The Giving Quilt by Jennifer Chiaverini

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