A Winter Dream - By Richard Paul Evans Page 0,50

I had changed my hairstyle, which was a much bigger thing than you might expect. My father, being a soldier during the “make love not war” sixties, abhorred “hippie hair.” So, like my brothers, I had always kept it short and above the ear. Now it touched my collar and my ears were all but invisible. My father would be aghast.

My wardrobe had changed dramatically as well—thanks to a change of scene and a company credit card. I definitely looked more suited to New York than Denver. Getting ready for work, I put on a navy blue Armani suit with a turtleneck. I doubted they’d recognize me. Honestly, I don’t think I would have recognized me.

There were also the intangibles. I once read somewhere that context is 90 percent of recognition, and my brothers certainly weren’t expecting to see me. Still, if you’ve ever read a romance novel, you know the eyes are always the giveaway.

I put on a pair of yellow-lens Ray-Ban sunglasses, then took out my Colorado driver’s license and compared visages in the mirror. A cop would definitely question my identity. I was certain that my brothers wouldn’t recognize me.

As I walked into my office, I reminded Krysten not to use my real name. An hour later she buzzed my office.

“They’re here,” she said.

My heart raced. “Show them in.”

“Right away.”

Rupert came in first. While I had worried about him recognizing me, the truth was, I almost didn’t recognize him. Actually either of them. Simon had also changed. They looked older: gray and weary, the way stress and hard times change you.

“Mr. Joseph,” Rupert said, extending his hand. “I’m Rupert Jacobson. It’s a pleasure meeting you.”

I stood, firmly taking his hand. “It’s my pleasure.” I turned to Simon, thinking he had changed even more than Rupert. “And you are?”

“Simon Jacobson,” he said, extending his hand.

I took his hand. The same hand that had given me the pen to sign my resignation. “Jacobsons. Are you brothers?”

“Yes, sir,” Simon said.

“So it’s a family business. Have a seat.”

After they were seated, Rupert said, “You have a beautiful office.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You should see the skyline at night. Last week the Empire State Building was lit green and black to celebrate the twenty-year anniversary of Wicked.” I sat down at my desk and leaned back in my chair, studying them. I wondered if, on a subconscious level, they recognized my voice. “You must forgive my glasses. I’ve just had my eyes examined. They’re dilated.”

“Of course,” Rupert said, smiling nervously. “I just thought you looked cool. Like Bono.”

Simon likewise smiled. “Me too,” he said.

“As you know,” I said, “Leo Burnett is looking at expanding into the Rocky Mountain area and we’re interested in your firm. We’ve examined your books, but I’d like to hear about your agency from you.” I turned to Rupert. “You’re the CEO?”

“No, sir. I’m the general manager.”

“Oh,” I said, feigning disappointment. “This meeting wasn’t important enough for your CEO?”

Rupert blanched. “No, sir,” he said quickly. “I mean, it was, sir. It’s just that our CEO hasn’t been well lately. He hasn’t been able to travel.”

Even though Mr. Ferrell had told me this earlier, hearing it from my brothers made it somehow more real. I took a moment to compose myself. “Your CEO isn’t well?”

“No, sir.”

I hesitated, gathering my emotions. “What’s wrong with him?”

“You might say we’ve suffered a loss in the family,” he said. “He’s not dealing with it very well.”

This news frightened me. I wondered about my mother and Ben. What if something had happened to one of them? I struggled to remain stoic. “Has there been a death?”

“No,” Rupert said. “One of his sons left home. He took it very hard.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said softly. “Losing a family member can be difficult. How about you two? It must have been difficult for you as well.”

They were both quiet.

“No?”

“It’s been very difficult,” Rupert said.

I eyed Simon. “Was it?”

He nodded.

“What is his name? This brother of yours.”

Simon looked uncomfortable. “I’m not sure that this discussion is relevant to . . .”

“Normally it wouldn’t be,” I said sternly. “But since we’re looking at purchasing a family business, I would think the state of the family would be extremely relevant to our investigation, wouldn’t you, Mr. Jacobson?”

He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “Yes, sir. My apologies. I just didn’t want to get too personal.”

“The nature of this investment is personal. What is your brother’s name?”

“It’s Joseph, sir,” Simon said.

“And why did he leave?”

Long silence. Then Simon said,