The Magnificent Lives of Marjorie Post by Allison Pataki

Author:Allison Pataki [Pataki, Allison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2022-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

New York City

We hoped for a boy. We told everyone that we wanted a son together. Having already birthed two daughters, I was certain, as my condition progressed, that this time felt different. That this time it would be a son, and we would call him Ned, Jr. We could not believe how wrong we were.

Our little girl came out plump, strong, and pink, with startlingly blue eyes and downy wisps of golden hair. She arrived in the last few days of December, one final and best Christmas present, a gift for the whole family to carry into the New Year.

Since we had already planned to call the baby Ned, we decided to name her Nedenia, and the family nickname quickly became Deenie. I loved all of my girls madly, of course, but I had to admit that this third daughter of mine was exquisite, her rosy little face such a lovely blend of mine and that of the man I adored—she was ours, she was the product of our love; only with nature’s brilliant improvements. I was infatuated, and so were Ned and the girls.

While we were still basking in the glow of our growing brood, our family was also preparing for another meaningful birthday: the Post Cereal Company was marking its thirtieth year, and it continued to soar. The next New Year’s Eve found us toasting our most successful year yet, with our company president joining us for a private dinner at our home. “Colby,” Ned said, “we owe you our thanks. And Marjie, my dear, here’s to 1925.”

It was over his postdinner cigar and brandy that Ned laid out his ambitions for the coming years. Custom dictated that I should have excused myself from the dining room, leaving the men to their drinks and business talk at the table while I retired to the drawing room for the proper and ladylike postdinner tea or sherry. But both Colby and Ned knew that I wanted to be part of the company conversation, and in fact, it appeared as though my husband wished to enlist my opinions. “Marjie, it’s been thirty great years since your daddy changed breakfast for America.”

Colby and I both nodded, agreeing.

“We are now so much more than just breakfast,” Ned went on. “And we are poised to grow accordingly.” I liked how he said it—I liked that he said we would grow, to be sure, but also how he said we. Ned truly thought of my company as his, as well. We were a partnership, with my Post family legacy not a source of frustration or even embarrassment—as I’d so often felt it to be for Ed—but his cause also. Why, he’d given up the control of his own firm, resigning from that post in order to make my company his purpose, and he’d taken to it with mastery.

Ned exhaled now, a fragrant wreath of tobacco smoke encircling his relaxed smile as he said: “I’m thinking a veritable food empire. More than cereal, more than the Postum drink.

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