Full Circle (5 page)

Sofia’s eyes
lit up. “That could work,” she said. “I’m always surprised at how definite they
are in their choices.” She looked at the two girls, each with a different
flavor of ice cream. “They don’t just follow along with each other’s likes or
dislikes, either.”

* * *

And so it
started. True to Sofia’s predictions, the girls knew precisely which styles
they liked. When a suitable pattern wasn’t available, Bella would buy the item
in the store, carefully cut the garment apart and create a pattern, often
improving it with subtle changes as directed by the two girls.

“I’ve been
thinking,” Bella said to Sofia after a successful trip to the fabric store.
“I’m going to give up my second job at the restaurant.” She’d moved on from the
fast food place several years ago, and had been working an evening shift in a
family restaurant. “When Melissa starts school in the fall, she’ll need me at home
in the evenings.”

“You’re a
good mother,” said Sofia with a sideways glance at her friend. “But you’re
right; she’ll need you at home, plus you’ve been pushing yourself for a lot of
years.”

“It’s hard to
imagine that it’s been almost six years since I moved here.” Bella shifted the
large bag of fabric to her other hand. “And now we’re starting on something
new.” She thought of what lay ahead. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take
care of the license and the permit?”

Sofia shook
her head. “If I can survive the Immigration process, I can do this. Don’t
worry.”

* * *

They set up a
table in their assigned spot three weeks later and by mid-afternoon they were
completely sold out, with orders for the following weekend.

“I can’t
believe it!” said Bella, collapsing on one of the chairs on the front porch. “Did
you see the way they went after our stuff?” She accepted a glass of iced tea
from Sofia. “When we left this morning I was telling myself not to be too
disappointed if we didn’t sell anything.” She gave her head a shake. “But
this...I can’t believe it.” She turned to Sofia, who had just sat down. “Are we
charging enough?”

“
Si
.”
Her friend was remarkably calm. “For now, I think our prices are just right,
but we do have a problem.”

Bella frowned.
“What’s that?”

“We need
help.” She gestured back into the house. “We only have one machine, and there
are only so many hours in the day. Would you trust me to farm out some pieces?
It’s the only way we can make enough for next weekend.” She took a drink of
tea, dark eyes thoughtful. “Did you make notes on what people asked for that we
didn’t have?”

“Up here.”
Bella tapped her head. “Can we add some more styles if I get started on the
designs and the patterns?”

“In a few
weeks, yes. Right now, we need more fabric.” Sofia grinned. “Lots more fabric.”

By the end of
the summer season, five of Sofia’s friends were working full time producing
clothing. Instead of slowing down, their sales increased every week. Their
success was confirmed when other vendors vied to be near them, to take
advantage of the crowds that formed around their display every week. Bella’s
dreams of success were beginning to look like more than just dreams.

* * *

“We need to
make an investment,” said Sofia, counting their money late one Sunday evening
and entering figures into the spiral binder in which she meticulously kept
track of their costs, as well as their sales.

“What’s
that?” said Bella, her feet up on a stool. She was exhausted after working her
regular shift in the fabric store all week, plus a hectic weekend selling
clothes. At times like this she wondered if her almost fanatical drive to
succeed was healthy. But she only had to look at Melissa and she was
rejuvenated.

“We need some
properly printed tags, and a label.”

Bella was
quiet for several moments.

Sofia looked
up, wondering why her friend was hesitating. “Don’t you agree?”

“I do,” she
replied, “but summer will be over in a few weeks, and from what we’ve been told
the crowds thin out a lot when the weather cools down.”

“Labels and
tags aren’t that expensive. I’ve already looked into it.” Sofia got up, went
into the house and came back with a file containing two quotes. “We can always
use them next year, if sales slow down.” She handed the file to Bella. “Do you
know how much money we’ve made so far this year?” She did a quick calculation
in the spiral binder. “Just over fourteen thousand.”

Bella looked
up sharply. “Profit?” She knew things had been going well, but not this well.

