Leah's Choice

Chapter 1-2

Leah threw her head back and laughed, a smile as bright as day across her face. She made fists and pumped them back and forth in the air. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! We did it!" She threw her arms around Asa as he grasped at her, the unexpectedness of her exuberance catching him unaware.

He laughed as he hugged her and placed her back down on the ground. "Hey, now. Wait a minute. So far all we've done is make a great product. That's the easiest part of this whole thing. You know what I'm going to say next, don't you?"

Leah nodded her head in large sweeping motions, her emotions coming back down to earth. She knew better than to get her hopes up yet. Creating a fantastic product was only one hurdle to jump. The hardest would be convincing her grandfather to take the giant leap of putting a new product on the market. "Yup, the rest is up to you and granddad. Do you think you can convince him, Ace?"

He lifted one eyebrow and glanced down at her. "This is pretty darned good stuff. It would be hard to pass up the opportunity with such a great-tasting product. I mean, quinoa that tastes good? How can you go wrong?"

She punched a poking finger into his shoulder. "You see? I told you that French honey would make a big difference."

He chuckled. "You did. Now the hardest part will be persuading Ben and your grandfather that we should go this way. Ben, I have no doubt about. Your grandpa? Hmm, well, I'll give it my best shot. Maybe we'll have Ben do the persuading for us."

Leah couldn't help but let her face droop a bit at the thought of Ben Stratton. It bothered her immensely that they would be beholden to Ben if this cereal were a success. Although she denied it even to herself, deep down, she wasn't over Ben. When Asa looked at her downcast face, she knew he saw her moment of hesitation when he'd spoken Ben's name. He was a good enough friend to just grin and say nothing. God, she loved Liam Sager and Asa Grossman. How had she been lucky enough to make friends with two guys in high-school who she could honestly say were lifelong friends? They'd been like the three musketeers for ten years and were always available when or if she needed help.

She gathered the rest of the dirty equipment that needed cleaning before they finished for the night. The clock read a quarter-to-two. That wasn't so late on a Friday night. She waved a hand in the air. "I'll let you handle that part, Ace. If it comes from me, both of them will shoot down the idea. If it comes from within the company, it'll have a much better shot. Make sure you don't mention anything about me, or it will be doomed to failure. I've done my bit. If it helps out the Loven's name, then that's all that matters."

Asa came from behind and hugged her head under his chin. "You're a good egg, Leah Loven. Your granddad doesn't know what a gem he has in you."

She grinned. No, he didn't, but she loved him and the business all the same. She loved Asa and Liam too. They were just as much family to her as the Lovens or her mother's family, as quirky as they could be. She was blessed, and she knew it. A tear fell from the corner of one eye. She was getting all emotional. It must be getting late.

Confident footfalls echoed in the corridor leading to the CEO's office within Loven's Challah and Bakery Headquarters. Ben Stratton, the youthful, vibrant executive vice-president of operations, flashed a smile at Mabel, the president's long-time administrative assistant, as he stepped closer to the older man's office. Just as he raised his hand to knock, a bellowing yell came from inside.

"Mabel, get me some of those fizzy things for indigestion, will you?" It was impossible to mistake Mordecai Loven for anyone else. He had a booming voice and a personality to match.

Mabel rose from her desk and started towards the coffee area, popping her head in the door to the office. "I'll get it for you right away, Mr. Loven. Also, Mr. Stratton is here to see you."

The tone of Morty Loven's voice dropped some of its irritation as he said, "Send him in, send him in."

Ben stepped into the office and left the door open slightly. He was a tall man and liked to think of himself as poised and self-assured, but something about Morty Loven always put him a bit on edge. He didn't know if it was the overwhelming sense of history Loven and his father had through years of doing business together or the gratitude he felt to have such a good job at a well-established company. He'd taken his father's place when he passed away from cancer a year and a half ago and had been working hard to establish Morty Loven's trust ever since. He was consistently thinking of innovative ways to help the business out of the doldrums it had recently been experiencing.

