A Winter Dream

Chapter


Twenty-eight


Life has granted me the most operatic of circumstances.

Joseph Jacobson’s Diary





Mr. Ferrell’s and my promotions meant we’d be moving to the Leo Burnett international headquarters in Chicago. Chicago. I was apprehensive about returning, though I admit I was looking forward to seeing the look on Potts’s face when I walked back in as his boss’s boss’s boss. Definitely worth the flight.

It would not be so gratifying to confront my memories of April. I decided that rather than ignore my pain, when I got back to Chicago, I would go back to the diner and put my memories to rest.

At any rate, Mr. Ferrell wouldn’t be moving to Chicago for about three weeks, allowing enough time for him to hand over the reins of the New York agency to his successor. I planned to leave New York around the same time Mr. Ferrell did. In the meantime, there was a lot to do to prepare for the change.

Two weeks into our transition, Mr. Ferrell called me into his office.

“Joe, didn’t you say you’re from the Rocky Mountain area?”

“Colorado,” I said.

“Colorado. Perfect. We need a presence in the Rocky Mountain area and we’ve been looking at purchasing an existing agency in Utah or Colorado. There’s a Colorado agency that looks especially promising. In fact, it looks prime for the plucking.” He handed me a file. “Are you familiar with this agency?”

I looked at the sheet. My heart froze.

Jacobson Advertising and Public Relations

2001 Altura Drive, Denver, Colorado

“Yes, sir.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Just about everything,” I said. “That’s where I started. I worked there for eight years.”

Mr. Ferrell looked pleased with this revelation. “Interesting firm, Jacobson. Over the last fifteen years they’ve won practically every award possible. They used to have a stellar reputation, but over the last year their stock has plummeted.

“Our executive management team looked into it. As you know it’s a family-run business. The CEO is the father, Israel Jacobson. He’s been rather ill for the last year. With the downturn in the economy and his absence, they’ve lost their three largest accounts. If someone doesn’t save them soon, the business may go under. I’d like you to investigate the firm and see if it’s worth saving. Can you handle this for me?”

The news about my father being ill left me reeling. “I’ll do whatever you want, sir. But I should disclose that I have a conflict of interest.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Our parting was less than amicable. They forced me out of the agency.”

“No doubt one of their greatest faux pas on their way to decline,” Mr. Ferrell said.

“I’m not sure I can be totally objective.”

“You’ll be better than objective. You’ll be passionate.”

“The agency is owned by my family.”

Mr. Ferrell raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t kidding when you said you know the agency, were you?”

“No, sir.”

“Still, if it’s not too difficult, I’d like you to handle it. I have complete confidence in you. Will you do this for me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Very well. I’ll look forward to your report.”

On the way back to my office I stopped at my assistant’s desk, handing her the paper Mr. Ferrell had given me. “Krysten, I need you to contact Rupert and Simon Jacobson at this firm. They know who we are. Tell them I’d like to meet with them in our offices this Thursday afternoon.”

She looked at the paper. “Jacobson Advertising.” She looked up at me. “Jacobson. Any relation?”

“Distant,” I replied. “Very distant.”

“All right,” she said. “How long would you like me to schedule the meeting for?”

“Keep my entire afternoon open. It may go long.” I started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “Krysten, one more thing. Don’t tell them my last name. Just call me Mr. Joseph.”

She looked at me quizzically. “Why is that?”

“Simple,” I said. “I don’t want them to know who I am.”