The Perfect Day

5:17 a.m.- Buddy awakened.

Wiping the comatose from his eyes, he scanned the darkened room. An angry wind knocked on a block of ice that was once the window, violently demanding that he rise from his warm bed. Buddy searched for the true master of his life. The alarm clock glowed with the numbers 5:18 a.m. "I still have another hour," he moaned to no one.

Suddenly, his restless memory spit out a bolt of joy that started in his head and tore through his limber body. "Sure, it might be another dreadful Monday morning for the rest of the sorry world," he thought, "but not for me. No sir. Mr. Buddy Evans, CEO of Silver Lining Aeronautics, has just embarked on his first official day of vacation!" Pulling the overstuffed comforter under his chin, Buddy grinned himself all the way back into the arms of his latest dream lover. Some days, a man couldn't ask for any more.

7:20 a.m. - Buddy opened his eyes again.

It was amazing what an extra hour of rest could do for a man's perspective on life. For a few minutes, Buddy lay beneath a mountain of warm cotton, while his memory returned in fuzzy bits and pieces. Yesterday, as he recalled, he was suffering terribly from a relentless toothache. Buddy ran his tongue over a row of straight teeth. Not a throbbing molar to be found! That's odd, he thought, but quickly switched his thoughts to the day ahead of him. Though he had no need to go near the office, it was still going to be a hectic one. There was some last minute Christmas shopping to be done. He also remembered he had not yet finished packing for his trip. Both thoughts brought a smile. Buddy jammed his tongue into the rear of his mouth one last time, all the while wishing that life could always be so busy.

Stretching out his sinewy muscles, the middle-aged bachelor eventually swung his feet into a pair of leather slippers and grabbed for his robe at the foot of the massive bed. He stepped into the bathroom and ran the water until it reached a comfortable temperature for shaving. As he lathered up his chiseled face, Buddy looked into the mirror, the way he did every morning, only this time something was different. Placing his razor on the corner of the pedestal sink, he stopped long enough to search the face of the familiar man before him. It wasn't the salt and pepper hair, the sharp blue eyes or the fit physique that he prided himself in maintaining. No - it was something more. The truth instantly hit him. He actually liked what he saw. He'd never given it much thought, but it was true - Buddy Evans really liked the man he had become. At 52, there was no better discovery.

7:45 a.m. - Buddy dried off from a leisurely shower and chose the day's outfit.

After having to wear those stiff suits, day in and day out, casual seemed the only option. Buddy avoided the wing tips and power ties, and located a pair of pleated khakis and a fleece button-down in the vast walk-in closet. Both fit the bill quite nicely. For whatever reason, he decided to continue with his change in appearance. Rather than slick his hair straight back, as he did every morning, he passed on the usual glob of purple gel and opted to comb his thick mop to the side. It was different. He liked it. Two slaps of aftershave later, the room smelled a mixture of melon and musk. He filled his pockets with keys and a bulging billfold, and started for the kitchen. The smells of Ellie's country cooking were quickly making their way up the winding staircase and were already competing with the expensive cologne. She was the finest live-in housekeeper he'd had in years.

Rich Columbian coffee grabbed whatever senses were still dull and shook them to sobriety. Buddy cradled the hot mug Ellie poured him and sauntered over toward the terrace. One look out the French doors was all it took to stop the wealthy man from opening them. "Blustery," the weatherman testified over the kitchen radio. Buddy chuckled. "Deadly's more like it," he commented and turned to his elderly maid. "Seeing as it's almost Christmas, Ellie, once you finish packing my luggage, why don't you take the day off and finish your own shopping?"

The woman shook her head. "I couldn't, Mr. Evans. I have too much to do around here and…"

"I insist," whispered Buddy. The spirit of the holidays was upon him stronger than he could ever remember. He needed to share his good cheer.

"You are too kind to me, Sir." The Englishwoman was nearly blushing. Then, with both dignity and elegance, she served her boss a breakfast fit for a king. "Do you wish to review the paper today, Mr. Evans - seeing as you are on holiday and…"

"Thank you, Ellie." Some habits were not as easy to break as others. With a wink, he dismissed the maternal woman to complete her duties upstairs.

8:35 a.m. - Buddy finished the last drop of fresh squeezed orange juice and did a double take at the lengthy NASDAQ report.