Sofia nodded.
“Net profit, before taxes. Neither of us has taken a salary, but even so, that’s
pretty good, no?”

“I wish I had
the energy to celebrate. I’d say that’s outstanding for a couple of single
moms.”

“So what will
we put on the label?”

Bella held
her glass of iced tea against her temple. She was getting a headache. “I don’t
know. Have you got any ideas?”

“
Si
. I
think we should call it
Bella
. It’s simple, it describes our product, it
fits on the label, and it’s your name.”

“But Sofia.
We’re in this together.”

“Of course we
are, but you and I know that. That’s all that matters.” She paused. “
Bella
.
In a nice, bold script.” She picked up the file which Bella hadn’t even
bothered to open. “Shall I order them, then?”

“Sure.” Bella
gave a half-hearted laugh. “I’ve been so busy trying to make a success out of
our business that I didn’t give much thought to how much money we were making.”
From the beginning of their partnership, the division of work had come
naturally. Bella made the final decisions on styles and fabrics while Sofia
took care of production. Bella took charge of patterns and cutting while Sofia
functioned as the bookkeeper and banker.

“That reminds
me.” Sofia sat down across from her friend. “It’s time we started to buy our
fabric by the bolt. Then we could afford to pay a bit more to our seamstresses.
I’m already looking around for more help.”

Rafael Vargas
stood on his balcony and looked down on Los Angeles. A light rain had fallen
overnight, and the trees shone in the morning sun. He’d only been in California
a few weeks, but already he was feeling like a different person. As his gaze
drifted over the rooftops below, he looked back on how he’d arrived at this
point in his life.

His family
had been shocked when he announced his decision to leave Lima. As the eldest
son, it was expected that he would eventually take over the family textile
business. Both he and his younger brother Miguel had worked in the mill every
year since he could remember, learning from the ground up what it took to run
the family empire. Now that he had broken free, he could finally admit to
himself that he’d never enjoyed the work. Starting at the very bottom hadn’t
bothered him; it was tradition, and the workers in his father’s factories
respected the family even more for it. What bothered him was that the business
was already built, and that his father, entrenched in his ways, was not open to
new ideas. The challenge had been met many years ago, when his father had been
young. When Rafael eventually took over, he would be little more than a caretaker,
and where was the satisfaction in that?

But
traditions run deep in the Vargas family, and ever the dutiful son, he’d tamped
down his frustrations. That is, until he was presented with the young woman he
was expected to marry. Suddenly his life had stretched endlessly out before
him; a succession of choices made by others.

Maria’s
parents were long time friends of the Vargas family. She was a beauty, there
was no denying it, but he scarcely knew her. Much to the delight of both
families, he invited her out to dinner which lasted several hours. It was
evident to him from the beginning that her affections lay in another direction,
and eventually she admitted that she and his brother Miguel had been seeing
each other in secret for several months.

What’s more, Rafael’s
brother loved the family business. Marketing was his main interest, and he was
good at it. With Maria by his side, Rafael had no doubt that the company would
be in excellent hands when his father finally retired.

But where to
go? He raised his head and looked toward the ocean. California had been the
ideal solution. He had a deeply rooted need to be near the ocean, and once
here, he’d driven part way up the PCH almost every day. He particularly loved
the days when breakers rolled in, hurling fine spray into the air. Sun shining
through the mist bathed the coastline in an ethereal, unworldly glow. He didn’t
think he’d ever tire of it.

Following his
usual pattern, he drove slowly north, top down in the brilliant morning
sunshine, but the scenery wasn’t doing it for him today. He picked up coffee at
a drive-through kiosk and continued, eventually parking in an almost deserted
lot beside a broad expanse of sand. Later today the beach would be crowded, but
this morning it was an ideal spot for reflection.

Okay...he had
to admit it...he was getting bored. He sipped the coffee thoughtfully, and for
the first time since leaving Peru he wondered if he’d made a mistake to come
here without a plan. He had plenty of money thanks to his maternal grandmother.
He smiled now at the thought of her. His
abuela
had been crafty and far
ahead of her time, amassing a varied portfolio of stocks that would have
impressed any successful Wall Street investor. And when she died, she’d split
her estate between Rafa and Miguel.

