One entrepreneur who survived breast cancer worried the stress of her struggling clothing shop might bring the illness back. Two others saw the dream of opening their new restaurant deferred after Sept. 11. Another tried to keep a promise to his family and himself: that he would not work himself to death. Yet another entrepreneur was somehow shielded from the tumult of the last year, inside his tiny stamp shop. Here's a closer look at the changes that occurred in the lives of some small-business owners profiled last year.

To close or not to close
Every time Sheri Waynick would begin to drift off to sleep, she'd pop awake, her mind full of worry over the decision she needed to make. "I don't know what to do," she'd whine to her husband, who would groan, not just sleepy but tired of having the same conversation over and over. Way nick had given herself until Dec. 31 to decide whether to close Lizard Thicket, her Peachtree City clothing shop for teenage girls.

Business had been sluggish all year. The economy had slowed, and Waynick was struggling to compete with stores like Limited Too and Gap, which had moved into a shopping center down the street. Then came Sept. 11. Many of Waynick's customers in Peachtree City - a community known as home for so many Delta Air Lines employees - feared they'd lose their jobs. They locked their wallets. From September through December, gross sales fell by $65,000, a 50 percent drop compared with most four-month periods.

Waynick tried not to worry. Since surviving aggressive breast cancer - it went into remission in late 2000 - her priorities had changed. The store would rank lower than her family and her health. Still indecision kept Waynick awake at night. On Dec. 31, she finally made a choice: to close Lizard Thicket. Waynick started breaking the news to her staff and loyal customers. They were crushed. The store was their favorite place to chit-chat and check out the latest boot-cut pants and belly rings. Every time Waynick said the words, "we're closing at the end of March," it felt more wrong. "I was sick over it, just sick over it," says Waynick, now 38. "I had worked too long and too hard for too many years in this business to give it up over one bad year. I didn't go down with cancer; I fought it."

So, four days after deciding to close, Waynick decided to stay open. She'll take it one year at a time because, since the cancer, she hasn't been able to look further ahead. Her lease runs month-to-month. If 2002 is as bad as 2001, Waynick will get out. Or maybe not. "I just have a positive feeling that things are going to pick up," she says. "This is a decision I can live with."

Everything on hold
There's a piffy new teal-green awning above the Everything Cafe on Martin Luther Jr. Drive. But try to get inside to sample the "world famous grilled chicken" advertised on that awning, and you'll find the door locked. Brown paper covers the windows. Monica and Jayson Smith had expected to close their original sandwich shop, Mr. Everything, and move across the street to the larger space by mid-September. Now, they're hoping for February. "Y'all ready to go?" a customer asked during a recent lunchtime visit to the original Mr. Everything. Monica stacked napkins and didn't look up. That question had been asked of her for months, and it had become difficult to mask her frustration. "Yeah," she sighed. "We're ready to go."

But the Everything Cafe isn't ready. One hallway needs to be covered with wallboard, then painted. Revised plans must be sent to the county health department. Bank loans and other financing are taking longer than expected to come through. Since Sept. 11, Monica says, the process of opening the new, full-service cafe restaurant has slowed considerably. So has business at the original Mr. Everything. It's still a crowded place with just two chairs and no tables. Jayson's still behind the sizzling grill, furiously grilling veggies and chicken.

But where they once served 300 people a day, the Smiths now serve 175. Monica is sure the setbacks are temporary. She expects the Everything Cafe will be a hit, with sea-foam green walls, staff members clad in khakis and - finally - plenty of places to sit down to eat. By this time next year, the Smiths expect to open another restaurant, perhaps in Decatur or Stone Mountain. The Everything Cafe could become a franchise. "I'd say most of the trouble can be chalked up to Sept.11," says Monica, 30. That date, by the way also is the Smith's wedding anniversary. They didn't even consider observing it this year, after the terrorist attacks. Instead, they spent much of the day on the phone, trying to make sure relatives in New York City were safe. The Smiths first met in the city. They left nine years ago to pursue their dream of opening restaurants. Giving up on that dream simply isn't an option.

Casting about
Jerry Whitlock has found peace at Lake Oconee, with its pristine water and friendly neighbors. He and his wife take refuge there most weekends. Whitlock seems, in many ways, to be a different man. No longer is he the guy who worked 14-hour days and borrowed against his mother's car to refinance inventory at EPM, his Stockbridge-based seals and gaskets company.

Two near heart attacks - and a doctor's warning that Whitlock would die if he didn't stop working so hard - sent him a message. So whenever his pulse begins to quicken, and the adrenaline starts to flow, Whitlock turns off the lights and slows himself down. He lets his five employees handle most of the orders for EPM's seals and gaskets, which are used on everything from shower heads to hydraulic presses. Billings and orders hit an all-time high in January, and Whitlock has projected sales will grow 40 percent this year. "I think I used to be addicted to adrenaline," says Whitlock, 48. "I enjoyed the rush."

Now he's content to cruise the lake on his 21-foot Stratos boat, breathing in the fresh lake air, fishing for bass. Uh-oh. Don't get him started on bass fishing. You might catch a glimpse of the old Whitlock. During his time on the lake, Whitlock has become mildly obsessed with the sport - writing a 128-page book, creating a Web site, planning a guide service to take people out on the lake. And there's a bass-fishing television show in the works. Whitlock will serve as the producer-director. The show will start shooting in mid-March, he says, and it will be broadcast on local cable. Whitlock also is getting ready to fish, in his first major bass tournament, in April. All this while running EPM.

Does it sound like he has slowed down? It's different now, Whitlock promises. In the past, entreprenuership was a game he had to win. Not anymore. "Sometimes, fishing is not about catching," he says. "It's about being out there and enjoying yourself."

Stamps for sale
The world outside Tony Roozen's small stamp shop has changed dramatically over the last year. But inside Stamps Unlimited of Georgia in downtown Atlanta, things are very much the same. "Stamp collectors are a hearty bunch," he says. "Nothing affects them." Roozen peels the postage off every letter he gets and spends hours combing through the vast collection that crowds every shelf in his little shop in the Carnegie Building. In May, to celebrate the shop's 25th anniversary, Roozen held a 25 percent-off sale and sold three times as many stamps.

"September was a little off, a little slow, but nothing unusual," says Roozen, 67. As in most years, in 2001 Stamps Unlimited did a little less than $250,000 in revenue. He's confident that his business will remain viable, even as interest in the hobby of stamp collecting continues to decline. He shrugs when asked what will happen to Stamps Unlimited when he's gone. For a while, Roozen gave up trying to get his children interested in collecting. Five months ago, though he took a long shot. His daughter, Terri, asked to borrow $1,000, to help pay for a birthday gift to her husband. "I said, 'I'll give you 2,000 stamps and hinges. After they're all in the album, you'll get $1,000,' " Roozen says.

The album, blue and white with a floppy cover, is "good for beginners," he says. "It's her first attempt at collecting." Each page features a different country and is clearly marked to show which stamps go where. Roozen recently checked to see if she'd completed the task. She still hasn't done it.