Chương 14: Las Vegas Trip II

The photography session continued for most of the afternoon. Arthur Bennett worked with remarkable patience, refusing to settle for an ordinary picture. Every backpack was repositioned several times. Every jacket was brushed to remove invisible wrinkles. The canvas duffel bags were filled just enough to look practical without appearing overloaded. Even the lighting was adjusted repeatedly until the heavy fabrics displayed their natural texture. James stood quietly beside Enzo, watching the process unfold.

It was fascinating. In his previous life, marketing had evolved into sophisticated digital campaigns capable of reaching millions within seconds. Here, in 1970, everything depended on a handful of carefully composed photographs, newspaper advertisements, radio broadcasts, and the trust retailers placed in a manufacturer's reputation. It was slower. Much slower. But in some ways... It felt more genuine. Arthur eventually called Marcus over.

"Would you mind helping me for a moment?" Marcus looked surprised.

"Me?" Arthur nodded.

"I'd like a few photographs with someone actually wearing the work jacket." Marcus laughed.

"I'm no model."

"No," Arthur replied with a grin.

"You're exactly what I'm looking for." Within minutes, Marcus slipped into one of the finished rugged work jackets. Standing nearly six feet tall with broad shoulders and an athletic build earned through years on the factory floor, he looked exactly like the kind of customer Thompson Manufacturing hoped to reach. Arthur adjusted his camera.

"Perfect." He stepped backward.

"Don't smile." Marcus immediately looked confused. Arthur laughed.

"Construction workers don't buy jackets because they're fashionable."

"They buy them because they work." Marcus folded his arms naturally. Arthur clicked the shutter several times.

"There."

"That's the photograph." James smiled to himself.

"Authenticity sells." That was another principle that would remain true decades into the future.

The next photographs focused on the outdoor equipment. Arthur carefully packed one of the hiking backpacks with blankets and several pieces of camping equipment before handing it to another employee. David Walker. The young worker looked almost embarrassed.

"You sure you want me?" Arthur nodded confidently.

"You've got the right age."

"The backpack is supposed to appeal to young adventurers." David adjusted the shoulder straps awkwardly. Arthur guided him toward a painted backdrop depicting pine forests and mountains. The background wasn't real, of course. It had been borrowed from a local photography studio. Still... Combined with careful lighting, it created a convincing illusion. James quietly observed each decision Arthur made. The photographer wasn't merely documenting products. He was selling an idea. Adventure. Reliability. Hard work.

Family. Those emotions sold products far more effectively than technical specifications ever could.

By late afternoon, everyone gathered once more inside Enzo's office. The photographer had packed his equipment, promising to return after developing the negatives. Outside the large office windows, daylight had already begun fading behind Brooklyn's industrial skyline. Leslie entered carrying fresh coffee for everyone. Anthony accepted his cup with a grateful smile.

"I don't think I've sat down all day." Marcus laughed.

"Neither have I." Enzo stirred his espresso before looking around the room.

"I think we've earned a quiet moment." For several minutes, no one spoke about contracts, production targets, or advertising budgets. Instead, the conversation drifted naturally toward Christmas. Marcus mentioned that Cristina and Lucy had spent the previous evening arguing over which ornaments belonged on which branches of their Christmas tree.

"They finally solved the problem," he said with an amused shake of his head. Anthony chuckled.

"How?"

"They decorated separate sides of the tree." The room erupted in laughter. Leslie rolled her eyes dramatically.

"They're only five, and they already negotiate better than some businessmen." Even Enzo laughed heartily. Anthony then admitted that seventeen-year-old Jake Russo had become almost impossible to shop for.

"He keeps telling Tina and me not to buy him anything expensive." Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"That's unusual." Anthony smiled proudly.

"He says he'd rather save the money for college." Enzo nodded approvingly.

"Good boy."

