Janelle Novak

Janelle ran her hands over her hair, hoping the neat chignon would stay pinned in place, and making certain she hadn’t accidentally left a pencil or two stuck in it. Looking in the rearview mirror, she put on a light coat of lip gloss and checked her makeup. Simple, neutral. Nothing too colorful or unprofessional. Even the outfit she’d chosen was in more muted tones than she usually wore. She could only hope the navy dress and black pumps would give her an air of confidence and mask the desperation she was feeling.

She got out of her car and shivered in the chilly late January air, pulling her wool coat closely around her. Normally she’d be in leggings and a sweater, but that wouldn’t do for this meeting. Leaning into the car, she grabbed the folders with all of her financial information. As she brought them to her chest, she whispered, “Please, please, let this be enough. I have to get this loan.” She took a fortifying breath hoping the cold would freeze out her fears and walked into the Bank of New Hampshire for her eleven o’clock appointment with a loan officer.

A receptionist, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-two, pointed to an office and told Janelle Mr. Chandler would be with her shortly. She turned down an offer of coffee. Her stomach was a mess, and she didn’t think she’d be able to hold the cup steady. She’d probably end up spilling it on herself, the loan officer, or the papers she’s brought. And they wouldn’t make it strong enough for her to enjoy anyway.

Looking around the intimidating office with its wood furniture and framed certificates, she realized this wasn’t the first time in her life she was somewhere she didn’t expect to be. She didn’t expect to be accepted to Parson’s School of Design, she didn’t expect to not be able to find a job that allowed her to design clothes (and pay the rent), and she certainly didn’t expect to move back to Fable Notch five years ago let alone love living here.

As she sat waited, Janelle thought about the last several years. Returning to her hometown hadn’t been an easy decision. When she graduated from high school, she’d told everyone she planned to take the New York fashion world by storm. The fact that only her best friend, Eden Barrett, and Bette Brown, the woman who’d been like a grandmother to her after the death of first her mother then her father, believed Janelle didn’t matter. She was going to have the life she dreamed of, far away from people who didn’t want her around — including her stepmother, Victoria — or who thought of her as that poor girl with the dead parents who always wore modified hand-me-downs she’d sewn herself. She’d show them all.

But it didn’t take long after graduation to learn that the best jobs went to the people who knew the right people – or slept with the right people – and that wasn’t her, on either count. Okay, it could have been her on the second count, but she’d been determined to make it on her own. For four years, she ignored every salacious suggestion of “advancement” hoping her talent would be enough to get her the job she wanted.

There had been one opportunity she’d considered. She’d attended a fancy event at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and met someone she’d been attracted to. They’d left together and went to his place where she discovered that his family owned one of the most successful labels in the industry. When he’d learned she wanted to be a designer — after they’d gone to bed — he offered her a job or at least a recommendation. It had been as tempting as he was. Especially since the offer was based on him appreciating the dress she’d worn, a design of her own, and her input on a drawing of his and not on anything sexual.

But Ash Royce wasn’t just fashion royalty. He was a known player. And if she’d accepted, no one would believe she hadn’t earned the job on her back. Instead, she’d snuck out while he was sleeping, and he remained a wonderful, one-night-stand who lived on in her fantasies.

But as time went on and the job she dreamed of never materialized, she made the decision to return to Fable Notch. It was only supposed to be a short-term change to regroup, save money, and make some decisions about her future. At first Janelle saw herself as a failure, something Victoria was all too happy to remind her of as she made yet another request for errands and hemming. But it wasn’t long before she’d reconnected with Eden and found comfort and support from Bette. She’d even realized that the younger of her two stepsisters, Devon, had grown out of the bratty teenager she’d been and become a likeable young woman.

And then there had been the opening of her beloved store, Tailor Thrift.

Janelle had been home for barely a month before she’d run from the house where she’d grown up and straight to Bette and the spare bedroom she offered. Borrowing Bette’s car, her days were spent doing temp jobs at some of the area businesses and several nights a week waiting tables at the upscale restaurant at the Castle on the Hill hotel. The money was as good as in New York and went much further. In her free time, she did what she always did – sketched dresses she would never get a chance to make and alter the occasional thrift finds she bought.

