It had been over a year since his wife had passed. It was sudden, a familiar story of the drunken driver walking away, uninjured, while leaving the loved one of someone else dead in the car he'd just destroyed. Their marriage had been good by anyone's standard and his loss had affected him profoundly. He doubted that he would ever get over her death...you don't ever get over the death of someone you loved, do you? The house seemed so empty.
He often walked through the big house they had shared, shaking his head disgustedly at the mess he'd allowed their beautiful home to become. He kept the house just like he'd kept himself, the outside was immaculate...the inside was a shambles. Putting on a great front for his friends and family had become the way to handle the pain he was suffering inside. He didn't know what stage of grief he was in, but inside, both the house and he got worse every day. His children noticed the house first, not really understanding that it was just a reflection of what he was going through. At first, they pitched in and periodically helped him clean up their old homestead. But they quickly discovered that it took too much time from their own lives. Soon the weekly visits became monthly pilgrimages and eventually semi-regular phone calls. Besides, it wasn't like he couldn't afford a maid.
A dear friend, from the club, quickly connected the dots and suggested he hire some one to take care of the place...a live-in perhaps. In fact he knew of a young girl that would be perfect. Of course. She and her family were having major problems. Eugene wasn't aware of all of the circumstances, but she had been kicked out of her parents house and had no place to live. In fact, his daughter had invited her to stay with them until she found a more stable situation. "You'd be doing me a big favor, Lucas. My house is filled to the brim with estrogen and I need it to get back to normal.
"So let me get this straight, Gene. You want me to take your problem off your hands. Is that right?" Eugene laughed and nodded his head yes. "Well at least you didn't bull shit me. She's not some kind of psycho is she?"
"Noooooooooooooooo, and I haven't a clue as to why she was kicked out. The wife tried to pry it out of her, but she avoided giving us any real answer. That kind of stuff happens. I remember when you had that little brew ha ha with your own daughter. Look, she comes from a pretty nice family. She has her diploma and she........" Lucas held up his hand.
"Enough already. Tell her to come by." That was three months ago.
**************
Beth was a pretty girl, with long dark hair and a cute face. She wasn't a beauty queen, by any stretch of the imagination, but pleasant to look at. She was heavy set, not terribly fat, more like the models Ruben seemed to thrive on...a chubby cherub with a saintly face, pouty red lips and all. She wasn't exactly the hard bodied athlete his wife had been.
It had taken her nearly a month to get the place organized and clean. That alone had a profound effect on his disposition. Lucas was very impressed with her work ethic and they got along nicely. His children were amazed at the transformation, not only was the house back to its pristine state, but their father even began to look healthier. It's amazing what eating properly will do for you. "It's too bad that one day some dude will come around and see if her foot fits the slipper," teased his eldest son Luke. "You sure her name isn't really Cinderella?"
When Beth wasn't cleaning, or preparing their meals, she kept to herself. She apparently didn't have much of a social life and spent much of her time alone in her room. She was a bit too quiet and reserved for a young woman, and not at all embarrassed about being someone's servant. Everything he requested was done without question. And there wasn't much she couldn't tackle. There were times he even felt sorry for her, coaxing her to go out and take a day or two off...at least get some fresh air. For the life of him, he couldn't understand what could have possibly caused her parents to force her out of their home and abandon their daughter.
He did wish she wasn't so damn formal. He'd finally got her to stop calling him Mr. Wiley. He eventually concluded that there was no way he could get her to call him Lucas. The word seemed to hang uncomfortably on her tongue. They finally agreed on Sir.
Although Lucas was only 52, he no longer needed to work. His companies were headed by very loyal and competent men and woman whom he had groomed over the years. None of his children were ready for the vast responsibilities required to manage his holdings. But of course, the ones who wanted to give it a try, were currently working their way up the ladder. He'd made it perfectly clear that they weren't going to push anyone out of the way by virtue of their last name. All three of them owned a little stock, but as he explained, there was a big difference between owning something and running it.
Lucas worked from his home, but he made a point of keeping involved, being there for all the major decisions...more often as an adviser than the big boss. His people counted on him rather than resent his involvement. Hell, they welcomed his advice. Why wouldn't they, this low key, home grown man, rumored to have come from a background less than modest, had acquired a personal fortune in excess of nine figures. And he was generous with those who were loyal, trustworthy and hard working. He was the rain maker that never failed to make rain. And on top of everything else, he'd been a devoted family man. If he had a fault, it was treating his wife and kids too generously.