If only he
could talk to her now. It had been to her that he’d turned when frustrated with
his father’s pedantic approach to business. She’d grasped new concepts
instantly, particularly his desire to branch out into fashion. But his father
wouldn’t listen, claiming that such a move would alienate their current
customers, who bought fabric from them for that very purpose. “We would be
competing with our own customers,” his father roared, refusing to discuss
Rafael’s ideas further.

His
grandmother may have understood his frustrations, and agreed with his ideas,
but she was not in a position to influence his father. “You will find your
way,” she’d said, looking at him with those piercing black eyes. “Be patient.”

He tossed out
the remains of the coffee and got out to stretch his legs. Two young women on
roller blades eyed him as he walked along, unaware of their interest. Tall and
athletically built, his skin was naturally bronzed by the sun, his hair full
and black. Rafael Vargas was a rare exception here in southern California...a
handsome man who wasn’t obsessed about how he looked.

* * *

It was going
to be another busy day and Bella was angry at herself. She and Sofia had spent
last evening attaching tags to the garments for today’s market before packing
everything into the large plastic totes they used to transport the finished
product. The seamstresses had been sewing the labels into the garments for a
couple of weeks now, giving them a professional look. The tags completed the
effect. In the aftermath of this effort, she’d forgotten to set her alarm.
Melissa and Valeria had slept at Sofia’s and were spending the day with
Consuela. This morning Sofia had called her several times, and had finally resorted
to pounding on her door to wake her up.

She’d left home
with minimal makeup, wet hair tied in the back with the first thing she could
find...a scrunchy made from some left-over fabric. Bright and colorful, it
lifted her mood, and they were soon on their way to Venice.

“Is it worth
it,
mi amiga
?” Sofia stole a glance at her friend as they drove the
short distance to the market. “You’re wearing yourself out.”

Bella knew
what her friend was talking about. She’d confided in Sofia almost from the
beginning, struggling to put into words the burning desire she felt to go back
home some day, a success. More than anything, she wanted to keep her promise to
her father, and make him proud. With the phenomenal growth of their clothing,
she dared to imagine that she might do it, but she knew that her friend was
right...the strain was beginning to tell.

“Tell you
what,” she said, buoyed by a sudden thought. “Let’s take a month off this
winter. Sales are bound to slow down when there are fewer tourists, and things
will be a lot easier around here.” She was on a roll. “We both need a bit of a
rest. Then, if things pick up again in the spring, I’ll quit my job at the
fabric store and devote full time to the business. What do you say?”

Sofia beamed.
“I say that’s the best idea you’ve had all summer.” She paused. “I’ve been
talking to the production seamstresses, reminding them that work will slow down
in the winter. They’ve all accepted that, and I think most of them have
budgeted accordingly.”

About ninety
percent of their home workers were immigrants from Mexico and South America.
Sofia identified with them, and treated them with respect, which was repaid with
excellent, on-time work.

“One of the
ladies suggested that we might do some new styles for Christmas.” They’d just
pulled into the parking lot and she turned to Bella. “What do you think?”

Bella thought
for a moment. “Today might not be the best time for me to answer that, but I
don’t think so. At least not this year. I think we should firmly establish
ourselves with the summer styles before we branch out.”

“I think so
too, but I wanted to hear you say it.” Sofia grinned and started to unload the
car, piling the bins on a sturdy dolly they’d bought to move their goods. It
was amazing how she and Bella saw eye to eye on most business decisions. A
couple of months ago, when their business looked like it might go somewhere,
they’d sat down and talked about their goals. As part of the discussion, they
decided that if they disagreed on a business decision, the overriding factor
would always be what was good for the business. It was a simple, sound concept,
and although they hadn’t needed to put it into action, the decision was there,
keeping them focused on the future.