My excitement drained nearly as fast as it had come. I looked at him anxiously.
“With me leaving, I’m afraid there won’t be a place for you here in the New York office.”
I fought back my disappointment and surprise. “I’m sorry to hear that. I thought things were going well.”
“And they have been,” he said. “But if business has taught me anything, it’s that nothing is as constant as change.” He looked at me for a moment, then said, “I hope losing your job here doesn’t stifle your creative flow, because I’d like you to come with me as the new Global Chief Creative Officer for Leo Burnett Worldwide.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You’re promoting me?”
Grinning, he opened the bottle of champagne and poured it into the glasses on his desk. “Of course I am.” He lifted both glasses and then walked around the desk to the front, offering one of the glasses to me. “You’ll be my number one.”
I was speechless.
“We work well together,” Mr. Ferrell said. “I’m no fool. The Florence Initiative is the main reason I got the promotion. And we’ve just begun. I believe that the two of us can fulfill my dream of a creative renaissance—not just for Leo Burnett, but for the whole world.”
“I believe so too, sir.”
“I know. You’re a dreamer like me.”
I held up my glass. “To the dream.”
“No,” Mr. Ferrell said, holding up his glass. “To the dreamers.”
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?”