"Very sensible." James listened quietly. These conversations had never happened in his previous life. Back then... There had been no relaxed gatherings in the chairman's office. No laughter. No optimism. Only mounting pressure as military contracts tightened around the company year after year. Now the atmosphere was completely different. People weren't merely working together. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. They were becoming a team.

It struck James that Thompson Manufacturing was slowly becoming more than a business. It was becoming a community again. Enzo eventually placed his coffee cup back onto the saucer and looked around the room with a contented expression.

"I want every one of you to enjoy the holidays." His tone became warm but firm.

"The factory will continue operating with reduced shifts over Christmas, but nobody should forget why we work so hard." He paused briefly.

"We work to provide for our families."

"We work to build something we're proud of."

"And we work so that, when Christmas comes, we can sit around a table with the people we love." The room fell silent. No one interrupted him. Enzo smiled gently.

"So go home on time."

"Spend these days with your families."

"The factory will still be here when you come back." Marcus was the first to nod.

"It will, Chairman." Anthony closed his notebook.

"And I think it'll be stronger than ever." Enzo looked around the room one final time before smiling.

"I believe so too." For James, those simple words carried far more weight than anyone else in the room could have imagined. Three months earlier, in his previous life, Thompson Manufacturing had unknowingly been walking toward ruin. Today... Its future looked brighter with every passing day. ☆☆☆☆☆☆ December 17, 1970 The following morning began much like the previous ones. A cold breeze swept across Manhattan as Enzo prepared breakfast in the apartment.

The aroma of freshly brewed Italian coffee filled the small kitchen, mixing with the smell of butter sizzling on the stove. James sat at the table reading the latest edition of the New York Herald, occasionally taking small bites of toast while his eyes moved from one headline to another. He had developed a routine over the past two months. Every morning began with the newspaper. Every evening ended with the radio news. Some days nothing happened.

Other days, a single sentence or photograph unlocked memories buried deep within his mind. It was like assembling a massive jigsaw puzzle without knowing how many pieces still remained. Enzo placed another pancake onto James's plate.

"You'll disappear behind that newspaper one of these days." James lowered it slightly and smiled.

"I hope not."

"I'd hate for you to have breakfast alone." Enzo laughed heartily before sitting across from him.

"So..."

"You excited about Las Vegas?" James nodded without hesitation.

"I've never really... appreciated it before." That wasn't entirely a lie. During his first life, Las Vegas had simply been another city he'd visited while traveling across America after his divorce. This time, however, it represented the beginning of something far more important. The beginning of financial independence. Not through inheritance. Not through luck. But through calculated decisions.

Later that morning, the familiar Cavallo V12 rolled into the Thompson Manufacturing parking lot. Snow still rested along the edges of the sidewalks, though the factory itself buzzed with warmth and activity. Inside, the atmosphere was noticeably livelier than it had been just a week earlier. Large wooden crates bearing the Thompson Manufacturing logo were stacked near the loading docks, each one waiting to be shipped to retailers across New York State.

Workers moved efficiently between production lines, while forklifts carried finished goods toward the warehouse with practiced precision. Marcus was already waiting near the entrance to the production floor.

"Morning, Chairman."

"Morning, James." Enzo removed his gloves as they walked.

"How are things today?" Marcus couldn't hide the satisfaction in his voice.

"Busy."

"The good kind of busy." He handed Enzo the latest production report.

"We received confirmation from Hudson Outfitters this morning." Enzo stopped walking.

"What kind of confirmation?"

"They've sold nearly half of their initial backpack shipment." James quietly looked toward Marcus.

"Already?" Marcus nodded.

"The purchasing director said customers have been asking if they'll receive another shipment before January." Enzo looked down at the report once more before folding it neatly.

"That's encouraging."

"It is," Marcus agreed, "but I remembered what you said yesterday." Enzo smiled knowingly.

"No expanding production just because demand looks promising." Marcus nodded.

"We'll wait for consistent numbers." James couldn't help but admire his grandfather's discipline. Many business owners would have rushed to double production after hearing such news. Enzo wasn't one of them. He preferred evidence over excitement. It was one of the qualities that had allowed Thompson Manufacturing to survive for decades.

