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.
Each one had a trust, providing enough to live on for the rest of their lives...very comfortably. Perhaps his own humble beginnings had something to do with that...he wanted more for his kids. But none was like their dad...no one had increased their fortune by a single penny. The money wasn't the important thing, he just wished they'd do something...anything. He still had hope for his youngest son, Roman. He was somewhere in India, handing out roses. At least he was doing something. Lucas was just a simple man with simple tastes...most of the time. Where his wife had thrived in the world of country clubs and ritzy friends, he was more at home shooting hoops or fishing with his buddies. Even when he played golf, he carried his own clubs, walking besides the caddy the club required. Having another man carry his load made him feel uncomfortable.
In any case, having Beth around made quite a difference. There was someone to talk to, share meals with and occasionally catch a television show together. More importantly, the melancholy was gone.
**************
Time passed more quickly with each day and the Odd Couple had settled in with each other. They had actually gotten closer over the last few months. They often sat together over a bowl of popcorn watching movies in the family room and it wasn't too unusual for them to slip out for a burger and fries. He treated her like one of his own. He still couldn't get her to call him Lucas. Eventually, Sir became his second name, slipping in and out of context on occasion, but he stopped feeling old whenever she used it. He actually teased her into wearing something other than her denims, sweatshirt and her Chuck Taylor's. The transformation was amazing. Stretchy leggings, strappy sandals and a flowing overdress made her look like a totally different person. She actually looked kind of sexy. Having that thought actually scared him a little
Lucas felt his mind seeing things a lot differently when it came to Beth...suddenly chubby became voluptuous and top heavy became well endowed. She was no longer that cute, heavy set little girl...she was a rather sexy, curvacious woman. He began to worry when he realized where his mind was taking him. But when she'd bend over to pick up something or stretched and took that deep breath, his eyes were right there, focused on all the places a man's eyes were expected to go. By now, he was almost positive she never wore panties and her bras were thin, stretchy things with double D cups. Of course he looked. After all, the laundry basket was public property...and he was a guy. The day she wore the tank top without a bra...the day she bent over to pour him a cup of coffee...the day he suddenly remembered a very important call he'd forgotten to make, suddenly bolting from the room, was a wake up call.
He was embarrassed each time the memory came back to haunt him. Good grief. He'd acted the same the first time he got a glimpse of his mother's panties. He must have looked like a total klutz after Beth had bent over and had given him a perfectly unobstructed view of her large breasts. After he flubbed through "You look terrific, Beth," he hurriedly left the room. He suddenly realized that he had better get a grip. Shit, she was younger than his own daughter. He actually took a cold shower. Fortunately, he hadn't seen her soft lips curl upward and form the tiniest of smiles as he disappeared around the corner. He would have been terrified.
Soon, it had been two years ago that his wife had died...to the day. Beth was aware of that fact and tried to distract him and keep his mind from dwelling on that terrible day. But everything she tried was of no use. He even shouted at her for some little thing, though he eventually apologized. It was the worse she'd ever seen him. She sensed it was going to be a long and difficult day, just when things had gotten so much better for him.
