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 Chapter I

It couldn’t have been a bleaker day. The blistering wind was blowing finely severed granules of snow with a biting force instantly icing the face of brave souls who were crazy enough to venture out into the oppressive climate.  Louise turned abruptly to her demanding toddler, and stoically announced they would be plunging into the harsh elements for an afternoon of delightful, yet frigid ice-skating. Grabbing Izzy's grimy winter coat, layering him with his plushest scarf, red furry mittens, and black water-proof boots, they set out to find some happy experience in this most dreaded day. Vigorously slamming the front door of their two bedroom Manhattan apartment, Louise trusted she would be able to distract her mind from the seemingly insurmountable problems of the family business. Between the bitter cold, and the constant attention Izzy, her five year old son, needed, she would surely be preoccupied, at least for the afternoon.

            Earlier that Sunday morning, Jake awoke at his usual ungodly predawn hour. Never mind that it was Sunday, and the temperature could freeze the inside of your lips within ten seconds, he had to leave. He had work that must be attended to or there would not be a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, or for that matter, any business day left of his family’s waning company. Dressing himself in thermals, jeans, and a worn Eddie Bauer red plaid shirt, Jake ventured out of the warm apartment into the street. He hated leaving Louise and Izzy on Sunday. His passion for his son and wife was unconditional, but he knew that saving the family business was paramount to the security and well-being of his own family. Pacing outside the upper eastside brick building, Jake impatiently waited for the appearance of his brother. Perfectly on time, Clark arrived in his newly leased oversized SUV, which reflected the image Susan, his wife, had so carefully selected. Clark's wife did not believe in keeping up with the Jones's. She truly believed she was the Jones's! With a somber grimace, Jake gave Clark a perfunctory nod as he hastily slid into the passenger seat. Ever the astute brother, Clark had stocked the car with steaming hot coffee, and Jake's favorite bagel slathered with cream cheese. After thirty years, Clark knew his brother was in a much healthier state of mind if his stomach was properly filled, and today anything that would prove to be comforting and would aid in lessening the massive anxiety they faced together, would be worth the extra effort. New York City, especially in the dead of winter, seemed to reflect the tone of the season. Few if any pedestrians were negotiating the snow-laden sidewalks, as a scant amount of cars traversed the pot-holed laden streets. That day there was a feeling of quiet solitude in a city where bustling was always the norm.

            Neither brother uttered a word as they drove to the factory; they had a daunting situation to face, fraught with uncertainty. Both brothers had families, children, private schools, the ubiquitous mortgages, maids, and the proper pedigreed pets.  They did not want to loose the one thing they held dearer than their wives and children- the loss of a family business. One hundred years old. How can we salvage this god forsaken clothing company? They wondered.

            Louise’s distracted state made her leave the apartment in hurried fashion, so much so, she had forgotten the ice-skates. Grabbing Izzy’s hand they reentered the yellow washed brick building, flung open the gray metal door, and yanked the purpose for their outing; the ice-skates. Entering the crowded elevator the morning dog walkers were assembled and ready to go. Mrs. Grant, whose short fluffy dog closely resembled her hair do, and then there was Mr. Silas, whose dog seemed to have the same swagger as his owner. Only in New York, do the contained dogs seem to reflect so many nuances of their owners, one can only guess how these pets are fed let alone how they are entertained.

            There was that ridiculous Ms. Pratt, who gave her dog that same bloody manicure she received. Why look at the dog’s toe nails! They are painted bright red, the same red that coated her owner’s wrinkled liver-spotted hands. Decadent! Living in this environment, Louise hoped Izzy would learn to think straight, and that he would understand the insanity of all this absurdity. It seemed as though New Yorkers saw themselves as players in a Fellini film, not wishing to disappoint their audience. Dressed in a coyote coat, with matching earmuffs, and rhinestone-studded gloves, Ms. Pratt would surely be playing her part well today. Where the hell does she buy those contraptions?  pondered Louise, she must seek the far ends of the Manhattan to purchase such bobbles.

