It never ceased to amaze Della Street how often she and her boss, inimitable defense attorney Perry Mason spotted their courtroom nemesis out and about in the evening hours after the long days in court were over. Marchand's restaurant was a favorite locale for all of them, though only occasionally did they all go out as a group.
Secluded in a corner booth, Della spotted Hamilton Burger about halfway across the room. He was seated at a table for two with the woman he'd been seeing for a few months now. Drinks had been poured and their dirty dinner dishes had just been whisked away by the server. Even from her distant vantage point, Perry Mason's confidential secretary could practically suffocate from the tension surrounding the pair. She could just feel the other shoe about to drop.
A sad sigh escaped Della as she realized that this relationship was going the way of all of Hamilton's relationships; down the drain. And she knew why. And Perry and Paul and Tragg knew why. It was the same reason why they'd all resigned themselves to the possibility of never having families. Well, except for Lieutenant Tragg who had married before taking up his career in law enforcement.
Having caught the sigh, Perry finished giving his order to the server and turned to Della, curiosity and concern written all over his handsome face.
"Della?"
"Look," she gestured with her head in the direction of the District Attorney. Falling silent, the brilliant brunette tried to focus on the clinking of dishes, the delightful aromas of all the delicious food being served, and the hushed and not so hushed chatter of the other patrons, but even that didn't help drown out the empathy she felt for Hamilton who couldn't even seem to win at love when he couldn't win in the courtroom.
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Hamilton Burger stared down dejectedly into his wine glass. He rotated the stem slightly back and forth, swirling the contents. He couldn't meet her eyes. It would hurt too much if he did. He had been looking forward to their evening out all day. For once their plans hadn't been quashed by the demands of his work, but now it appeared to be too little, too late. It was always too little, too late.
Soft hands with perfectly painted red fingernails grasped his in a gentle, caring way. And there was an undercurrent of genuine sorrow and regret in the soft voice that floated across the table to him.
"I'm sorry, Hamilton. I really do care about you, but I can't go on like this. Our plans almost always have to be rescheduled because of your work. I do understand that these cases are important and have to come first, but I just can't see a future with someone who is never home. What if we married and had children? I'd never see you. The children would never see you. I wish I was the one who could accept and work with that, but I'm not and you deserve someone who can. I hope you find her soon. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too," Hamilton murmured softly into his glass, still not looking up. He didn't trust himself to look up. He'd trained himself not to in these moments. It was better for both of them if he just stared into his drink until she left. He could fight the urge to try and talk her into staying that way. He'd tried that before early in his career and had even convinced a few to stick it out with him a little longer, hoping things would change and he'd be able to give them the attention they wanted and deserved. It had been like trying to stick a square peg in a round hole and had soured things to the point that those women wouldn't even remain friends with him when things had finally reached ignition temperature. His career always seemed to get in the way.
She stood up, grabbing her purse and slinging it over her shoulder. "Are you going to be okay?" Concern tinged her voice.
"Yeah, sure," he said, swallowing hard. He took a sip of the wine and then went back to staring into it. It occurred to him that he should probably offer to walk her out to her car, but he still had to pay the bill first and he was ready to be left alone to wallow in his misery. "Take care of yourself, Karen."
"You too, Hamilton. See you around."
Her retreating footsteps signaled the all clear for the hapless prosecutor to push his wine glass back towards the center of the table and rub his eyes tiredly. For a long moment, he wondered all over again why he bothered trying to date and have a relationship with a woman. They all ended the same. His constant canceling and rescheduling because of the demands of his work, flowers sent in apology the first few times, and then after the pattern became apparent a few months later, the woman would inevitably break it off.
Adding to the difficulty was the fact that Hamilton Burger knew he was no catch. He had a successful career, at least when he didn't have to square off against Perry Mason in the courtroom, but he didn't have Paul Drake's good looks and charm to help him win over the ladies. And now he was getting older.
Hope for a family was starting to leave him.
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"He just can't win, can he?" Della said softly. "I feel so sorry for him."
"As do I, Della. But ours is not an easy profession to work a family into," Perry said matter of factly as their dinner arrived. "I suppose that's why I haven't tried very hard."
"I still have to admire his tenacity though. Just like in the courtroom, he never seems to let the losses keep him down for long."
Perry grunted in agreement as he dug into his food hungrily. He noted that Della still seemed preoccupied with the unfortunate event that had just befallen the district attorney, but he didn't pursue it. He was afraid they'd venture off into their own doubts about choosing career over family and Perry couldn't afford those doubts. He knew Della well enough to know that if it was still bothering her in a few days she'd bring it up herself.
Still, it was hard to miss the look in her gorgeous hazel eyes as she watched Hamilton pay the bill and down the rest of his wine before meandering his way to the exit.