Almost overnight, his Telecomm Italia stock rose twenty points. It was unheard of - especially since, against his better judgment, he had accepted his broker's advice to buy. "I swear that Bill Howell is a diamond in the rough," he muttered, while jotting down a note to send the young genius a case of Scotch for his keen insight. Just beneath the note, Buddy did a quick calculation. Broker fees aside, the one deal reaped close to four hundred thousand dollars. Buddy returned to the note above. He added, Good Scotch!

Grabbing the phone, Buddy punched in a three-digit code. The raspy Irish voice of a man answered. "Please bring the car around, Seamus," Buddy requested, "I think I'd like to get an early jump on the other shoppers."

"Straight away," said the faceless gentleman.

Buddy smiled contentedly. He was so fortunate to have such wonderful people at his service.

9:45 a.m. - A black stretch limousine waited patiently in front of the house.

Buddy donned his jacket and hat, and darted for the open door. Once inside the car, a wave of heat hit his face, removing all of winter's discomforts. Buddy was too preoccupied most other days to take notice, but he took the time to admire the interior of the posh car. Though he had owned it for better than five years and contemplated getting a new one on more than one whimsical occasion, he could finally understand why he never did. It was in impeccable shape. Seamus actually took care of it as if it were his own. For all intents and purposes, it was. Buddy began running his hands across the polished rich wood grain and soft buffed leather when Seamus put the divider down. "Where to?" the kind man asked.

"How about FAO Schwartz, for starters? I think I'm in the mood to buy some toys."

"But you don't have any wee ones…" Seamus blurted, his face immediately burning red at the embarrassment of his foolish outburst.

Buddy never took offense. He merely took the time to ponder the very fact. Lord knew - though he never settled down - as friends called it - he spent a fair share of his adult existence committed to one failing relationship after the other. At times, friends - as they called themselves - even questioned whether Buddy was too tight to share his fortune. It was absurd! The problem was that he got bored too quickly. No one ever seemed to capture the core of his heart. As Buddy Evans never settled for anything, he wasn't about to start with the most important element of life. As far as children went, he supposed one could never miss what one never had. Of course, he sometimes wondered what it would be like to hear a child's laughter spill through the vast halls of his home, but the thought always ended up exactly where it probably belonged - as only a thought. "You are absolutely correct," Buddy countered, emerging from his fog, "but other people do. And I wish to spoil as many of them as I can!"

"As you wish," Seamus finished, as if giving his blessing and they were off.

10:21 a.m. - Seamus Muldoon parked the car at the base of a giant teddy bear and exited. Buddy Evans spent the time admiring the even burn on one of the Cuban cigars a colleague had given him. It was as smooth as tobacco ever got.

"We're not open until eleven," the store's self-appointed lawman bellowed, "and I don't care which rich cat is sitting behind that tinted glass." Buddy lowered the fogged window and smiled at the angry little man. Evidently, the man expected a different reaction and was taken aback at the sincere gesture. Seamus threw up his hands. Buddy stepped out of the car. "Would it be a problem if I spoke to your manager, Sir?" Buddy was killing him with Christmas kindness.

Another seemingly angry soul quickly approached. "I'm the manager. What's the problem here?" His voice was colder than the December wind.

"There is no problem," Buddy claimed and glanced down at his Rolex, "I know that we've arrived a bit early and that you're not open for another 40 minutes, but I was hoping that you could help me?"

"And how might I do that?" The manager's teeth chattered in the cold air. Buddy was obviously not the first man to ask him a favor.

Buddy popped open his cell phone, punched in several numbers and lifted his index finger for the irritated man to hold on. There was a brief pause. Buddy grinned kindly at the man, then began speaking to the person he telephoned. He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "Jesse, it's Buddy. I need you to get in touch with The Salvation Army and the Marine Corps. Recruiting station. Have each of them bring the biggest truck they own and report to the front of F.A.O. Schwartz within the hour. Also, I want Channel 12 and someone from the Times to cover the story. Have them here 20 minutes after the trucks arrive." There was another pause. Buddy's grin widened. "Yes Jesse, the manager has been kind enough to open early. He wants to insure that every orphaned child in this cold city believes wholeheartedly in Santa Claus this year!" After one last pause, Buddy concluded, "That's correct. I don't want my name mentioned. Mr…." Buddy placed his hand over the phone and asked the store manager, "I'm sorry. What did you say your name was?"

"Tibbs," the shivering man replied, "Bradford Tibbs." His eyes were as big as flying saucers. His mouth was half-hung in shock.

"Mr. Bradford Tibbs is the kind soul who deserves all the recognition!" Buddy folded the phone back up and smiled.

"I suppose we could make an exception this one time," Brad Tibbs squeaked.

To be continued...