            The frigid air knocked Louise out of her caddy stupor, and into the now busy streets of the city. Louise’s thin five foot-four inch frame held a thick head of curly brown hair twirling and flying every way as the cold winds and snow pricked at her sharp nose.  Crying from the wintry air, she reminded Izzy of the grand time they had in front of them. It was only a few short blocks to the local ice-skating rink, as they gallantly charged forward in the sunshine and the biting cold air. “Ok, answered Izzy, “As long as there is a hot chocolate waiting for me at the end.”                               Now who could deny a son, especially one as adorable as Izzy, such an anticipated treat? Izzy’s eyes were truly baby blue, and his mound of ringlets could compete with Italian versions of sweet babes in arms. Louise was not, nor would ever remotely be the perfect mother, nor ever be referred to as mother earth, but she did love her son. Appeasement was simply an essential part in making that happen. 

            “Hot chocolate it will be,” she said, as her teeth commenced to chatter, “as soon as we arrive.” Just then her curly haired son sneezed a loud, messy sneeze, one only a toddler can do so well. Bending down to clean up what seemed to be a mile of mucus Louise knocked him in the nose with the sharp serrated edge of her skate. Blood everywhere! Pulling all the new and used tissues from her pockets, forcing her cherub to stand still, she began mopping up the blood that seemed to be spurting at an unexpected devastatingly rapid rate. Both crying loudly, they hurried to a bench at the edge of the rink, waiting patiently for the leakage to cease, and the shock to wear down.

            Louise had sunk to a new low. Wanting to be the perfect mother, she almost killed her kid on a simple outing! “Oh God can it get any worse,” she screamed.  Her husband, off with his brother, to conjure a way to salvage his business, her darling son bleeding profusely, and she hating her job that she had spent years training for. “What was this life all about?” she questioned. Did she need to make a change? She was quite sure that her parenting wasn't going to improve. She predicted her few mothering instincts would probably degenerate as Izzy quickly figured out how to easily maneuver around her unsuspecting mind. She felt compelled do something, to make a difference in the family, something that counted. It sure wasn’t motherhood. Turning thirty, perhaps she needed to change her life. Perhaps it was time she stopped living in the shadows of her husband and be resolved to do something valuable for him and the family business.

            The bleeding finally ceased; both Louise and son were able to enjoy the balance of the day in what often was referred to the quintessential day in the life a young child trapped inside the island of Manhattan. Later they did share the promised hot chocolate, although Izzy did not seem as excited about its taste. They made endless rounds on the ice, with the brisk winds serving more as an impetus, then a determent. “I have had enough,” announced Louise. Not waiting for her son’s concurrence, they immediately began changing their ice-laden skates, albeit blood tipped, to toastier, street shoes for the eternal walk home. Izzy anticipated his mom’s mood. He sensed her unhappiness, and he knew in this precarious state he could probably ask for and receive almost anything. Settling on a late afternoon lunch, he loudly said that he was hungry, “Let’s go to the Hole With the Chicken restaurant.” A reasonable request, they set their sites on four city blocks, walking at a hastened pace. Food, warmth, and playtime were just around the corner for this toddler of the city

Returning to the apartment, the room seemed unusually still. It was Sunday, the one day they all spent together and dad was no where to be seen. Grabbing the oversized edition of the Sunday Times, Louise scouted, as she did every weekend, for the latest in everything: clothing, shoes, the perfect make-up, and the proper jewelry. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t afford all those luxuries; just being in the midst of the fashion capital of the world sufficed as the purpose for the relentless search for utter perfection. Informed of all the refinements embedded in the New York life style, when the business struck pay dirt, she would be poised and ready to make those purchases.

I am sequestered in a private room at Elizabeth Arden. “The works,” I uttered most profoundly to my assigned beauty consultant for the day. “I need a total redo, just short of plastic surgery.” Oh as I bathe in layers of vegetables, and body oils, I need to think of my first stop for refinement: shall it be Bendels, Saks, or shall I hop in a cab and ransack the racks of Barneys. These decisions are simply too overwhelming for one to make while lying in milk/tulip water," she daydreams.