It was the day Bette asked for help clearing the attic that changed everything. Lured by the promise of being allowed to keep whatever she wanted, Janelle followed Bette up the narrow stairs and into a small piece of paradise. Like the way Beauty reacted when she saw the Beast’s library, Janelle practically squealed at the sight of all the clothes Bette had hidden way. She’d seen the woman’s overstuffed closets, but never imagined there was more – so much more. Bette clearly loved fashion as much as Janelle did, but was a shopper, not a designer.

They’d spent the next several hours organizing Bette’s stash and when they were done, Janelle had a pile of clothes to modify and keep. There was also plenty remaining to would be donated.

“You’ve got a boutique’s worth of clothes here,” Janelle said as she continued to separate clothes into categories: casual wear, knits, cocktail dresses, blouses, pants, sweaters.

Bette looked around the room and sighed. “I do. I didn’t realize how much I’d bought and put away over the years. When Lawrence sees this, he’s going to flip. Or laugh. I suppose he’s not unaware of all I’ve accumulated. Maybe I should hide it in the old store. The building is completely empty at the moment, although that would only be a temporary solution, until we find a new tenant.”

With her husband, Lawrence, Bette had run a hardware store on the main street of the town. It was in a good-size building that also had an apartment upstairs which the Brown’s rented out for extra income. When they’d decided to retire two years before, they’d sold the inventory and a new business moved in but hadn’t lasted.

In a flash, the two concepts came together. A boutique’s worth of clothes and completely empty at the moment. As if someone had placed a picture into her brain, Janelle could see a store filled with a curated inventory of secondhand clothes for women and men and plenty extra for her to alter and redesign to her heart’s content. She dropped to the floor, suddenly boneless. She didn’t know what her expression was, but it must have been worrying because Bette rushed over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

She was more than okay. She was excited for the first time in months. Months? Probably years. “Bette, what if I didn’t just want the clothes? What if I wanted the building too?”

It hadn’t taken long for Janelle to get the store up and running. With help from Eden and Devon — and with Bette’s blessing — she’d repainted the space and decorated with as many mirrors and fashion prints as she could find. She drove all over New England going to thrift stores for more inventory, bought bulk lots online, found used clothing racks and even bought an L-shaped front desk from a salon that was going out of business.

By the time Tailor Thrift opened, Janelle was living above the store and bounding out of bed every morning with energy and excitement. The store was everything she’d envisioned and more. She spent her days helping customers and reaching out to estate sales for possible inventory. At night, she’d head to her apartment with its growing piles of clothes, some of which she repaired, others she restored, and a few were remade.

It took a little while for the store’s reputation to grow, but once she added more altered clothes and started her YouTube channel, things took off. Bette accepted only a minimal monthly rent, which helped Janelle’s early success, and last year, after Lawrence passed, she told Janelle she was planning to leave her the building when she died. Janelle was touched by the offer but said she would rather have Bette around. Still, it was good to know that the place would always be hers.

Then four months ago, things came crashing down.

Bette didn’t like living alone and decided to move to the Crawford Senior Center. Janelle had seen the toll widowhood had taken on her friend and was in full support of the decision. Bette planned to use Lawrence’s life insurance along with the proceeds from the sale of her house to provide the finances she needed. Unfortunately, when she went to put the home on the market, she learned that her son, Gregory, had taken out a loan the year before which had used all of the existing equity in the house. Left with no other alternative, Bette needed to sell the building as soon as possible.

And that was why Janelle was sitting here waiting for Mr. Chandler, Loan Officer, to tell her whether they would grant her the loan she needed so that Bette could have the retirement she deserved.

“Ms. Novak,” said a deep voice, startling Janelle out of her thoughts. “I’m Bert Chandler.”

Janelle took the extended hand and shook it. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Thank you for opening such a well-stocked thrift store,” he said as he sat behind his desk. Even though he was smiling, Janelle felt as though she’d been sent to the principal’s office. “You’ve saved me quite a bit of money since my daughter became a teenager.”

Taking this as a positive sign, Janelle allowed herself to relax. “I’m so glad she likes the store. I’ve worked hard to create a special place. As well as a lucrative one.”

He gave her a nod and held out a hand again. “Let’s see your financials.” She turned over the files to him and sat there trying hard not to fidget. It wasn’t a big file and minutes later he said, “Is this everything?”

