen ten
to invite for interviews: five from Hawaii, four from the mainland, and one from Japan.
All but one was a woman and each was an accomplished quilter and teacher. Some had
written books about quilting techniques or history; others had designed and sold their
own original patterns; and all had won recognition for their artistry, either
as ribbons awarded in quilt shows or the honor of having photographs of their work
published in books, magazines, or calendars. Bonnie was eager to meet them and assess
all the intangibles that couldn’t be conveyed on paper or over the phone, but she
and Claire agreed to schedule the interviews for early January, after the holiday
rush. The inn was booked to capacity from the week before Christmas through the first
days of the New Year and their finalists were likely busy with holiday plans of their
own. Although their launch date was approaching quickly and they had little time to
spare, the delay seemed wise since it would offer both interviewers and applicants
a better chance to make a good impression.

But the distractions of work and preparing for her son’s visit offered Bonnie only
momentary solace from her troubles. The divorce proceedings dragged on. Confronted
with the evidence of his adultery, Craig had resentfully abandoned his attempt to
deny Bonnie a no-contest divorce, but the division of property remained a sticking
point. Bonnie dreaded the day Craig would discover how she had evaded his claim upon
her share of Elm Creek Quilts, because he was sure to become even more obstinate.

As Darren made arrangements for the sale, several of the Elm Creek Quilters called
or sent emails to assure Bonnie that she was as essential to the quilt camp as ever,
but their words seemed empty. She could not blame them for putting Elm Creek Quilts
first, but she had hoped for something more than a rational business decision from
her closest friends. If she couldn’t count on her best girlfriends to be irrationally,
passionately reckless in her defense, what could she count on?

“What were you hoping they would do?” asked Midori, without a hint of irony. “Let
Craig tear down Elm Creek Quilts rather than break up your circle of quilters?”

“Of course not,” said Bonnie. “Do you want the whole, embarrassing truth? I wanted
my friends to insist that I keep my ten percent regardless of the risk. I wanted them
to lock arms with me and dare Craig to bring on his worst. I wanted them to declare
that they would rather have us all go down with the ship than cut one of us loose
on a leaking dinghy. And then, over a chorus of their protests, I would sacrifice
my ten percent to save Elm Creek Quilts.”

“I see. You wanted to be the noble heroine.”

“Exactly.” Bonnie forced a laugh through her tears, mocking her own foolishness. “I
know selling my share is the only reasonable option, but I wanted it to be my choice.”

“The result would be the same.”

“Yes, but it would be my decision. Instead I feel like my friends packed my suitcases
for me and left them on the front porch. There’s only so much rejection a woman can
take.”

“Oh, Bonnie.” Midori shook her head sympathetically. “You can’t take this personally.
It was a business decision, nothing more. Your friends haven’t rejected you. From
everything I’ve seen, they value your friendship as much as ever.”

“In my head, I know that,” Bonnie said, “but in my heart, it feels like they’ve abandoned
me when I needed them most. Claire never would have done this to me.”

“Not to you, no. I’m sure she wouldn’t ever betray you.”

“Not just me. Anyone. She’s loyal to a fault.”

Midori shrugged and began taking mixing bowls and measuring cups from cupboards. “As
you say.”

“Claire would never betray a friend,” Bonnie insisted.

“I doubt your Elm Creek Quilters would, either,” said Midori, taking a sack of cornmeal
from the pantry. “Once you get beyond your hurt feelings, you’ll see that for yourself.”

Bonnie tried, but even when the Elm Creek Quilters called
or emailed with what they probably intended as friendly reassurances, Bonnie sensed
a widening distance between them. Anna phoned, bubbling over with thanks and promises
to manage Bonnie’s share of the business prudently, but Bonnie could manage only a
wooden “You’re welcome” in reply. When Sylvia phoned the day after the documents of
sale arrived via overnight mail, Bonnie’s first thought was that Sylvia had called
out of concern that Bonnie had changed her mind. To her relief, Sylvia didn’t urge
her to sign the papers and return them; on the contrary, she queried Bonnie until
satisfied that she didn’t feel pressured to sell and that she understood she didn’t
have to. Although she told Sylvia otherwise, Bonnie
did
feel pressured—by Craig and the circumstances if not the Elm Creek Quilters—and she
did
have to sell. Either Sylvia didn’t realize this, which was unlikely, or she was calling
merely to ease her own conscience, which disappointed Bonnie tremendously.