The front door slowly cracked open. Jake’s head was hung low, resembling a duck that had just had his wings clipped. He was not totally dead, but not living a masterful life. Louise’s day- dreams spontaneously combusted as she assessed the depth of Jake’s mood. Never had she seen him in total despondency, he could hardly utter the activities of his day.  The one thing that Louise was certain of was her intense love for her husband; she allowed her love for him to be the binding ties to her life and nothing had as much value or meaning as her love for Jake. Izzy, her career, her family, always came second to Jake’s happiness. On this bleak winter day, Louise found herself unable to alter the desolate situation that her beloved was so unattainably involved with- the demise of a family business.

            Sunday ended with the usual, pizza, and beer, and then off to bed for Izzy. After their son was fast asleep, Louise pried Jake for a solution to the daunting problem. She wanted to help her husband, and the business, but the question was how. Both endured a sleepless night, replete with agonizing thoughts as to their future. It was the first time Jake seemed inconsolable-there was no instant cure for this seemingly insurmountable problem. Louise loved her husband passionately, more than reason could escape. Nothing could surpass her deep unrelenting love she had for him, and there was nothing that she wouldn’t do for him. Her love lacked reason, she unabashedly gave her heart, never questioning or wondering if there was another mate for herself. When others jealously referred to her husband as her soul mate, she would retaliate, “What I found is my soul.”

Resolutely, Louise promised to call Roberta, Jake’s mom, first thing Monday morning. Maybe between the two of them they could come up a plan the menfolk were unable to visualize.

            Roberta, Jake’s mother, was born and bred in Brooklyn, raised with the propriety of a virtuous Jewish girl. The five-foot-nine- inch brunette promptly fell in love on the first day of her first day of college. Hysterical, Roberta’s mom, resolved herself that her one and only child would marry an Italian man, in the garment business of all things! Ignoring her parent’s plea, the next day Roberta promptly changed her last name as the judge decreed them: John and Roberta Aaron,  husband and wife for as long as they both should live.

            Grand as Roberta envisioned her passage into womanhood, John, her now loyal and endearing husband, would prove more than a handful for the lackluster sexual knowledge she brought to the marriage. The bride was a beauty in supreme nature; dark brown eyes, shiny long flowing chocolate hair, and a bow-lipped mouth that begged for constant kisses. But John’s passion for his new wife started and ended with his obsession for her legs, often spending more time on them during their lovemaking, than the more conventional zones. But what set her apart from other women were her sharp-witted intellect, and a savvy style she engendered on any given topic. She held the true essence of a woman’s intuition; she could make logic and sense out of any situation, however absurd. A gift for gab, and memory for every word she had ever heard, made her the perfect dinner companion. Any topic during the entire spectrum of polite conversation could be easily supplanted and rightfully construed as valuable, once Roberta had labeled it so. She saw every individual as worthy of respect and charm was her stellar persona. Roberta’s beauty emulated through her heart, her eyes, and yes from the long slim perfectly proportioned legs.

            Being the good Jewish wife, she catered to her husband's Italian values and she failed horribly on the use of birth control. Seven years later, and four sons later, she found herself looking for a more foolproof plan. As the last of her offspring was headed to college, her days were empty- no more endless laundry, grocery shopping or motherly affairs. She found herself with time for her! “Now what to do!” she questioned. Self-scrutiny led her to enroll at the Fashion Institute of Technology, thereby making her the oldest student in class, but definitely the most obsessed. It wasn’t difficult for her to come to this conclusion: she had a zeal for fashion and her husband owned one of the largest men’s wear factories in New York. All Roberta needed to do was to convince John that she was serious about the clothing business. This wasn’t a haphazard plan to whittle away empty hours, this was going to be her achievement. Two years at FIT, winning the top designer awards, and a straight A average was enough evidence to convince John that she was determined and talented enough to take on Seventh Avenue. On a bright September morning Roberta Aaron entered Aaron Men’s Clothiers, and set up shop.