As they continued through the factory, several employees gathered around a newly assembled display stand near the warehouse entrance. It had been built entirely from stained oak, with sturdy shelves showcasing the company's civilian product line. A hiking backpack occupied the top shelf. Below it rested the rugged work jacket and matching trousers. The canvas duffel bag hung neatly from one side. At the very top stood a polished wooden sign bearing the familiar mountain silhouette.

THOMPSON MANUFACTURING BUILT TO WORK. BUILT TO LAST. Enzo stopped in front of it. He studied the display for several moments before speaking.

"This is exactly what I imagined." Leslie smiled proudly.

"The carpenter finished it yesterday afternoon." Anthony adjusted his glasses as he examined the craftsmanship.

"It looks more like furniture than a display stand."

"That's intentional," James said. Everyone looked toward him. He continued calmly.

"If the display itself looks cheap..."

"Customers unconsciously assume the products are cheap too." He gently rested a hand on the polished oak.

"But if the stand looks solid..."

"They expect the products to be solid." Anthony nodded thoughtfully.

"First impressions."

"Exactly." Enzo smiled.

"I'll remember that."

Before lunch, another visitor arrived at Thompson Manufacturing. This time, it wasn't a retailer. It was a representative from one of New York's regional advertising agencies. Arthur Bennett's photographs had already been developed, and the agency wanted final approval before printing thousands of promotional brochures for retailers throughout the Northeast. Inside the conference room, several large proof sheets were carefully laid across the polished wooden table. Everyone gathered around.

James immediately recognized the first photograph. Marcus stood confidently wearing the rugged work jacket, his expression serious, his hands resting naturally at his sides. The lighting emphasized the texture of the heavy canvas fabric. It looked professional. More importantly... It looked believable. The second photograph showed David Walker carrying the hiking backpack across the staged mountain backdrop. Despite being photographed indoors, the image conveyed exactly what James had hoped. Adventure. Reliability.

Freedom. The representative looked toward Enzo.

"Chairman Lombardi, if you're satisfied, we'll begin printing immediately." Enzo remained silent for a few moments as he carefully examined every page. Finally, he looked around the room.

"What do all of you think?" Marcus smiled first.

"I'd buy the jacket." That drew a few laughs. Anthony nodded.

"The catalog looks professional." Leslie added, "Retailers will be proud to leave these on their counters." Enzo finally turned toward James. James looked through the pages one last time before speaking.

"I think..." He paused briefly.

"... our products finally look like they belong beside the biggest brands in the country." A broad smile slowly spread across Enzo's face.

"So do I." He extended his hand toward the agency representative.

"You have my approval." The man smiled as they shook hands.

"You won't regret it, Mr. Lombardi." As the representative carefully packed the proof sheets back into his leather portfolio, James looked once more at the photographs lying on the table. Months ago... They had been nothing more than ideas shared during a dinner conversation. Now... They were becoming the public face of Thompson Manufacturing's future. ☆☆☆☆☆☆ The remainder of the week settled into a comfortable rhythm. Each morning, James accompanied Enzo to Brooklyn after breakfast.

On the drive, Enzo usually had the radio tuned to the morning news while James quietly read the New York Herald. Occasionally, one of them would comment on a headline, but more often than not they simply enjoyed the comfortable silence that only family could share. By now, James had begun carrying a small notebook wherever he went. Whenever a memory from his previous life surfaced, he immediately wrote it down before it had the chance to fade again. Some entries were no more than a few words.

"Oil prices... early '70s..."

"Consumer camping market expands."

"Outdoor recreation becoming more popular."

"Don't forget..." He would stop there. Some memories remained frustratingly incomplete. It irritated him.

"I remember the outcome..." he thought.

"But sometimes I can't remember the road that led there." That realization made him even more determined to continue reading newspapers and listening to current events. Future knowledge was a tremendous advantage. But memory alone wasn't enough. He still had to think. He still had to learn. He still had to adapt.

