Chapter 4

Note: A vague but serious accusation has been posted regarding this story. I just want to make it clear that every story I post follows a detailed arc of inter-connected themes and supporting characters conceived over three years ago and are written in the only style I know: my own. If any reader takes exception to the content or style of my writing, I will be more than happy to converse via private message.

I realize calling attention to the review might be construed as legitimizing it somehow, and in no way whatsoever do I intend disrespect for the other author, who is exceptionally talented, but I know what and who my influences are and they shall continue to guide my writing.

~D

Della and Valerie spent nearly three glorious hours in the market, hunting down everything on the list, making substitutions when necessary, and adding 'frivolous' snack items because with so many large men in the house there simply couldn't be enough food. At the liquor store their 'alarming' amount of alcoholic beverages raised the bushy eyebrows of the proprietor and Della had felt it necessary to add bottles to the order one at a time to see exactly how far up his shiny hairless pate those eyebrows would climb. Valerie choked on her laughter the entire time, until she just had to get in on the game and added an expensive liqueur to the collection of bottles on the counter. That sent the man's eyebrows nearly to the crown of his head.

The shopping trip had taken a bit longer than originally planned, due partially to their detour downtown for Della's boots and the revealing conversation on the streets of Ogden, and partially because they were having entirely too much fun together and in nearly every aisle at the market bumped into someone Valerie knew. The Christmas spirit ran high in both women and was contagious to everyone they came in contact with, making conversations bright and cheerful and a bit longer than necessary.

By the time they returned to the Mason home with bags and boxes, it was after five o'clock and every single male in the household met them in the driveway with panic evident on their faces that they would be late for the cocktail hour at the country club dance. Valerie and Della merely laughed gaily and left them to put away all the supplies while they dashed upstairs to 'get gorgeous in record time' as Bart commanded.

Perry knocked on Della's door at six-fifteen, and when she opened the door, he stood on the other side, holding a purse corsage consisting of a sprig of holly attached to a tiny silver-tipped pinecone with a green ribbon he bought from neighborhood girls who had peddled them door-to-door that afternoon. He whistled appreciatively, delighted in her choice of dress – the iridescent garnet silk pin-pleated stunner she had worn previously to a Law Review dinner – his very favorite dress she had paraded out this holiday season. Her jewelry was only gold garnet drop earrings and a matching cuff bracelet. The simplicity and perfect synchronicity of her accessories guaranteed you saw the beauty of the woman first, then the grand dress she was wearing, and eventually the added layers of surprising touches like the fact that her black velvet pumps sported shiny garnet-colored heels.

"It's even better the second time around," Perry complimented her as she accepted his hand and twirled slowly for his total appreciation, ultimately winding up in his arms.

"Your new tuxedo shirt is pleated the same as my dress," she pointed out, face raised, eyes sparkly, delectable lips half-parted in a tremulous smile. All throughout her hasty shower and speed of light toilette, Valerie's words returned over and over, making her dizzy. Della knew exactly what it was she liked about Perry, and what drew her to him as she had never been drawn to a man before. What she couldn't quite put her finger on yet was what it was about Bart that had captured the heart of a gentle, insightful woman like Val – aside from those matters of sensation, such as she was experiencing this very moment.

"I doubt that it has the same effect on me as it does on you, Miss Street."

"And what effect would that be, Mr. Mason?"

Perry's lips brushed hers teasingly, then hungrily, his hands roaming over the painstakingly sewn pleats on the bodice of her dress, all the while wondering how she could possibly breathe it fit so tightly. "That would be the effect," he said with gruff tenderness.

"You'd be surprised," she replied, pulling his head back down to hers and kissing him, open-mouthed, fingering the pleats of his shirt, loving its luxurious texture, but loving the strong contours of his chest beneath the fabric even more.

Perry gasped, grasped her upper arms and set her away from him. "Della," he croaked, afraid his body had given away another effect altogether.

She leaned against him once again. "Yessss?"

"We should leave now before we're just plain late and not merely fashionably late. The temperature dropped and it's snowing again. The roads might be bad."

Della placed her palms flat against his chest and ran them up the pleats to loop them around his neck. "Coward."

"Nothing of the sort. I'm trying to avoid –"

"Perry! Della! Chop chop." Bart's voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs.

"That," Perry finished with a grin. "If we're not down there in two minutes, he'll be in the car honking the horn. Two minutes isn't enough to explore certain effects."

Della handed the little velvet lined bolero jacket that matched her dress to Perry, and he held it out in front of him a bit farther than he might have before their kiss. "Saved by the bellow," Della mumbled, sliding her slim arms into the jacket.

Perry snickered. He liked Della's forwardness, up to a point. They were, after all, staying in a house crowded with people, with very little opportunity to properly explore the mutual effects pleats had on each of them. If not for that fact, the thing they talked about changing might very well have changed already. It would be a good change, the change good. Such a prospect both excited and scared him.

And Perry Mason didn't scare easily.