            The premier spring collection consisted solely of a three- piece seersucker skirt suit, and a two-piece bat winged dress. Limited supplies and use of the pattern maker made for a succinct collection, but one that had promise. Roberta was a visionary, her insight spoke to her earnestly, You can do this. You can be successful, and you will be! Just get someone who will work their ass off to sell the product!

            Monday morning, Louise sung her son awake to face another lengthy day at preschool, while she prepared to make a significant phone call to Roberta. Unlike any married friend she had ever encountered, Louise actually loved her mother-in-law, and would do anything needed to aid the family. With Izzy immersed in school, Louise opened up her breakfast of bagel and coffee, lifted up the receiver, and timidly phoned Roberta at the factory. “Mrs. Aaron,” requested Louise hesitatingly. Before Louise could explore second thoughts, she offered her services to Roberta as a salesperson and an aid to developing the women’s collection. Friday morning, Louise tendered her resignation at the accounting firm, and on the following Saturday morning, she officially became the selling force of Aaron’ Women’s Collection. Louise never looked back; she was young, ambitious, and had her entire life to look forward to.  The company could not have been in a worse economic situation, and all she could do was enhance the family business. Maybe Louise wasn’t a knight in shining armor, but she would use every drop of energy to save her husband’s business. She would make her husband smile again. Maybe the factory would be cutting skirts instead of pants, but they would be cutting something………………………..

            She was standing in the background as the slender models pranced down the runway excitedly applauding the latest creations of the Aaron collection. The high intensity of the crowd escalated, the roaring sounds of whistles and cheers filled the auditorium while cameras snapped a multitude of photos. The flashing bulbs blinded Roberta’s and Louise’s eyes as they took their bows for the first collection/ Bravo! Bravo! Women’s Wear Daily screamed, “Yes! Yes!” While the Saks Fifth Avenue buyer ran onto the stage with an order pad waving in her hand. Flowers were thrown, and the crowd stood to continue their accolades, all hands weary from vibrant applause! Yes! Yes!

            “Mom,” demanded Izzy, grabbing his mom’s arm. “It’s Saturday, remember you promised we would go see dad at the factory.” Jarred suddenly from her daydreams, Louise quickly donned her Saturday attire of blue jeans, a pastel wool sweater, and a worn brown suede jacket. Primping more than usual, she wanted to begin looking the part of a Seventh Avenue salesperson. This was her first official business meeting with her new boss/mother-in-law, and Louise wanted to emulate a strong sense of duty and professionalism. Today, they would begin to fulfill a dream, Roberta’s wish to create her own collection, and Louise’s wish to make her husband happy, and secure their financial futures.

            Grabbing a cab, they were quickly flying through the pot-holed filled city streets. The ride resembled a version of a theme park roller coaster. The brisk morning quickly awakened her spirit and the senses, as she rode with great anticipation of her meeting. Izzy loved the factory, the attention, playing endlessly on the carts, ladders, and racks, and the ubiquitous snacking with his grandpa. Izzy was truly the apple of his grandparents’ and uncle’s eyes. Louise was secretly hoping that John, (her father-in-law), would have extra time for his grandson today. "Stop here," Louise shouted. The cab lurched forward, dumping them in front of the building, 200 Fifth Avenue. "Mom," pointed Izzy, "See that's the building that looks like a flat iron, at least that’s what grandpa says."

