If the Shoe Fits

The sound of Joy's voice over the phone was suddenly muted in Lucien's mind. The light from the car headlights shone, revealing Jean and…a man. She squeezed his hand and smiled brightly as she entered the house.

Lucien's chest constricted. Blood pounded in his ears. He saw the mysterious man drive away, and he dropped his hand from the blinds, turning away. Turning his attention back to Joy. He frowned to himself and continued telling her about the accident at Tyneman's factory and the horrible safety conditions that had caused a man's death.

Once he got off the phone, Lucien knew he needed to figure out what on earth he was going to do. He sat down at his desk with a new bottle of scotch from his bottom drawer. Something told him he'd be getting through quite a bit of this bottle tonight.

He poured the first glass and swallowed it in one go, grimacing at the familiar, comforting burn of the alcohol in his throat. He poured another.

What on earth could have prompted such a reaction? To see Jean, his housekeeper, coming home late in the evening with a man. He couldn't be jealous. He'd have no reason to be jealous. It was ridiculous. Jean was his housekeeper. Perhaps his friend. But certainly nothing more. She was just a hard-working widow working in his father's house. His house. Bright and lovely, but anyone could see that. There was nothing wrong with noticing the talents of a friend. She was his employee, for God's sake!

Lucien drank a third glass. Seeing her smile at that man had been…wrong. No, that wasn't reasonable to think. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Jean spending her time with a man who appreciated her. She was, after all, a very handsome woman. Someone was bound to notice sooner or later. She wasn't chained to the house, after all. She was free to spend her time as she pleased. Lucien had absolutely no claim over her whatsoever. And as her friend, he should be happy for her, if this man treated her well and she wanted to be in his company. Good on her.

Lucien wasn't some envious, coveting brute. Jean owed him absolutely nothing. And it would be wrong if she felt like she did. After all, Lucien had just gotten off the phone with Joy MacDonald. And wasn't she lovely? Smart and accomplished and quite beautiful. He had enjoyed their dinner those weeks before. Such a charming woman. And Lucien flattered himself to think that perhaps she might be interested in more than just dinner with him. He certainly knew his way to a woman's heart and her bed. And he hadn't felt an inclination to use such talents of his in such a long time. There had been women after the war ended, certainly. He still searched for his family, but in the meantime, he was only a man, after all.

He smiled to himself as he sipped his scotch. It was starting to have its desired effect, dulling his ever-whirling mind. Lucien could practically picture Joy's face in his mind. Perfectly curled hair framing her smooth, pale skin. Why yes, perhaps he could seek a bit more there.

If Jean could go out with a man, Lucien could certainly go out with a woman. Yes, that's precisely what he'd do. No more inappropriate jealousy regarding his housekeeper. She was free to do as she pleased. And Lucien would, if nothing else, find a bit of frivolous distraction with Joy.

He finally put the bottle back in his bottom drawer and leaned back in the chair as he finished the final glass of scotch. He smiled, pleased with his decision. But when he closed his eyes to imagine the wonderful delights this decision would bring, the shining gaze he saw in his mind was an entrancing turquoise. Lucien knew that Joy's eyes were a warm brown. His whiskey-weary mind couldn't seem to picture them, though.