In the past, before he had any idea a woman as exquisite as Della existed, the women Perry bedded appealed to the baser aspects of his psyche. A few had stuck around long enough for him to form a true affection, and two he had actually loved, but usually the vast emptiness he felt coupling with a woman because she had large breasts or a nice smile or smelled good put him back on the path of looking for a woman who in the light of day was every bit as appealing as she was at closing time.

He thought he'd found that light-of-day woman in Laura Cavanaugh after a crushing experience with the first love in his life. But as the light shone on her more brightly day by day, he discovered she was not a woman who could make him happy, and he was not a man who could make a woman like her happy. It had taken nearly six months and countless incinceratingly brutal sexual encounters to convince both himself and Laura they weren't meant for one another and would be better off living in separate states.

Because one day, a beautiful young woman named Della walked through the door, and he realized that the light he'd been looking for shone from within her. He needed that light to survive, it warmed him, provided sustenance, and kept him alive.

He hadn't meant to fall in love with Della, it had simply happened. Whenever he thought back on it he couldn't pinpoint a specific time, so he settled for 'at first sight', or 'the moment she walked through the door'. He simply had always loved her. Here was a woman who could make him happy, who did make him happy. He wanted to make her happy, to be the man who could make her happy.

That was where he tripped himself up. As his secretary she was invaluable. How to separate her value to him in that regard from how priceless she was to him as a person eluded him. She was proud and independent, young but more poised than most women twice her age, and she thrived in the whirling dervish that was his law practice. She saw things in him only his mother had ever seen in him, and he believed what she said about him because she believed it. To her he was a good man who did good things, and it was important that he didn't disappoint her. Ever.

She had hinted at a destination the previous night, but he knew that making love to her would in no way be a destination – it would only reveal a new path and a new journey, and one he longed to be on some day.

The subject of his thoughts was currently stroking the soft hairs at the back of his neck, which quickly stood at attention. He again set her away from him, chest heaving and forehead sheened with sweat, lest another part of his anatomy stand at attention, which was a smart move as it turned out.

"Hey, Uncle Perry," Brett called from the doorway. "Dad's going to start honking the horn any minute. He says to shake a leg."

Perry grinned at Della and actually shook his leg.

Cocktails and hors d'oeuvres were plentiful and it took very little time for the party to be in full swing in the overly decorated ballroom of the country club.

Perry shouldn't have been surprised by how many people Della already knew by name or how she usually wound up the center of attention at functions like this, but her natural friendliness and sincere interest in people still amazed him. He was content to stand next to her, holding her purse while she hugged people he discovered she had met only hours ago like long-lost family members and letting everyone know with his stance and piercing gaze that the gorgeous woman in the pleated dress was his. In L.A. they agreed to be discreet – almost covert – about the fact they enjoyed each other's company socially as well as being employer and employee, but here in Ogden, at this insular country club, surrounded by his brother's neighbors, he'd be damned if he would be introduced as her boss. Tonight they were Perry and Della, period. Let the assumptions commence.

The boys had secured a large round table near the middle of the ballroom, far enough away from both the food and the dance floor to be able to converse comfortably, but not so far as to impede a steady flow of food and drink. Brett was more than happy to act as 'runner', replenishing plates for several surrounding tables of friends and neighbors whenever bidden. Perry set Della's purse down on the linen tablecloth and touched her shoulder gently as yet another new friend approached her. She gave him a dazzling smile and introduced him to the parents of Valerie's star piano pupil, flawlessly pronouncing their difficult last name and looking around for their children, whose names she also knew. As more and more people appeared to be introduced and Brett's runs to the hors d'oeuvre table became more frequent and frantic, Perry wondered if they would ever be able to get a cocktail and sit down so he could rest his arm along the back of her chair, letting fingers lightly brush against bare skin, or hold her hand beneath the tablecloth.

It was Della who finally spurred Perry to excuse himself and head for the bar by clearing her throat several discreet times. He squeezed her shoulder and she flashed him that smile, the one that could instantly cast a spell over the strongest of men. He knew it well, and had been under its spell for a year-and-a-half.

The bar was crowded, and it took more than ten minutes for Perry to walk away with two glasses of bourbon for himself, and two Scotch-and-waters for Della. By the looks of things, they had some catching up to do to keep pace with everyone else. He weaved and wound his way back toward the table, not paying much attention to his surroundings, his mind on how it wasn't awful being at this party with total strangers because tonight Della was not merely his secretary, and certainly not something as banal as his girlfriend – she was simply his.

As he neared the table he finally took note of the room and was surprised that the crowd gathered around Della had dissipated and she was now seated sedately next to a petite woman with blonde hair piled high, and who looked up at him with blue eyes that leapt directly out of his past.

"Hello Perry," the woman said, standing to her full height of slightly over five feet in heels. "It's good to see you again."

Perry felt his jaw sag, as he shot a look at Bart, who refused to meet his gaze. Seated next to her husband, Valerie seethed silently. He set the drinks down in front of a subdued, curious Della, and took the woman's proffered hand in both of his. "Hello, Ellen."