A Winter Dream

Chapter


Seven


The greatest falls—of towers and hearts—happen when beliefs are built upon assumptions.

Joseph Jacobson’s Diary





I felt like I had stepped out of that conference room into a Salvador Dalí painting. Time was bent. Everything was surreal.

I got a box from the supply closet, then went to my office and packed my things. There was no point in finishing the copy I was writing. There was no point in finishing anything. I was finished.

As I cleared out my desk, Rupert’s secretary, Grace, delivered an envelope with my flight information, apartment lease and a severance check for three thousand dollars, presumably to help me get started. I noticed that the check was signed by Rupert, not Dan, as my paychecks were. I guessed he probably did this on his own to lessen my troubles. Or soften his guilt.

On my way out of the office I gave my sister, Diane, my office key. She was understandably confused.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Ask Simon,” I said. “He’ll be happy to tell you.”

My flight was scheduled for the next day. I drove to my apartment and packed everything I could carry in two suitcases.

There were far more details than I had time to resolve. I’d have to leave my apartment for Ben to rent out. Actually, he could just move into my apartment. He was looking for a new place and had always liked mine. He could also take my gym membership. He’d have to sell my car.

As I was making out my list, my cell phone chirped, signaling that the battery was nearly dead. I plugged in the charger, then realized the futility. I would have to get rid of it anyway. It was either that or forever ignore my mother and father’s calls. I might as well have been planning my own funeral. In a way I was. Life, as I knew it, was over.



I finished packing my bags, then drove to Ashley’s apartment for dinner. The entire drive, I puzzled over one question: How would I tell Ashley?

I had been with Ashley longer than any girlfriend I’d ever had. We’d met three years earlier at a photo shoot for a brochure I’d written. At the time, she worked as a receptionist for Uphill Down, a ski parka producer and client of ours. She was strikingly beautiful, so I wasn’t surprised when the president of the company asked her if she’d like to model some of their coats for their winter catalog.

The first time I saw her, she was wearing an all-white ski parka with matching snow pants and a white fox fur hat, all sharply in contrast to her onyx black hair, Windex blue eyes and bright, cherry red lipstick. Seeing her was practically a religious experience. The heavens parted and angels sang. It was love at first sight.

Ashley was born in Colorado and had lived in the Denver suburb of Thornton her entire life. She had graduated from CU in newspaper journalism. Unfortunately, Colorado’s newspapers were faring about as well as the rest of the country’s paper journals, and with the fall of one of Colorado’s biggest newspapers, the 150-year-old Pulitzer-winning Rocky Mountain News, she ended up first working as a waitress at an Olive Garden, then receptionist, then model. She wouldn’t be eager to move. A year earlier when I suggested she could pursue her dream of a journalism career if she applied to jobs outside of Colorado, her response was simply, “That’s not going to happen.” Now I had to tell her we were moving.



I knew Ashley well enough to know that I couldn’t tell her the real reason we had to move. She’d never understand.

And she was headstrong. I knew what she’d do with the real story—she’d go straight to my father. I had no doubt about this. Ben wasn’t a favorite of hers. She believed that he was coddled by my parents, and more than once she had expressed her opinion that he needed to suffer the consequence of his actions. I doubted that she would sacrifice living in Colorado for him.

I wasn’t even sure that she could. She was one of those people who held to justice like a life ring. It’s not that she wasn’t merciful. It’s just that her need for justice was a whole lot stronger than her desire for mercy.

On the way to her apartment I stopped to pick up some wine for dinner. We were going to need it. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration. She had even made one of my favorite dishes, spaghetti carbonara. I had been looking forward to the evening since Friday. Now I wished it were over.

Ashley smiled as I walked in. As usual, she looked stunning. Her hair was pulled back and she wore a tight black dress, her tiny waist accented with a purple sash. She met me at the door and kissed me. “How’s my conquering hero?”

I forced a smile. “Conquered.”

“Did something go wrong?”

I leaned back and looked into her face. “We’ll talk about it later.” We kissed again. “Something smells good.”

“It’s my new perfume. Dolce&Gabbana’s ‘The One.’ ”

“I meant the food. But you smell good too.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I got some of that salami you like from Giuseppe’s and, my big surprise, I made my first tiramisu.”

“Fantastico,” I said with a bad Italian accent. “I brought this.” I lifted the bottle of wine.

She studied the label. 2002 Ruffino Chianti. “Good choice. Everything’s ready. Let’s eat.”

