Benefits of a private quilt group

I was late, per usual, to my quilt group.  "We're not holding lunch!"  Okay, I got it.  But first, I really need to stop at the grocery store, the feed store for birdseed, pick up my kids stuff that they forgot at a friends and, of course, the quilt shop.

The quilt shop is my last stop.  I am going to make it.  Pick up fabric and be back out the door.  In and out, easy.  I open the door.   No!  The store is having a huge sale and the place is absolutely packed.  I will never get through this crowd!  Lunch will either be cold (for me) or gone by the time I show up but I have to buy fabric! 

I grab the nearest batik knowing that this will placate every one in the group and go to stand in line.  Wait a minute.  There is no line.  Women are still shopping.  They must have just arrived.  Luck is still with me!  I quickly throw the bolt up on the counter, "Seven yards, please."  

"Have you been to our back room --"

"No, I just need the seven yards, please."  I tap my hand on the bolt.

"Perhaps you need needles?  Or thread?  It's all on sale --"

"No, I just need the seven yards."

Slowly she starts to unroll it.  I am half tempted to help her with this as I check my watch.  "Books.  All of our books are on sale --"

"Look.  I'm sorry.  I just need the seven yards.  I am now late for my quilt group and they are going to be eating salmon, shrimp, home grown asparagus, home made rolls and various vegetables and fruits. Someone always brings chips and their family recipe of salsa while someone else brings avocados and makes whatever that dip is called.  I am bringing a couple of chocolate things for dessert -- a few new recipes I tried out --  but I sampled too much which is why I had to stop at the grocery store.  Not that anybody is going to miss my cookies and brownies as one of the gals found some really big strawberries and she chocolate dipped them.  I am very far behind in my birthday giving, hence the seven yards of fabric, one yard for everyone in the group and," I point to my watch, "they are not going to tolerate my showing up late again.  I have been warned.  Please, just cut me the seven yards."

I see the woman staring at me with her mouth open and I suddenly realize that the place has gone dead.  I slowly turn to see everyone frozen in place.  Books partially leafed through, people bent over just pulling out a bolt of fabric, someone showing someone a pattern, one salesperson has stopped her rotary cutting half-way across someone's fabric and all of them staring in my direction.

From the back I hear, "What quilt group do you belong to?"

"It's a private one."

"How does one get into it?" from someone else.

"I'm sorry.  It's a group of friends that get together.  It's closed."

"And you do this once a year?"

"Nnnnooo.  Once a month."

"You eat like that once a month?"

"No!  Oh, heavens no!  Sometimes we have steak or prime rib or just plain ribs or . . . sometimes we have chicken."

The woman across from me is still staring.  I pat the bolt and slowly she comes around.  As people go back to what they were doing she leans across the table and whispers in all seriousness, "My name is Shelley.  I get off in a half hour.  Could I possibly come as your guest?"