So many of you had questions about the McGuires working for Tudge. I address this issue briefly in Chapter 3, but the immediate answer is that though they may not HAVE to work, they CHOOSE to work, to continue to be active, contributing members of society as they approach their retirement years. And with their backgrounds and interests, I feel the scope of their employment fits them well.

Others may differ in their opinions, and in some cases it may be a cultural thing, but I do not see housekeeper or groundskeeper as demeaning work---especially if it is done for a "gazzillionaire" (I love that word!) who also happens to be a nice guy and a fair employer. I can think of a lot worse jobs to be in!

Why aren't they working for Lizzie, the Academy Award Winning Actress, and her movie director husband David Gordon? That might be a little too close for comfort, also a bit awkward. Bad enough to have to live with your in-laws, but when they are your servants, I think that's just asking for trouble. Lizzie and Gordo need their privacy. Tudge needs the emotional support of mom and dad surrogates he can trust.

I am getting way too into this!

By the way, hope you are enjoying the way I am throwing EVERYBODY into the story. That's the silly part. More to come.

-

-

Larry sat in the back seat of his Rolls Royce, reviewing Mrs. McGuire's words from earlier in the morning. There's no reason why a rich man can't be as happy as a poor man. Was that really true? If he was not happy---and on this, his 30th birthday, he felt keenly aware of how unhappy he really was---did he in fact have anybody to blame but himself?

Larry leaned forward, his chin on the front seat. "Hey, Dig," he said to his chauffer. "Are you happy?"

Digby Sellers grinned as he steered the beautiful automobile off the interstate on to a private road that would take his boss to his high rise office complex in the heart of the city.

"Am I happy?" he repeated. "Well, now, that's a big question, isn't it? What is happiness? What are the components which comprise the emotional state of----?"

"It's a yes or no question," Larry said dryly. "Are you happy?"

"At the moment, yes," Dig answered, simply. "I'm driving the finest automobile known to man, listening to the Berlioz Symphonie Fantastique on a state of the art sound system. I've got a job, a lovely wife, and a nice home on your estate. Two little Digs running around in the yard, helping Mr. McGurie with the grounds. He's added a few more gnomes to the rose garden. Are you aware?"

"Gnomes seem to make Sam McGuire happy," Larry observed.

"Gnomes and Mrs. McGuire," Dig added. "And the occasional Cuban cigar. Which also makes me happy, by the way."

"Remind me to bring back another few boxes next time I'm in Miami," Larry said.

"I won't let you forget," Dig promised.

Larry sat back, feeling the melancholy as he looked at the buildings passing by outside his window. "So what's the secret?" he asked at last. "What is the secret to happiness, Dig? Twenty five words or less. Come on, if anyone can do it, I know you can."

"I heard this once," Dig said instantly, then recited: "Happiness is having something to do…someone to love…and something to hope for."

"Oh, man!" Larry exclaimed. "That is so profound. Who said that?"

"I don't know."

"But it's so true! It's so true…and it's so sad."

"So sad?" Dig questioned. "Why?"

"Because of the three, I've only got one. I've got something to do. In fact, I've got too much to do. But no one to love. And nothing to hope for."

For a moment the conversation ceased. They drove in silence, listening to the bold melody and crashing symbols of Fourth Movement. In a few minutes, Dig turned the car into the large circular driveway of the LTE Building. As he stopped before the front doors, Larry suddenly said, "Make sure the Camaro is shined up and ready to go for tonight. I'm stepping out with David and Liz. We might get some pizza, maybe take in a movie."

"You got it, boss," Dig said, turning around to look at Larry. "And by the way, I know it's not my place to tell you how to run your life---"

"No, do it," Larry said desperately. "Tell me how to run my life. I need someone to tell me what to do. I don't seem able to figure it out on my own. What should I do?"

"I think you need to look deep inside yourself. Review the Journey. Where have you come from? How did you get here? What were the stops along the way? When you remember where you've come from, only then you will know where you're going."

Larry pat Dig's shoulder in thanks. "Also profound," he nodded. "By the way, who said that?"

Mr. Dig grinned suddenly. "Me! I just did!" Then he laughed hysterically before getting out to open the car door for his gazillionaire boss.

-

The rest of the day passed in the usual blur for Larry Tudgeman, the celebrated Computer Software King. He took a meeting with the Creative Development Team, then a conference call with the Overseas Distributors, and then another meeting with his corporate lawyers.

