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Authors: Terri Thayer
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the conversation to less incendiary topics.
“This seems like a very different crowd than the quilters I see at the store,” I said, pointing at a representative table. “Younger for one thing, more my age.”
Eve agreed. “With business savvy. When quilting became a billion-dollar industry, the corporate world started to take notice.”
That meant Mom had been on the right track with the software. I needed to finish computerizing the store to attract a good buyer.
Freddy sighed and sipped his scotch. “I’m old school, like your mother was. We were interested in quilts and spreading the word. We started vending at these shows for the same reason we started our shops—because we loved quilts. We made the mistake of making our avocation our vocation.”
“Why was that a mistake?” I asked. “Seems like you should be happy doing what you love to do.”
“Things changed,” Freddy said and lowered his voice. Eve looked bored as though she’d heard this diatribe before. “This new generation of vendors are business people first. They could be selling sewer pipe, for all they care.”
Eve’s face twisted with impatience. “Just because owners have starting running their shops like businesses meant to turn a real profit,” she said, “doesn’t mean they don’t care about the industry.”
Freddy pouted. “They don’t give a hoot about quilting. These people are direct descendents of the snake-oil salesmen. They’re vagabonds, setting up at quilt shows like itinerant traveling salesmen. Claire, for all her faults, was one of us.”
Eve sniffed and took a drink. “Selling is selling, Freddy.”
“Quilting is big business now, run by people ignorant of the art,” he continued.
Was he including Eve in that characterization? I glanced at her to see how she was taking this. Her eyebrows were gathering like thunderclouds.
“That’s the type of owner I am,” I said, trying again to lighten the mood. “I know nothing about quilting.”
“Yeah, but you’re different because you know nothing about business either,” Freddy quipped.
I punched him in the same spot Eve had hit earlier. He grunted and rubbed his bicep. I had more experience inflicting pain than she did.
“What was Claire, artist or businesswoman?” I asked.
Freddy brightened. “Claire was the exception. She managed to do both.”
I thought about Claire’s assistant. What would she do for a career now that Claire was dead? “And Myra?” I asked.
Eve and Freddy exchanged a look and laughed. “She’s all business, that one,” Freddy said.
Eve picked up her drink. “I’m going to make the rounds,” she said.
“Watch her work the room,” Freddy said as Eve put on a smile and stopped at a nearby table. “She’s like a bride at her wedding, greeting her guests. All she’s missing is the money bag to collect her gifts.”
To sell the store, I had to talk to some of these people. Swallowing a sudden shyness, I tapped Freddy on the arm. “So what about it, Freddy?” I said, with far more enthusiasm than I felt. “Are you going to introduce me around or what?”
Freddy and I followed in Eve’s wake as she circumvented the room. For the next hour, Freddy made good on his promise. I met at least thirty new people. Conversation centered around two things: the amount of business done today and Claire’s death. I was surprised to hear several men comparing the sizes of their daily totals, and I felt stupid when I didn’t know exactly how much business the booth had done today. I ducked any conversation about Claire. No one knew I was the one who found her and I wanted to keep it that way.
The muscles in my face were beginning to ache from constantly smiling so I decided to have one more glass of wine and leave. I gave Freddy a twenty and sent him to the bar and found a seat at a table just vacated by a group from Fresno. It felt good to be alone.
Freddy returned with a fresh drink for me and one for himself. A commotion
“This seems like a very different crowd than the quilters I see at the store,” I said, pointing at a representative table. “Younger for one thing, more my age.”
Eve agreed. “With business savvy. When quilting became a billion-dollar industry, the corporate world started to take notice.”
That meant Mom had been on the right track with the software. I needed to finish computerizing the store to attract a good buyer.
Freddy sighed and sipped his scotch. “I’m old school, like your mother was. We were interested in quilts and spreading the word. We started vending at these shows for the same reason we started our shops—because we loved quilts. We made the mistake of making our avocation our vocation.”
“Why was that a mistake?” I asked. “Seems like you should be happy doing what you love to do.”
“Things changed,” Freddy said and lowered his voice. Eve looked bored as though she’d heard this diatribe before. “This new generation of vendors are business people first. They could be selling sewer pipe, for all they care.”
Eve’s face twisted with impatience. “Just because owners have starting running their shops like businesses meant to turn a real profit,” she said, “doesn’t mean they don’t care about the industry.”
Freddy pouted. “They don’t give a hoot about quilting. These people are direct descendents of the snake-oil salesmen. They’re vagabonds, setting up at quilt shows like itinerant traveling salesmen. Claire, for all her faults, was one of us.”
Eve sniffed and took a drink. “Selling is selling, Freddy.”
“Quilting is big business now, run by people ignorant of the art,” he continued.
Was he including Eve in that characterization? I glanced at her to see how she was taking this. Her eyebrows were gathering like thunderclouds.
“That’s the type of owner I am,” I said, trying again to lighten the mood. “I know nothing about quilting.”
“Yeah, but you’re different because you know nothing about business either,” Freddy quipped.
I punched him in the same spot Eve had hit earlier. He grunted and rubbed his bicep. I had more experience inflicting pain than she did.
“What was Claire, artist or businesswoman?” I asked.
Freddy brightened. “Claire was the exception. She managed to do both.”
I thought about Claire’s assistant. What would she do for a career now that Claire was dead? “And Myra?” I asked.
Eve and Freddy exchanged a look and laughed. “She’s all business, that one,” Freddy said.
Eve picked up her drink. “I’m going to make the rounds,” she said.
“Watch her work the room,” Freddy said as Eve put on a smile and stopped at a nearby table. “She’s like a bride at her wedding, greeting her guests. All she’s missing is the money bag to collect her gifts.”
To sell the store, I had to talk to some of these people. Swallowing a sudden shyness, I tapped Freddy on the arm. “So what about it, Freddy?” I said, with far more enthusiasm than I felt. “Are you going to introduce me around or what?”
Freddy and I followed in Eve’s wake as she circumvented the room. For the next hour, Freddy made good on his promise. I met at least thirty new people. Conversation centered around two things: the amount of business done today and Claire’s death. I was surprised to hear several men comparing the sizes of their daily totals, and I felt stupid when I didn’t know exactly how much business the booth had done today. I ducked any conversation about Claire. No one knew I was the one who found her and I wanted to keep it that way.
The muscles in my face were beginning to ache from constantly smiling so I decided to have one more glass of wine and leave. I gave Freddy a twenty and sent him to the bar and found a seat at a table just vacated by a group from Fresno. It felt good to be alone.
Freddy returned with a fresh drink for me and one for himself. A commotion
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