Ben stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the older, balding man hunched over his desk and a stack of legal documents.

"All this legal mumbo-jumbo gets mind-numbing, don't you think, Stratton?" Mr. Loven asked.

"Yes, sir. Legal issues can be quite difficult to sort through. Do you need some help?"

Loven looked up from the papers to look Ben straight in the eye. "No, no. Just some last-minute arrangement of assets on some personal things. You gotta keep your own house tidy, too, you know."

Ben nodded, falling back on his heels and trying not to seem cocky.

"Speaking of, when are you going to settle down and get yourself a family going? You know your mother is gung-ho for grandchildren, don't you?"

Ben smiled, trying to see the humor in this situation. It wasn't every day your boss told you to find a woman. "Yes, sir, I know. Perhaps I'll snatch up the next woman I see. Maybe Mabel?"

"Don't be ridiculous. She's old enough to be your grandmother."

"Yes, sir," Ben nodded and paced to the corner of the old stuffy office, going to the wall to scan some of the old pictures he admired. There was a picture of Morty and his father, Morty dressed in a baker's whites, hands white with flour, their arms around each other's shoulders, a stern-looking Jewish father behind them, the founder of the bakery. The younger men were all smiles. It warmed Ben's heart to know that his boss was once also a wide-eyed young man filled with dreams.

At that moment, Mabel came in carrying a glass filled with bicarbonate of soda, fizzing away within the water and a second glass with plain water. She set both on Mr. Loven's desk.

"Here you go, Mr. Loven. Fizzy to help your digestion," she said.

The old man nodded and rolled his chair closer to the desk to take a closer look and lifted the glass up to inspect. He raised it higher yet in Ben's direction. "Well, down the hatch," he said, drinking the still-fizzing liquid in only a few swallows. He finished with a satisfying "Ahh, mother's milk."

"Not feeling well, sir?" Ben asked.

The old man made a fist and pressed it against his chest. "Nope. Been happening a lot lately. Probably those veggies my wife keeps shoving down my throat."

"Perhaps you should make an appointment with a doctor, Mr. Loven. It might be something more serious."

"Now you sound like my wife. What did you want to talk about, Stratton? You must've had a reason to come in here to see me," the old man said. He rested his hands over his extended mid-section, sitting back in his chair to look at Ben pacing the room.

"Ah, yes, sir," Ben's eyes brightened. Finally, he'd get to talk about the new recipe. He would do his best to convince the older man, so set in his ways, to take a chance on this new cereal line. The samples Asa had brought Ben had been quite delicious, and he could see the wisdom of producing a healthy kosher cereal alternative.

"I wanted to talk to you about a new recipe Asa Grossman has recently brought to me. You know how he's always monkeying around with new product ideas to develop."

"Mmhm, yes, I know," the old man said, nodding his head.

"He brought me the most delicious samples today of a new loop cereal recipe that's all healthy, created from a base of a superfood, quinoa."

"Quinoa? Why that stuff tastes like old shoe leather left to shrivel in the rain," Loven said.

Ben took his hands out of his pockets and leaned over the front of the old man's desk, his fingertips resting on the desk's surface. "Under usual circumstances, sir, I'd agree with you completely. This cereal, however, has a unique flavor profile that has made what normally tastes disgusting into something delightful. I think you would be most impressed, sir. I certainly was."

The old man shook his head. "I don't think we should stray from the old ways at this tenuous time for the business."

"But sir, perhaps this is the best time to take a step in a new direction, explore new horizons," Ben said.

"Now you're starting to sound like my grand-daughter. She's a pretty girl, you know. You couldn't do better."

"I'm sure, sir," Ben said. Now he was getting off-track. He didn't want to think about his boss's grand-daughter, the curvaceous and delightful Leah Loven, right now. He'd gone out with her a time or two in the past, but they always seemed to end up arguing. When she never called him back, he gave up the effort. Right now, he needed to keep the subject on the new recipe and bringing new ideas to Loven's Bakeries or the company, or his job could disappear in the mist. "If we could get back on the topic of the cereal. Would you at least be willing to give it a taste?"