As the conversation limped to a close, Sylvia suddenly asked, “Have you given any
more thought to opening Grandma’s Parlor before the camp season begins?”

Grandma’s Parlor—the small quilt shop Sylvia had proposed Bonnie open in the manor,
a consolation prize for the quilt shop Bonnie had lost. “Not really,” said Bonnie,
surprised. “I’ve been so busy here that I honestly haven’t thought about it.”

“I suppose it isn’t necessary to hold your grand opening on the first day of camp,
but if you want to, we should start making plans.”

“I can’t really think about it now with the holidays coming up, and we’re scheduling
interviews for teachers…”

“Of course,” said Sylvia when Bonnie didn’t continue. “Perhaps in January you’ll be
ready to begin planning in earnest.
In the meantime, should I have Joe take some measurements? You recall he offered to
design custom shelves for you. He’s eager to begin so that he can be sure to finish
everything before opening day.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to measure the room, if he’s not too busy.”

“You know Joe. He isn’t happy unless he’s busy. I’m sure he’ll want to speak with
you eventually, however. Only you know what you’ll need, so he can’t start without
you.”

Bonnie hardly knew what to say. She was no longer certain that she would return to
Elm Creek Manor at all, much less open a quilt shop within its gray stone walls. “I’ll
try not to keep him waiting too long.”

“I’ll tell him you said so,” Sylvia said briskly. “Also, keep an eye out for a package
from me. I’m sending you some forms to fill out for the new camp season. Since you
won’t be here for our planning meetings, I’d like you to turn in your course proposals
early so that I can be sure you get your first choices.”

“Thanks,” said Bonnie, though it sounded like another consolation prize.

The whole conversation made her feel so uncomfortable and awkward that it was a relief
when it ended. She brooded about it afterward, turning over certain phrases in her
mind, analyzing and reinterpreting them. She considered asking Claire and Midori for
their opinions, but she knew that they would hear the same sentences and reach contradictory
conclusions. Finally, exasperated with herself, she gave up trying to puzzle out the
hidden meaning in Sylvia’s words. Sylvia was the least duplicitous woman Bonnie had
ever known. If she said she wanted Bonnie to remain on the Elm Creek Quilts faculty,
if she said she hoped Bonnie would open a quilt shop
in the manor for their campers’ benefit, if she said once an Elm Creek Quilter, always
an Elm Creek Quilter—she meant every word.

So Bonnie signed the papers and sent them overnight express to Darren Taylor, and
with that Anna became the happy owner of ten percent of Elm Creek Quilts—and Bonnie
felt as if she had sold away a portion of her heart.

But what was done was done, and there was no going back. She resolved to have no regrets,
only satisfaction that she had kept Elm Creek Quilts out of Craig’s greedy, grasping
hands.

She put a smile on her face for the guests of the inn, mustered up good cheer when
any Elm Creek Quilters phoned or emailed to check in on her—and mourned quietly, working
on her Pineapple Patch quilt in the peace of the shaded lanai, reminiscing about the
early days when she and her friends had worked and planned and worked some more, yet
unaware of how they would succeed beyond their wildest dreams.

She wondered if any other venture, even a quilt camp in paradise created with her
best friend, could ever replace what she had given up.

Thinking that sharing good news would cheer up her friend, Claire offered to let Bonnie
call their ten finalists while she revised the rejection letter and sent it out to
those who had already been eliminated. Bonnie gladly agreed to the division of labor.
She had experienced enough rejection already and didn’t relish the thought of exploring
it from the other side.

One day while Claire was working at the quilt shop, Bonnie took over her office and
phoned their top ten candidates with the good news. Their reactions ranged from self-assured
thanks to shrieks of delight, which lifted Bonnie’s spirits and
energized her for the difficult task of organizing the interview schedule and arranging
the applicants’ travel. Working around scheduling conflicts and scouring the Internet
for cheap airfares, sending emails back and forth with the finalists and phoning the
quilt shop to confirm details with Claire, Bonnie became so engrossed in her work
that the morning flew by. Her thoughts rarely turned to Elm Creek Quilts, and she
forgot to break for lunch until almost two o’clock.