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.”
CHAPTER
Twenty-nine
Even a broken heart can still hold love.
Joseph Jacobson’s Diary
I hardly slept Wednesday night. My emotions ranged wildly. My brothers had sent me out into the wilderness. I should have hated them for what they did, but if they hadn’t banished me, I never would have achieved what I had. I never would have become creative director of one of the world’s largest advertising agencies. Nor would I have met April. Considering how much I had suffered over losing her, that may not seem like a good thing. But even as painful as our separation was, I still would have chosen to meet her. To have felt her love, even for the short time I had it, was better than to not know that such love existed. At least that’s what I told myself.
No matter my brothers’ intent, no matter the pain they’d inflicted on me, I was grateful for what they had done. But that had little to do with the purchasing of the advertising agency. The bigger question was, could I work with them? And that depended on the biggest question of all: Given the chance, would they do what they had done again? Had they remorse for sending me away? That was what would determine whether or not we could work together.
Ultimately, their hearts would determine their fates.
Thursday morning, as I was shaving, I took a good look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I had changed a lot in the last three years. Not just mentally and emotionally, but physically as well. I inventoried those changes. I had lost weight and grown more muscular. More angular.