Dior

Jean was in the sunroom, looking after some of her flowers, when Lucien came wandering in. He lingered in the doorway, watching. At first, she tried to ignore him. He'd eventually say something; he usually couldn't help himself.

But Jean had work to do, and she didn't much appreciate her husband looking over her shoulder. "Can I help you with something?" she asked, trying to keep her expression light and not come across churlish.

"Do you know that French designer, Christian Dior?" he asked in return.

That certainly hadn't been what she'd expected him to say. She turned away from her flowers and faced him. "I'm sorry?"

"Yes, he's a designer. All sorts of beautiful Parisian gowns. Have you heard of him?"

Jean frowned. "Yes, I think I've heard the name. I'm not very familiar with French designers, particularly because I've made my own clothes nearly all my life."

Despite her snappish tone, Lucien smiled. "Well, I think you could make anything just as well as the French, if not even lovelier."

She rolled her eyes. He was in a mood. Jean went back to her work. But rather than ignore him, she further indulged his topic of conversation. "Any reason you bring up Dior? Perhaps you'd like a nice gown?"

He laughed heartily, making Jean smile, pleased her teasing had entertained him. "I think you should have a nice gown, if you want one, but no, I was just watching you working with your flowers and Dior popped into my head."

Jean gave him a questioning look as she removed her gardening gloves.

Lucien continued, "Christian Dior once said, 'After women, flowers are the most divine creations.' And looking at you now, I can't help but feel wildly lucky that here in front of me, I have both. And you are wonderfully divine, my darling."

His words made her pause. "I don't quite know what to say to that."

Now, Lucien made his way toward his wife, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You don't need to say anything at all. I just love you very much," he replied.

"Well that's quite convenient."

"Is it?" he chuckled.

"Well yes," she answered, "because I love you very much, and since we're married, that all works out quite neatly."

There was nothing then for Lucien to do but kiss her, long and deep.

The next morning, Lucien went into his study and found a bouquet of lovely flowers sitting on his desk. Beside it was a note written in Jean's hand: A little something divine for you while you work. He couldn't stop smiling all the rest of the day.