At Thompson Manufacturing, business continued to exceed expectations. Every morning Leslie entered Enzo's office carrying another stack of correspondence from retailers across New York. Some requested additional product catalogs. Others asked for wholesale price lists. Several inquired whether Thompson planned to expand into neighboring states during 1971. One afternoon, Leslie knocked softly before entering.

"Chairman?" Enzo looked up from his paperwork.

"Come in." She smiled as she placed several envelopes on his desk.

"I think you'll like today's mail." Enzo raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?" Anthony happened to be in the office reviewing contract documents, while Marcus had stopped by to discuss production schedules. James sat quietly in one of the armchairs, reading another business book he had borrowed from the public library. Enzo opened the first letter. A sporting goods retailer from Rochester wanted to reserve additional backpacks for February. The second came from a construction supply distributor near Albany requesting another shipment of work jackets and trousers.

The third was particularly interesting. It came from a retailer in northern Pennsylvania. Anthony adjusted his glasses.

"They're outside New York."

"They are," Enzo replied. The room grew thoughtful. For several seconds, nobody spoke. Finally, Marcus broke the silence.

"Do we even have the capacity?" Enzo didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned toward James.

"What do you think?" James closed his book before answering.

"I think..." He chose his words carefully.

"... it's a good sign." Marcus nodded.

"It means people outside New York are noticing us."

"Exactly." James continued, "But I wouldn't accept the order just yet." Anthony looked curious.

"Why not?"

"Because we made a promise to ourselves." Everyone looked at him.

"We would grow only after proving we could consistently satisfy our existing customers." He glanced toward Enzo.

"If we begin expanding too early..."

"... we risk disappointing everyone." A quiet smile appeared on Enzo's face. He looked toward Anthony and Marcus.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." Anthony leaned back in his chair.

"I have to admit..."

"I was hoping we'd jump on the opportunity."

"So was I," Marcus confessed. Enzo folded the letter neatly before placing it back inside its envelope.

"Tell them we're honored by their interest." He looked toward Leslie.

"Explain that our current production for the coming weeks has already been allocated." Leslie made a note.

"And add this." Enzo smiled.

"Tell them we'll gladly revisit the conversation after the New Year."

"I'll draft the letter this afternoon."

Before leaving the office, Marcus stopped beside one of the large production boards mounted on the wall. Colored markers indicated each product line's weekly progress. Most of the numbers had already been circled in green. He smiled quietly.

"It's strange." Anthony looked over.

"What is?" Marcus rested his hands on his hips.

"Three months ago, every meeting we had was about military deadlines."

"Late shipments."

"Contract renewals."

"Government inspections." He looked toward the factory floor through the office window.

"Now..."

"We're talking about customers."

"Advertising."

"Retailers."

"What people actually want to buy." Anthony smiled.

"I'd say that's a healthier conversation." Marcus nodded slowly.

"It certainly feels that way." James looked out toward the production floor as well. Workers moved confidently between stations. Finished products left the factory almost every day. Telephones rang with new inquiries. The atmosphere no longer felt burdened by uncertainty. There was energy. Purpose. Confidence. Not arrogance. Confidence. James knew the road ahead would not always be smooth. Competition would increase. Economic challenges would come. Unexpected crises would appear.

But watching the factory operate that afternoon, he allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. For the first time since waking up on October 10... He truly believed Thompson Manufacturing had escaped the path that had once led to bankruptcy. Not because the danger was gone. But because they had finally begun walking in a different direction. ☆☆☆☆☆☆ December 20, 1970 Saturday morning arrived wrapped in a thin layer of snow that had fallen overnight. Unlike the busy weekdays, Manhattan felt noticeably calmer.