“Everything?” She couldn’t imagine what she was missing.

“You haven’t listed any appreciating assets.” She must have given him a strange look. The only time she’d heard that expression it meant something very non-business like. “Items of value that increase over time. Property or stocks. Or how about art?”

“My YouTube channel has been growing consistently for more than a year. Each month it earns more, and while the monthly gross at the store fluctuates, you can see that business is strong and getting stronger.” Did he hear the fear in her voice?

“I do see that, and what you’ve built is impressive and shows a lot of potential, but that’s not likely to be enough. For the bank to give you a loan of this size they need something substantial for collateral.” Janelle’s heart fell. She had nothing like that. She was her only asset. “Maybe there’s someone with assets who can co-sign the loan, guaranteeing payment.”

Janelle thought of the people who supported her. Eden would co-sign in a minute, but she’d recently opened her own business, and the bank probably wouldn’t see her as a good risk. Bette was out of the question, even with her standing in the community. For a split-second Janelle considered her parents’ home. But when her father died, it had been left to Victoria. There was no way she’d help, and the substantial life-insurance policy her father left her had been used for her college tuition. That gave Janelle an idea. “I don’t have any debt, Mr. Chandler, and very few fixed expenses. I know I can make the payments. I will do whatever it takes.” She’d survive on ramen noodles and coffee. She’d done it before.

“I appreciate your determination. I’m sure it has been a big part of what’s made your store so successful. But without a downpayment of at least….” He looked through the pages and at her total request. “…$100,000 or collateral of an equal or greater amount, I have to tell you that I think the chances of the bank approving your loan are very small.”

He may as well have asked for a million dollars. If she had money like that, she’d hand it to Bette and pay for Crawford herself. But she wasn’t giving up. “Does this mean you’re not submitting my application?”

“Of course not, Ms. Novak. Your store is a unique part of our town. Unfortunately, that’s not something the bank, as an institution, considers. I’d love to see you receive a loan, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. You may need a Plan B.”

A few minutes later the meeting was over. Janelle drove to her store and walked around, looking at all she’d done, all she’d created. Everything in here made her proud and happy. She couldn’t lose it. But $100,000? She couldn’t think how it would be possible.

Going upstairs, she took off the suffocating outfit and changed into something comfortable. Then she fell on her bed and texted Eden. That was probably a waste of time.

How can I help? Exactly the response Janelle would have expected from her friend. If only she had an answer. She sent a shrugging emoji. Eden responded with, How about company and chocolate?

It was the best choice for the moment. Can you come here? Don’t think I should be out in public.

Later that afternoon Eden arrived with a pan of macaroni and cheese as well as Dani Vaughn and Sheridan Behr, two of the other women Janelle had become friends with since moving back. Sheridan brought chocolate cookies from her place, the Just Right Café. Dani brought beers from the Seven Brothers Brewery and a virtual hug from Laurel Stewart who ran the place. “Laurel wishes she could come, but Thursdays are busy,” Dani explained.

“I’ll tell her thanks the next time I see her,” Janelle said. She was grateful for the support, however it came.

For the next few hours the four women ate, drank, and searched for other financial opportunities but there weren’t many options available. Janelle couldn’t bear to try a Go Fund Me page. Not only would it humiliate her, but Bette as well. Eden suggested they ask her father, a real estate mogul in the area, to co-sign, but they agreed being tied to Patrick Barrett was a bad idea. Especially since he might want the building for himself.

“I’d suggest Nick as a co-signer,” said Dani referencing her new fiancé, “but since he’s trying to build a new business, he probably doesn’t look good on paper either.”

“Short of selling a body part or winning the lottery, I don’t know what to do,” Janelle said. For the second time that day, Ash Royce entered her head. He was a man with all the means and, from what he’d told her on their night together, none of the opportunity. She had an opportunity she loved and none of the means. It wasn’t fair.

“There’s always a chance they’ll say yes,” Eden offered, putting her arm around Janelle. She appreciated her friend’s optimism even if she didn’t share it.

A week later she had her answer. She needed a Plan B.

He’s fashion royalty. She’s the queen of thrift.
Now their career hopes are pinned on one another.
Read Janelle and Ash’s story
Can’t Let You Go