"You think Asa has hit a winner, do you? That boy knows how to cook, that's for sure." The old man's hands went to his chin, and he stared off into a corner of his office, contemplating something. "Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt to take a bite or two. You know it would cost a pretty penny to ramp up to production, don't you?"

Ben stood up and put his hands in his pockets again. "I've run the numbers myself, sir, and although there are certainly some initial costs up-front, I believe we can make a profit and repay those expenses in record time if we market the cereal correctly, perhaps bring in some side investors and ..."

The old man slapped his hand on his desk and abruptly stood from his chair. His face had blossomed into three shades of red. His teeth clenched, he said, "No, absolutely not! This is a Loven-family company, and it will remain so as long as I have breath in my body."

Ben's eyes grew wide, and he took a hesitant step away from Mr. Loven's desk. He'd heard about the man's infamous temper but hadn't ever witnessed it himself. He'd been lucky so far, but perhaps he'd pushed things too far.

After making his declaration of dominance, Morty Loven sat back down in his chair, and the color drained from his face. "I'm sorry to sound so harsh, Ben," he said. Once again he sat up at his desk, steepled his hands in front of him, then formed his hands into a united fist. "I know you mean well, young man, but I feel very strongly about certain things. I don't want to see outside investors. You understand that, don't you? This needs to remain a Loven business, even after I'm dead and gone, even if you are at the helm."

Ben's face broke out into a polite smile. The old man wasn't the curmudgeon everyone made him out to be. He had a love for his family and for his business that overshadowed every other aspect of his life. He could understand the older man's concerns. He'd all but said that Ben would take over for him when he retired or passed away, which was good news for Ben. His father had given him a legacy in this company, and he wanted to do right by the wishes of the two young men in the photo on the wall.

"Yes, sir, I understand completely," Ben said, nodding his head.

"Good. Why don't you set up a time with Mabel for you to bring some samples for me to taste tomorrow? We'll discuss the concept of a new cereal line again, don't you worry," he said. The old man took up his pen and the pile of legal papers he'd been reading when Ben arrived. "I've got to see to these legal matters before the end of the day. You can't put off until tomorrow what you've got to do, or you'll end up putting off your whole life through."

Ben had heard that saying many times in his life and grinned at hearing it again. "Yes, sir. Until tomorrow," he said and made his way out of the office, closing the door behind him.

Morty Loven mused about the thoughtfulness of the young man who had taken over operations from his father. He was such a handsome gent, like his father had been, exactly what the girls were looking for these days, tall and dark with jet black hair slicked back the way he always did. The man was smooth and elegant, so precise in his movements in his dark blue three-piece suits and matching ties, socks and hankies. He imagined, just for a minute, if he and Leah married, their babies would be gorgeous little Jews with dark, dark hair like Ben's, but with her deep dark brown eyes. But Ben was more than just a pretty face. He was so much like his father, a chip off the old block.

Ben was diligent, courageous and attentive and had made the choice to follow in his father's footsteps. He was, in short, precisely what he wanted for his grand-daughter, Leah. He signed the legal documents in front of him, assuring the connection between the two of them, whether they wanted it or not. They would one day be forced to deal with each other, and he hoped that God would smile upon them and grow his company beyond his wildest dreams.

When he'd signed the documents, he leaned back in his chair and thought he should go home when suddenly an intense pain started in his chest and radiated to his left arm. It was becoming difficult to breathe, and he knew, without question, what the pain was. Memories of his life flashed before his eyes: his beautiful wife when they'd wed, the look on her face when they'd made love, the sight of his first-born son when they'd laid him in his arms, his friend, Noah Stratton and himself, working at the old bakery with his father looking on. He would see his father soon; he had no doubt. This wasn't how he'd envisioned going, but he knew this was his last glimpse of life. He said a silent prayer, closed his eyes and slumped over in his chair.