We sat down at her small table. I uncorked the wine and filled her glass halfway. She swished the wine around, then sniffed the burgundy liquid.

“That’s nice. Fruity.”

I sipped the wine and was about to take a much-needed longer drink when Ashley said, “Wait. We should toast.”

I stopped the glass on the way to my lips. “What would you like to toast?”

“Your career, of course. No, the future.” She raised her glass. “To the future.”

“The future,” I repeated dully. I nearly drained my glass.

“So tell me about this tough day.”

“It can wait,” I said.

“No, then it will just hang over our evening like a cloud. Tell me now, then we’ll move on to having fun.”

I finished my drink, set down my glass and took a deep breath. “All right. Here it goes. I’m leaving Jacobson.”

She blinked in disbelief. “What?”

“I’ve taken a job with another firm. A bigger one.”

Her expression fell. “You’re leaving your family’s business? You’re going to own that place one day.”

“I took a job in Chicago. It’s an agency called Leo Burnett. It’s one of the biggest firms in America. There’s lots of potential. It’s a chance to—” I borrowed Simon’s words—“spread my wings.”

She looked stunned. “Chicago? What’s wrong with spreading your wings in Colorado?”

“Colorado,” I said, wading through my excuses. “It’s just too small of a market. There’s not enough sky.” I filled my glass with more wine. “This is a great opportunity.”

Ashley just stared at me. Then tears began welling up in her eyes. “You can’t do this.”

I breathed out slowly. “It’s a done deal. I’ve already accepted the job and resigned from Jacobson.”

“Then unresign.”

“You can’t unresign.”

“Of course you can. This isn’t some global conglomerate, it’s your family. You can do whatever you want!” Her lips tightened in anger. “You couldn’t have talked to me about this first?”

I didn’t know how to answer her. “I had to . . .”

“Had to? You had to what? Throw everything away? We’re here celebrating your first big campaign, your big break at your family’s firm, and now you’re leaving? Did your first success just go to your head?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer.

She took a drink of wine, then put her hand over her eyes. “I can’t believe this. Tell me you’re kidding before I melt down.”

“I’m sorry. Everything just happened so fast.”

“And how do I fit into this?”

“You’ll come with me.”

She looked at me incredulously. “I’m supposed to just pull up my roots? What about my career? Things are just starting to take off for me.”

“I know,” I said. “It’s not fair. But there will be bigger opportunities in Chicago. Chicago has some of the biggest modeling agencies in the country.”

“Like I’ll have a chance breaking into one of those?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because big-time models spend their lives becoming big-time models.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe this.”

“Ashley, just have a little faith. It’s going to be great. It’s a chance for us to strike out on our own.”

Tears began to fall down her face. She wiped her eyes and said, “With or without you, I’m not leaving Denver.”

Her words stunned me. “What?”

“I’m not leaving. Everything, everyone I love is here.”

“Except me,” I said.

“That’s your choice, not mine. If you love me, you’ll stay.”

I felt like my heart was going to stop. “You really would leave me?”

“Don’t turn this around. You’re the one leaving. If your ambition is more important than me . . .” She wiped her eyes with her napkin, then stood. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. I can’t believe it.”

“I had to.” I stood and walked up to her.

“No you didn’t.” She wiped her eyes again. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow around one.”

She let out a small gasp. “You tell me the day before?”

“Ashley . . .”

“I think you better go now.”

“I know this isn’t fair. Why don’t we wait a few months, I’ll get things settled in Chicago, then you can come out and . . .”

She looked at me quizzically. “And what?”

“Get married. Start our family.”

She looked at me with surprise. “I never said I wanted to marry you.”

“What?”

“It’s not just you. I don’t want to be contractually tied down to someone.”

“But you said you love me.”

“I do love you. But I don’t know if you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

I stared at her speechlessly.

“Joseph, we’re happy the way we are. Why would you want to get married?”

“Because I love you,” I said.

“If you love me, you’ll stay in Denver.”

Tears began to fill my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She took a deep breath before saying “Then so am I.” She covered her eyes with one hand, then said, “I think you had better go.”

“Ash . . .” I leaned forward to touch her, but she backed away. I exhaled slowly. “Okay,” I said.

She didn’t say another word to me as I left her apartment. On the drive home I thought my heart would break.

When I left the agency, I thought my world had fallen apart. But now it was completely shattered. When I pulled into my driveway, I couldn’t stop crying.