vibe. “With any luck, this time next year, I’ll be taking home an ADster for the work that brought Patone to the forefront of consumer consciousness.”
Joss’s jaw clenched at the dig. She hadn’t crashed Hugh’s brunch with the intention of preying on his client—not that she had enough information on Stanley to bid for his business yet, anyway—but she didn’t have to help Hugh win the account for himself, either. “Mr. Patone—”
“Stanley, please.”
“I just had an interesting thought. What about a female ad executive? If you go with Kimmerman, I’m sure Hugh can recommend someone wonderful.”
Hugh folded his arms across his chest. “Interesting is one word for it.”
She kept her attention on Stanley. “Most power-tool consumers are men, and you, the manufacturers, are all competing for the same buyers. But imagine if your campaign was aimed at women. Bring in that market, and you’re a leg up on the competition already.”
Under his breath, Hugh mumbled something about ads in pink fonts, but not loudly enough to alienate his potential client. “We can certainly explore that idea if you’re interested, Stanley, but I have to say, ignoring your target market is risky at best. Practically speaking, how many women do we think spend their disposable income on power tools?”
He turned to Joss, his eyebrows raised in an expression of mild curiosity. “You, for instance, just as a demographic example. Would you know the difference between a skill saw and a reciprocating saw?”
One of the fundamental rules of gunning for an account was demonstrating familiarity with the product, and everyone at the table knew Joss had never heard of Patone before today. Hugh’s attempt to discredit her was simple, but delicately handled. An allout assault on her credentials would seem like bullying, and besides, she sensed he saw her more as an annoyance than a real threat to be feared.
“No, I guess I’m not the reigning expert on saws. Or drills, or wrenches.” Eyes innocently wide, she smiled at Hugh. “I admit it. When people think tool, you’re what comes to mind.”
He blinked, and she turned away quickly, appealing to Stanley. “But I did spend hours yesterday in home-improvement stores and can give you a female’s perspective, if you’re interested. I can also tell you that the popularity of home-makeover shows can be used to attract women.”
She outlined a few of her thoughts, expounding on how and why women could be a valuable asset, especially when they were Christmas and birthday shopping for the men in their lives.
Vivian returned to the table, zipping her cell phone back into her purse. “What did I miss?”
Ever charming, Hugh rose to pull her chair out, but his smile was strained. “Joss has been sharing her…wonderful ideas.”
Smiling inwardly, Joss cast a small sidelong glance in Hugh’s direction. Do you fear me now? Good.
After the food arrived, all talk of anything requiring power cords and drill bits was put on hold, and Vivian genteelly monopolized conversation with real estate anecdotes. But when the check came, she reverted immediately to their earlier topic. “You should take Joss’s card with you.”
Joss almost flinched. As much as she wanted to succeed, especially if she beat Hugh in the process, there was something a little embarrassing about being twenty-eight and having your mother try to direct your business endeavors.
But Stanley was nodding. “I had already planned to ask. Young lady, you had some terrific ideas, and I’ll be in touch with you this week.”
Avoiding Hugh’s gaze, she reached for her purse. Despite the few times this morning she’d wanted to cringe over Vivian’s “help,” Joss would be thrilled to have Stanley as a client. After everything that had happened in the past week—being told over a breakfast her agency had paid for that Neely-Richards was going with someone else, dealing with the EWA agent, not winning an ADster—Joss craved that adrenalized buzz of feeling like a winner.
“I’d love to hear from you,” she told Stanley. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”
She’d intended to tackle her kitchen wall today, but now she was torn. It ate at her to be surrounded by unfinished projects, but maybe her time was better spent researching and working up ideas for Patone instead. When Stanley called, she would be ready. What a coup it would be for Visions to sign him out from under Kimmerman!
Although Wyatt had assured her he wasn’t disappointed with the second-place standing Friday night, her boss had been uncharacteristically subdued. Joss loathed the sensation of having let someone down, and this was her chance to make it up to him. She couldn’t wait to get to work Monday morning.
In hindsight, she’d been in a slump lately, but her luck was about to change. She just knew it.
4
“WYATT, I HAVE GOOD NEWS!” Actually, what Joss had was more like a tentative lead, but why split hairs? Besides, she’d embraced the power of positive thinking.
Her boss lowered the coffee he’d been pouring into his Real Ad Men Get the Job Done in Under Thirty Seconds mug and gave her a wan smile. “Actually, I have some news of my own. Maybe I should go first.”
Her breath caught. His mood lately hadn’t been in her imagination. “What is it?”
“Let’s talk in my office.” Did he suggest that because they’d be more comfortable there, because no one arriving at work would walk in on the conversation, or because he was stalling?
She followed him past deserted cubicles. Joss was always among the first to arrive, but today, mocked at home by windows that needed new treatments and a kitchen decorated in Early Whorehouse, she’d left her place even earlier than usual. By the time she and Wyatt entered the glass-fronted presidential suite, she felt almost queasy with nerves.
“I was planning to tell the entire staff today, but maybe telling you first would be good practice,” he said ominously, making her wonder if he suffered some ailment she didn’t know about.
“There’s something wrong?”
“Not technically. In fact, it’s even good news.” Yeah, he looked like a man bursting at the seams with joy, what with the way he sighed heavily and fiddled with the container of pens on his desk instead of meeting her gaze. She lowered herself to the buttery-soft leather chair across from him and experienced a moment of déjà-dread. The knots in her stomach were tied in the same formations she’d felt when she watched a newscaster tell the city about Mitman’s fraud.
Oh, God, surely she wasn’t about to lose another job?
“I’m proud of Visions,” he told her. “Proud of each of my employees, especially you. But I don’t have your youth and energy, and I’ve been receiving buyout offers that are becoming more and more difficult to turn down. So Penelope and I decided to take one of them…. I’m retiring. I’ve worked hard over the last thirty years, and I’ve put in hours my wife was a saint to tolerate. But now we’re going to spend time together before we get too old to make the most of it.”
The words sank in slowly, in the same manner that water drained drop by excruciating drop in her clawfoot tub. “You sold Visions?”