Many businesses had shortened their hours for the Christmas season, and families filled the sidewalks carrying shopping bags, wrapped gifts, and evergreen wreaths. Apartment 4B was no different. The smell of tomato sauce slowly simmering on the stove drifted through the apartment while soft Christmas music played from the living room television. Enzo had declared Saturdays to be "factory-free" unless an emergency arose, a habit he had maintained for years.

James sat comfortably on the sofa with an open copy of Competitive Strategy resting on his lap. Although much of the material was advanced for a ten-year-old, he had already studied similar concepts during his previous life as a university professor. Reading them again felt less like learning and more like revisiting an old friend. Occasionally, he underlined a sentence with a pencil before writing a short note in the margin. Enzo emerged from the kitchen wearing his apron, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

"You've been reading that book all morning." James looked up with a smile.

"I lost track of time."

"I noticed." Enzo laughed before sitting down in his favorite armchair.

"I don't think I ever read that much when I was your age." James closed the book.

"You probably didn't have much time." Enzo nodded thoughtfully.

"When I was ten..." His expression softened.

"I was helping my father in Italy."

"There wasn't much time left for books." For a few moments, neither spoke. The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It rarely was between them. Finally, Enzo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"So..." James already knew that tone. His grandfather had something on his mind.

"So?" James replied with an amused smile. Enzo chuckled.

"We're leaving in two days."

"That's right."

"You've been unusually excited about this vacation." James shrugged innocently.

"I have?"

"You have." Enzo folded his arms.

"Usually you're the one asking whether we're going to Florida or California." James nodded.

"I remember."

"This year..." Enzo tilted his head slightly.

"... you insisted on Las Vegas." James smiled but said nothing. Enzo narrowed his eyes playfully.

"I've known you since the day you were born."

"I know that face."

"What face?"

"The one that tells me you're planning something." James laughed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, yes, you do." Enzo pointed a finger toward him.

"Every time you've made that face..."

"... I've ended up changing the future of Thompson Manufacturing." That made both of them laugh. When the laughter subsided, Enzo's expression became gentler.

"I'm not complaining." He looked directly at James.

"Actually..."

"I'm grateful." James blinked.

"For what?" Enzo leaned back into his chair.

"For reminding an old man that it's never too late to change." Those words lingered in the room. James looked down briefly. In his previous life... His grandfather had never been given that opportunity. By 1970, the future had already begun slipping through his fingers without him realizing it. Now... Everything was different.

After lunch, the telephone rang. Enzo stood and answered it.

"Lombardi residence." A familiar female voice greeted him from the other end.

"Chairman, it's Leslie."

"Hello, Leslie."

"I've finished arranging everything for your trip." Enzo smiled.

"Excellent." James quietly looked up from the dining table. Leslie continued.

"Your flight leaves Tuesday morning, December twenty-second."

"I've also confirmed your reservation at the Silver Star Hotel in Las Vegas."

"Six nights."

"Checking out on December twenty-eighth."

"Wonderful."

"I've placed all the confirmation documents in your office as well."

"Thank you, Leslie."

"Oh..."

"There is one more thing."

"Go ahead."

"The latest retail reports arrived." Enzo glanced toward James before smiling.

"Can it wait until Monday?" A small laugh came through the receiver.

"I thought you'd say that."

"Enjoy your weekend, Chairman."

"You too, Leslie." After hanging up, Enzo turned toward James.

"Everything's ready." James nodded.

"Good." Enzo crossed his arms again.

"I suppose now you'll finally tell me why we're going to Las Vegas." James smiled innocently.

"I already told you."

"I wanted to visit." Enzo stared at him for several seconds before shaking his head with a laugh.

"I don't believe you for one second." James simply laughed along with him. Deep inside... He felt the familiar excitement building. In just three days... Private Capital Plan would officially begin. The first step toward building a fortune independent of Thompson Manufacturing. A fortune that, one day, could protect the company if history ever threatened it again. This wasn't about becoming rich. Not really. It was about creating options. In business, options meant survival.

And James intended to make sure that neither he nor his grandfather would ever again face the helplessness that had defined their first lives.