            Roberta greeted Louise with a warm motherly kiss, directing her into a tiny alcove, and then handed Izzy over to his father, “Take care of your son for an hour,” Roberta admonished.              And so Roberta commenced explaining her plans sharing all her hopes, dreams and anticipations of grandeur. Louise, listening intently, concurred, and pronounced herself ready, willing, and able to handle the momentous task. Agreed upon goals, Roberta grabbed Louise’s hand and began the tour of the cavernous factory. This time the tour was different, this time, Louise would play a major part in keeping the factory working. She would be responsible keeping the workers employed, resulting in food on the tables for over five hundred families. Scanning the ten-thousand square foot floor, Louise’s panned hundreds of sewing machines poised for action, with no cuttings prepared for production. A veritable ghost town of well-oiled archaic sewing needles silently cried out to be in operation.  The other forty thousand square feet of factory space was listless, void of the once bustling activity. Dust and cobwebs had replaced fabric, buttons, voluminous mounds of linings, and interior jacket canvasses. The smell of musty air was slowly replacing the sharp tinge of heated oil cloth as it intertwined with the hissing of the oversized pressing machines.  This was an awesome responsibility, but it could and would be done; determination had its hold on the will of the Aaron women. As far as the eye could see, Roberta pointed out hundreds of thousands of plaid fabrics; this was where the plan would commence, spinning gold out of those raw materials.

"No wonder why the Irish and English are always fighting," laughed Louise. “Just look at all these contrasting plaids. If someone wanted to settle the political strife in those two countries, they should hire a designer to coordinate all the plaids so they work together!"

            “There were over two hundred thousand yards, just of those tartans!” said Roberta. Walking further, they reviewed thousands of yards of cotton plush velvets, worsted pinstripes, solid worsted flannels, and endless yards of fine English patterns. There was a seemingly limitless supply of unprecedented beautiful fabrics. Few if any of these fabrics had ever been used on Seventh Avenue. Roberta took hold of Louise’s arm, and pointed upward so she could begin to ascertain the immense amount of raw materials available.” Nothing, but our imaginations could stop us,” pronounced the elder Mrs. Aaron. “We are in piece goods heaven!” Louise’s accounting mind quickly noted several million dollars in sales needed to use up the vast quantities of goods. “What do you think know?” questioned Roberta. Responding quickly, Louise stated that it was time to allow those plaids a place on Seventh Avenue. The question of the hour was how?

            “Why in the world would anyone purchase sooooooooooo many yards of plaids?” questioned Louise.  She knew John, Roberta’s husband, was colorblind. What was he thinking, or doing the moment he signed the contract? It must have taken either two bottles of of Irish whiskey, or one very enticing saleswoman to complete the task of that enormous sale.  Knowing John’s reputation, it wasn’t difficult to imagine him in the clinches of another woman- almost any other woman. What was he thinking? Would those fabrics make twelve million plaid jock straps to place prodigiously underneath the Christmas tree, or eight million scarves to sell at Macys?  Regardless, the two women had the arduous task, of undoing the mess John had begun.

            The tour completed, both women grabbed their cold coffee and began the process of designing. Roberta was the true professional designer, in addition to obtaining a degree at FIT, she had spent decades scouring every designer store from the base to the tip of Manhattan and had sharpened her taste. No store had been missed, from the large department stores, to the infiltration of the miniscule boutiques; all had been reverently probed and scrutinized. Her mind had catalogued thousands of designs. Not unlike a computer simulator, Roberta could retrieve the designs, altering them for fabric selections, and then reshuffle them into a coordinated package that could bode well upon presentation. Limited in time, the entire collection would have to be cut and sewn within a week to allow the fall buyers a timely viewing. Mrs. Aaron’s confident walk, earnest, but softly spoken voice, assured Louise that they could be successful. A model at heart, and stunning looks to match, Roberta was appealing to anyone whom she met. She could arouse the interest in any man, and women loved her as they were instantly drawn to her authentic beauty and passion. The partnership of mother and daughter-in-law seemed perfectly complementary: Roberta would design, and Louise would market and sell.

            The lengthy tour of the factory startled Louise into the realization of the daunting task that lie ahead, and the overwhelming sense of duty to fulfill the dream of success. Yes, this was Roberta’s aspiration to make it big on designer row, but Louise felt a compassion to the workers; she wanted to insure they would be able to feed their families, and she wanted success for the sake of the factory workers, not only her own self-pride. Would these two brown hair beauties find success? That was the quandary that only time would prove…………………………………….