At lunch he shmoozed with executives of Milton Bradley, who wanted to adopt his latest software for a rudimentary game, which Larry was currently calling Tomato Drop, into a palm pilot-type device for the pre-school crowd. Larry would only agree if twenty five per cent of the profits were donated to Save the Children. Milton Bradley said fifteen percent, Larry said twenty, and a deal was struck.

It was the first thing he felt good about all day.

After lunch, he went back to the office where his Executive Assistant Parker McKenzie provided him with multiple copies of multiple contracts that needed to be signed in triplicate. As he worked at his desk, she leaned over him, letting him smell her perfume, letting him look down the sharp V neck of her clingy dress, hoping at last to persuade him to abandon himself to her feminine charms.

Frankly, Parker's advances towards him sometimes became quite annoying, and it was only because she was such an excellent Assistant, and because he was not at all sexually attracted to her, that he kept her in his employ. Parker was one of those women he had spoken of earlier to Jo McGuire, the type who was only interested in his money. She was also interested in usurping Kate in the position of new Queen of his computer software empire.

"By the way," Parker cooed, when all the papers had been signed. "A little birdie told me it's your birthday. So Happy Birthday, Larry."

"Thank you, Ms. McKenzie," Larry said. "But, as I've requested before, would you please call me Mr. Tudgeman?"

"Oh, Larry!" Parker flirted. "There's no need to be so formal! We're old friends, aren't we?"

"Sure. But in a business setting such as this---"

"Well, how about we get out of this business setting, for just a little while? I'd love to buy you a drink after work, just to say 'Happy Birthday…Mr. Tudgeman.' What do you say?"

Larry smiled politely and answered, "I'd have to say no. But thank you so much anyway, Ms. McKenzie."

Parker pouted. "Oh, you're no fun."

"No. I guess I'm not," Larry said, and as he listened to his own words, he wondered when was the last time he had had fun, really had fun. His sense of melancholy deepened as he stared out the large glass window behind his desk, looking down on the city below.

"Well, then," Parker was saying behind him, "if you won't come to the party…Larry…perhaps I can bring the party to you…"

Larry spun around in his leather executive chair and was not at all surprised to see Parker dropping her dress. She had done this before. Today the slip she wore was red and lacy. Someday she wasn't going to be wearing a slip.

He really had to fire this girl.

Never missing a beat, Larry pushed a button on his phone intercom and instantly heard, "Yes, Mr. Tudgeman?"

"Audrey, is Dig down there?"

"Yes, he just walked in. Should I send him up?"

"Please do."

Parker stamped her foot. "You always do that!"

"Ms. McKenzie, how many times have I told you? I do not believe in sex without love."

"Well, maybe if you gave it a try…even once…you could come to love me…"

Larry stood up and began to walk towards the door. Parker got in his path. "Larry…Larry…" she pleaded, running her hands all over his blue shirt.

Gently, he pulled her off him. "Ms. McKenzie…please…"

"Well, if you don't love me," Parker demanded, "then who do you love? I know it's not that witch of a wife. She despises you, and you despise her. That's very clear to everyone who knows you. What's not clear is who it is that you do love. Huh, Larry? If not her, if not me, then who?"

"Put your clothes back on," Larry said. "Dig will be here any moment."

"Oh, Dig!" Parker exclaimed, stamping her foot again. "You're always hiding behind Dig! You're always hiding behind your work, behind your video games, behind anything you can find to hide behind! Who is Larry Tudgeman? Where is the real Larry Tudgeman? Do you even know anymore?"

"Good night, Ms. McKenzie!" Larry called as he went through the main doors of his suite, finding Dig in the hallway, walking towards him.

"Parker again?" Dig said, seeing his employer's expression of dismay.

They got on the elevator. "Yeah, Parker again," Larry confirmed. But he did not mention that it was more than Parker that was disturbing him at the moment. Who is Larry Tudgeman? Where is the real Larry Tudgeman? He didn't have a clue.

And as Dig pressed the button to take them from the 36th floor to the first, Larry felt himself spiraling downwards into a pit of absolute confusion and despair. He looked at his shiny reflection on the highly polished metal doors of the elevator.

He looked into his brilliantly blue eyes and thought Happy Birthday, Larry Tudgeman. Who the hell are you, anyway?

-

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AN: Thru the wonders of the internet, I have been able to discover that the wonderful quote Dig recites to Larry about happiness being comprised of having something to do, someone to love and something to live for is attributed to Tom Bodett, author, humorist and radio personality, who is also the "voice" of the Motel 6 commercials. I didn't know this when I started the story, but I know it now, and wanted to rightly give credit where credit is due.